of the weird and the fantastic. In his intellectual
nature there was a strange conjunction; an imagination
as spiritual as Shelley’s, though, unlike Shelley’s,
haunted perpetually with shapes of fear and the imagery
of ruin; with this, an analytic power, a scientific
exactness, and a mechanical ingenuity more usual in
a chemist or a mathematician than in a poet.
He studied carefully the mechanism of his verse and
experimented endlessly with verbal and musical effects,
such as repetition and monotone and the selection of
words in which the consonants alliterated and the
vowels varied. In his Philosophy of Composition
he described how his best-known poem, the Raven,
was systematically built up on a preconceived plan
in which the number of lines was first determined
and the word “nevermore” selected as a
starting-point. No one who knows the mood in
which poetry is composed will believe that this ingenious
piece of dissection really describes the way in which
the Raven was conceived and written, or that
any such deliberate and self-conscious process could
originate the associations from which a true
poem springs. But it flattered Poe’s pride
of intellect to assert that his cooler reason had control
not only over the execution of his poetry, but over
the very well-head of thought and emotion. Some
of his most successful stories, like the Gold Bug,
the Mystery of Marie Roget, the Purloined
Letter, and the Murders in the Rue Morgue,
were applications of this analytic faculty to the
solution of puzzles, such as the finding of buried
treasure or of a lost document, or the ferreting out
of a mysterious crime. After the publication
of the Gold Bug he received from all parts
of the country specimens of cipher-writing, which he
delighted to work out. Others of his tales were
clever pieces of mystification, like Hans Pfaall,
the story of a journey to the moon, or experiments
at giving verisimilitude to wild improbabilities by
the skillful introduction of scientific details, as
in the Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar and
Von Kempelen’s Discovery. In his
narratives of this kind Poe anticipated the detective
novels of Gaboriau and Wilkie Collins, the scientific
hoaxes of Jules Verne, and, though in a less degree,
the artfully worked up likeness to fact in Edward Everett
Hale’s Man Without a Country, and similar
fictions. While Dickens’s Barnaby Rudge
was publishing in parts Poe showed his skill as a
plot-hunter by publishing a paper in Graham’s
Magazine in which the very tangled intrigue of
the novel was correctly raveled and the finale predicted
in advance.