USA, Boston, 19.01.1809 – 07.10.1849 Modern mass literature is three-quarters the creation of the American romantic Edgar Poe. He virtually invented the entire set of its core genres. Detective fiction, science fiction, Gothic prose—all these are his inventions. The creator of “The Masque of the Red Death,” the father of detective Dupin, inspired both “high” literature and poetry. The ideas and verses of Edgar Poe nurtured Charles Baudelaire. And the entire French Symbolism. It was Poe who invented and presented to the world pure art and pure poetry. And yet this man was ready to sacrifice everything to “embody at least half of those thoughts and images that fill his imagination.” His entire life was a theater… of horror. His life story is painfully bizarre—as if from a nightmare.
Edgar Poe‘s parents were actors, and in those days, being an actor meant living as a vagrant. They died when their son was just two years old, whether from consumption or from alcoholism. The charming little Edgar was taken in by the family of successful tobacco merchant John Allan, who indulged their adopted son without measure.
Let us examine his horoscope. The first thing that strikes the imagination is the powerful conjunction of the Moon, Venus, Pluto, Jupiter, Ceres, and Juno on the cusp of the 4th and 5th houses—a configuration that can be seen as an indication of an unusual fate, early parental loss, the acquisition of a good family, intense emotionality, a deep, almost hysterical inclination toward art, alcohol, and drugs.
Meanwhile, Mars (the planet of the masculine principle) stands in a weak position in Libra, and moreover in the 12th house, which makes the individual fearful, lonely, and even depressed. Even in childhood, Edgar preferred the company of girls his age, which is why, in the gender-segregated school he attended, he initially felt isolated.
Given everything, Edgar Poe belonged to those people who quickly exhaust the life energy allotted to them. This was certainly facilitated by Saturn in his 1st house. Despite his short stature and delicate build, he always looked older than his peers. Light-hearted, charming, witty, a lover of conversation, the life of any company, he captivated both women and men. He read poetry—his own and others’—with enchanting skill.
The most precise combination of the Sun with Mercury in the 3rd house suggests literary talent, an inclination toward intellectual pursuits, and erudition. And Mercury was the ruler of the 8th house, the house of death. This position indicates that the person would write about death, the occult, and mysticism.
Yet at the University of Virginia, where Poe enrolled at the age of seventeen, his destructive romance with alcohol began—a habit that would end so tragically twenty-three years later. Friendly drinking sessions were common among students, but alcohol had a strange effect on Poe. A few sips were enough to completely transform him. He drank with his head thrown back, emptying the glass in one motion, then slamming it down on the table, after which he would resemble a man possessed—his eyes flashing lightning, his usually pale cheeks burning with fire, and his speech taking on a mesmerizing quality.
In his horoscope, we see a conjunction of Uranus—indicative of an unusual nervous system—with the North Node in Scorpio and in the 1st house. For such people, alcohol is absolutely contraindicated, because even in a sober state their nervous system is overstressed. Under the influence of alcohol, control is lifted, and demons are unleashed. It was clear he was not drinking for pleasure but for effect. There were no outward signs of intoxication; he simply became another person—bitter, irritable, unrestrained.
“His demon awoke, and the aura of madness around him was almost palpable,” wrote a colleague from the editorial office in his obituary.
His entire life was plagued by anxiety and unease. He was prone to persecution mania, claustrophobia, depression, and neuroses. These obsessions and phobias were exacerbated by drinking. And toward the end of his life, according to some accounts, Poe also became a morphine addict.
What drove him to madness? Upon closer inspection, we see a conjunction of Lilith (Black Moon), symbolizing depraved habits, with the demonic fixed star Algol. The Black Moon generates astral vortices that provoke intense emotions and desires that hinder conscious control over its influence.
In the 7th house, the Black Moon obstructs harmonious interaction with others and the establishment of stable, lasting relationships, including marriage. It distorts a person’s objective assessment of their partners and their own qualities. The active pole of Taurus manifesting through the Black Moon leads to irrational, boundless expenditure of energy—physical and mental strength wasted pointlessly or inappropriately. Algol distorts the path of truth. Everything on a person’s path becomes ominous. It often gives rise to various forms of madness, including paranoia, obsessions, and temptations.
There was another weakness noted by researchers—an addiction to drugs. It is believed that Edgar Poe began taking opium more or less regularly in 1832, though there is evidence he tried it as early as his university years. Opium allegedly became such a familiar companion to the poet that he took it daily after breakfast.
Yet neither alcohol nor drugs could awaken in a person such boundless imagination and such a gift for storytelling and poetry as Poe possessed. These substances could only stimulate the imagination.
To the fullest extent, Edgar Poe was also prone to psychosexual disorders. All his romances were attempts to approach “normalcy” or at least create the illusion of it. Even his marriage can hardly be called “normal”: he wed his thirteen-year-old cousin Virginia, who was intellectually delayed and retained childish habits until her death.
Men acquainted with Poe’s female friends had no reason to fear this strange man with burning eyes dressed in black—a frequent visitor to their wives’ drawing rooms who sought souls, not bodies.
And yet in his youth, Edgar Poe was an athlete, served in the army, and proved himself an excellent soldier. He enlisted in the army out of poverty (Neptune and the Lot of Misfortune in the 2nd house). His guardian refused to fund his literary pursuits and demanded he “choose a more dignified and profitable occupation.” Following these instructions, Edgar even attempted to enter the prestigious West Point military academy. But then his stepfather remarried and had a son, so Poe could no longer lay claim to the inheritance—and thus had no reason to strive for a general’s rank. It was then that he began to earn his living by the pen. “MS. Found in a Bottle” was Poe’s first story (before that, he had only written poetry), written for money.
…From a certain point of view, this man was a complete madman—or, more accurately, mentally ill, due to the extraordinary lunar stellium in Pisces. And at the same time—he was a genius of calculation, a mathematician, logician, and thinker, a cryptographer and great detective, thanks to Uranus in the 1st house and the conjunction of the Sun, Mercury, and benefic stars. Altair (or the Eagle’s Heart) grants lofty flights of thought, boldness, a career, and turns a person into a fearless warrior; it is also associated with prophecy, outpacing the era, occultism, and magic, often manifesting in individuals with vast horizons, bringing unexpected and strange events into their lives, as well as travel. This is immense erudition, a taste for knowledge, and diverse involvement in world culture. His texts are saturated with references to the realities of the past and present, yet these realities are most whimsically combined with fantasy or outright “nonsense.” He was a writer of the highest caliber, capable of captivating the broadest reading audience.
His own emotions—however unhealthy and painful—he transformed into a tool of artistic creation. This was made possible by the harmonious trine aspect of Uranus to the Pisces lunar stellium. But due to the conjunction of the lunar stellium with Pluto, misfortune dogged him all his life—from birth.
From his earliest years in primary school, the little orphan Edgar fell in love with the mother of his friend.A kind woman fell in love with a boy—she invited him over, talked with him, and cared for him. But then Helen (that was what the boy called his beloved) fell ill, went mad, and died. The legend says that little Poe walked to her grave many nights—so that the soul of his beloved would not be alone. Pluto (as the symbol of death) in conjunction with the Moon and Venus—women and girls always, one way or another, left him: Helen, his foster mother Frances Allan, who treated him like a son (and he loved her as a mother), and his sickly and delicate wife Virginia, who died. Others simply abandoned him, frightened by his wild temper. Edgar’s first love was the love for an ideal woman (Helen)—without conquest, without pursuit. His wife Virginia was frail and, as biographers write, “could not fully fulfill the marital duty.” In his stories, life always turns into death, but death often turns into life. One of his tales is even titled “The Life in Death,” and in another grotesque story, the hero lives quite well without breathing.
He was a contemporary of Chopin, Lincoln, Tennyson, Darwin, and Nikolai Gogol. In 1809, both mystics and clairvoyants, meticulous naturalists, and strong-willed leaders, politicians, and commanders were born. Who knows—perhaps Edgar Poe could have become President of the United States. He not only had an exceptionally sharp mind but was also extraordinarily hardworking, sociable, and persistent. Once, he almost secured a position in President Tyler’s administration, and another glass of alcohol ruined the deal. On his way to the White House, he drank and decided to appear before John Tyler in a coat turned inside out. Another sad story about the demon of the poet’s life.
But the conscience of this mentally unstable man could have been burdened by even more terrible (real!) crimes. There is a version that Poe killed the girl Mary Rogers, whose disappearance he described in “The Mystery of Marie Rogêt.” The police never solved Rogers’ case. By the way, according to some data, Edgar Poe had organic brain damage that caused behavioral deviations.
The public began talking about Poe after “The Gold-Bug” (1843), and two years later, the immortal “The Raven” made him famous across America and beyond. That year, transiting Jupiter was in aspect to his Sun. His wife Virginia died in 1847—at the age of 25. Only one letter from Poe to his wife has survived. These words are painful to read: “I have long lost all hope, were it not for you, my dear wife… You are now my only and main incentive in the struggle against this unbearable, vain, and cruel life…” And then the incentive was gone.
In the summer of 1849, he found himself in his native Richmond and spent a happy and peaceful summer among loved ones. He even proposed to Elmira Royster Shelton, a widow at the time. Long ago, when they were sixteen, they had been in love, but her father quickly married her off. On September 27, 1849, Poe sailed from Richmond to Baltimore as an engaged and content man. From Baltimore, he was to take a train to Philadelphia, but several hours remained between the ship’s arrival and the train’s departure. Those hours decided the fate of the writer.
At the beginning of October, a Baltimore doctor, slightly acquainted with Poe, was told that a “very poorly dressed” gentleman was asking for his help. Poe was found in a cheap tavern surrounded by the lowest sort of people. He was nearly delirious and rambled incessantly.
One of the strongest fears that haunted Edgar Poe all his life was the fear of premature burial—just like Gogol’s. In reality, he found himself in hell long before death. Five days in the hospital were days of delirium, horrific visions, and hallucinations. He died at three o’clock in the morning on October 7, 1849. Transiting Jupiter and the North Node were in opposition to Pluto, Jupiter, the Moon, and Venus.
Publishers consider reprinting Edgar Poe’s works a bad omen, just as making films based on his stories is. Those who dared have not achieved particularly good results. And to this day, no one has created a cinematic biography of one of America’s greatest poets and writers, whose name today graces literary awards and who died 157 years ago in poverty and solitude.
