See:

[www.eapoe.org]

Start at line,

>The initial consideration was that of extent.

Thanks Hugh for that most educative reference. It seems I was mistaken in thinking that Poe just dashed off 'The Raven' without serious intent. That's if we're to accept his bombastic, rather unlikely account of having composed it 'step by step ... with the precision and rigid consequence of a mathematical problem' without any assistance from 'accident or intuition'. He doesn't say how long he took to write it, however. His essay also doesn't question whether his vaunted calculated aim of expressing supreme beauty intensified by 'the utmost conceivable amount of sorrow and despair' was well served by adopting ballad metre and such a melodramatic rhyme scheme. To fake sincerity, you need to get the body language right! It appears he wasn't the type to acknowledge any artistic failing, if indeed the Victorians regarded melodrama as a failing. A very interesting read.



Post Edited (06-14-04 18:11)

Correct. Hindsight is always 20-20. What I thought particulary interesting, disingenuousness aside, was his target:

Tone - melancholy/sadness
This although Beauty was to be the primary consideration of the poem.
Key-note in construction - the Nevermore refrain (again melancholy mood).

"Regarding, then, Beauty as my province, my next question referred to the tone of its highest manifestation — and all experience has shown that this tone is one of sadness. Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears. Melancholy is thus the most legitimate of all the poetical tones. "


Beauty=Sadness=Melancholy. What a glimpse he offers into his mind! I would think many would equate beauty with anything BUT sadness.

As an aside, it has been claimed EAP stole the Raven idea from Thomas Holly Chivers, who wrote a poem titled "To Allegra Florence in Heaven". Searching the net, I can only find a portion of it, but I did see a note that it included the name Lenore.

The single stanza:


As an egg, when broken, never
Can be mended, but must ever
Be the same crushed egg forever--
So shall this dark heart of mine!
Which, though broken, is still breaking,
And shall never more cease aching
For the sleep which has no waking--
For the sleep which now is thine!



From [www.eapoe.org]

"Chivers made the claim publically in an article on the "Origin of Poe's Raven" in the Waverly Magazine for July 30, 1853, p. 73, cols. 2-3, arguing that Poe plagiarized "The Raven" from Chivers' poem "To Allegra Florence in Heaven." The article is signed by the pseudonym "Fiat Justitia," now known to be Chivers himself (See Damon, Chivers, Friend of Poe, p. 199). "

Hooray, another excuse to post this:

The End of the Raven
by Edgar Allen Poe’s Cat

On a night quite unenchanting,
when the rain was downward slanting,
I awakened to the ranting
of the man I catch mice for.
Tipsy and a bit unshaven,
in a tone I found quite craven,
Poe was talking to a Raven
perched above the chamber door.
“Raven’s very tasty,” thought I, as I tiptoed o’er the floor.
“There is nothing I like more.”

Soft upon the rug I treaded,
calm and careful as I headed
Toward his roost atop that dreaded
bust of Pallas I deplore.
While the bard and birdie chattered,
I made sure that nothing clattered
Creaked, or snapped, or fell, or shattered,
as I crossed the corridor,
For his house is crammed with trinkets, curios and weird decor --
Bric-a-brac and junk galore.

Still the Raven never fluttered,
standing stock-still as he uttered,
In a voice that shrieked and sputtered,
his two cents’ worth -- “Nevermore.”
While this dirge the birdbrain kept up,
oh, so silently I crept up,
Then I crouched and quickly leapt up,
pouncing on the feathered bore.
Soon he was a heap of plumage, and a little blood and gore --
Only this and not much more.

“Oooo!” my pickled poet cried out,
“Pussycat, it’s time I dried out!
Never sat I in my hideout
talking to a bird before;
How I’ve wallowed in self-pity,
while my gallant, valiant kitty
Put an end to that damned ditty” --
then I heard him start to snore.
Back atop the door I clambered, eyed that statue I abhor,
Jumped -- and smashed it on the floor.



Stephen

And for an even stranger version, try this one- [users.aol.com]

pam

Beautiful, Stephen!

Pam A Dams I like !