breach of decorum on my part to show the modus operandi by which some one of my own works was put together. I select The Raven, as most generally known. It is my design to render it manifest that no one point in its composition is referable either to accident or intuition; that the work proceeded step by step, to its completion, with the precision and rigid consequence of a mathematical problem.

We shall give the several steps of the process by which, as its author assures us, The Raven was turned out.

First, for certain reasons not mentioned, he was particularly anxious to write a poem which should suit at once the popular and the critical taste.

The question then came to be, How long should a poem be, in order to its producing the greatest possible impression? The conclusion was, that it should be so brief as to be easily read at a sitting; more minutely, that it ought to consist of about a hundred lines. Raven actually consists of a hundred and eight.

The

The next question was, What sort of impression was most likely to be most generally and deeply felt? And the conclusion come to was, that for many reasons, stated somewhat prolixly, it must be an impression of sadness; the poem must be of a melancholy

tone.

The poet next considered whether there was any 'artistic piquancy' that might be introduced into the structure of the proposed poem, with the view of intensifying its effect; and, after some reflection, he concluded that there was nothing which was so suitable for this purpose as the employment of the refrain.

For full effect, the refrain must be brief; and that

its application might be varied, while literally it remained unaltered, it was convenient that it should consist of a single word. The use of the refrain implied that the poem should be divided into stanzas.

What was the refrain to be? It must be sonorous and emphatic. Then the long is the most sonorous vowel, in connexion with r as the most producible These considerations immediately sug

consonant.

gested the word Nevermore.

How was Nevermore to be brought in at the close of each stanza? It would be awkward to have a single word monotonously repeated by a reasonable being. The refrain must therefore be uttered by a non-reasoning creature capable of speech. A parrot was thought of first, but a raven appeared more in keeping with the tone of the intended poem.

Now, gathering up his conclusions, Poe tells us he found that he had arrived at the conception of a raven, a bird of ill omen, monotonously repeating the one word Nevermore at the conclusion of each stanza, in a poem of melancholy tone, and in length about one hundred lines.'

Next came the inquiry, What is the saddest of all subjects? The answer was, Death. And when is this melancholy subject most poetical? When most closely allied to Beauty. The subject of the poem must therefore be the death of a beautiful woman. And, as a further step, a bereaved lover is the fittest person to speak on such a subject.

Combine now the ideas of a lover lamenting his mistress, and a raven repeating continuously Never

mire. Let the lover begin by a commonplace query, to which the raven should thus answer: then a query less commonplace: then another query; till at last, half in superstition and half in self-torture, he goes on to put questions whose solution he has passionately at heart, 'receiving a frenzied pleasure in so modelling his questions as to obtain from the expected Nevermore the most delicious because the most intolerable of sorrow.' The last uttered Nevermore must involve the utmost conceivable amount of sorrow and despair. And at this point in the induction, Poe assures us he first put pen to paper,' and wrote the stanza:

́Prophet!' said I, 'thing of evil—prophet still, if bird or devil! By that heaven that bends above us-by that God we both adore

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?'
Quoth the Raven, Nevermore!'

This stanza was to form the climax of the poem ; and no other was permitted to be so vigorous.

at.

Originality in the rhythm and metre was also aimed

And the author flattered himself that nothing even remotely approaching' the stanza of The Raven has ever been attempted.'

Where were the Raven and the lover to meet? Not in the fields, for circumscription of space is absolutely necessary to the effect of insulated incident ;-—it has the force of a frame to a picture.' The meeting must be in the lover's chamber, which must be richly furnished.

The Raven must enter by the window. The night must be stormy. The bird must alight on a bust of Pallas-for contrast of marble and plumage,—because the lover is a scholar,—and because the name Pallas sounds well.

The narrative part of the poem being completed, two concluding stanzas are added, which serve to cast a meaning upon all that has gone before. The Raven becomes emblematical; 'but it is not till the last line of the last stanza that the intention of making him emblematical of mournful and never-ending remembrance is permitted distinctly to be seen :'

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting,
On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the

floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted-never more!

Had Poe been a person so reliable that we could feel assured that such was indeed the genesis of this celebrated poem, there would be much interest in the account of it which he gives us. For although it by no means follows that the process by which the mind of one man of genius matures a fine work, from the dawn of its first crude conception to the hour when it is finally turned out, totus, teres, et rotundus, shall be the same as that by which another man of equal genius should produce a similar piece of work; still it would be curious to know, from the confession of an author as intensely truthful as Dr. Arnold, for instance, how

द

it was that some admirable poem which bears with it all the marks of the true poetic inspiration was conceived, condensed, and elaborated. Unfortunately, in Poe's case we have not the slightest assurance that there is a syllable of truth in the long story he has told us, beyond that which may be afforded by the story's internal evidence of truthfulness. It is quite certain that if he thought it likely to create a sensation' in the public mind, Poe would have related the particulars with equal circumstantiality although they had been entirely false. We must rest, therefore, altogether on the internal evidence which may be afforded by the narrative itself: and it appears to us that the ostentatious parade of reasons,--the affectation of strict logical sequence in all the steps of the process of manufacturing the poem,-are characteristics directly the contrary of those which we might expect in a true narrative, and bear a most suspicious resemblance to those of the highly circumstantial fictitious tales which proceeded from Poe's pen. The story, in short, is psychologically absurd and improbable in itself; and it derives no weight from the author's character, which may countervail its own unlikelihood. We believe that Poe, like all other authors, would have found it extremely hard to lay down the progressive steps by which any of his works was matured.

We believe that nothing can be more anomalous or fortuitous than the manner in which this end is reached in various cases: the conception sometimes breaking sharply and suddenly upon the mental view, and at other times first looming indistinctly as a mountain