Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, Va. [W. Va.]) 1852-1859, 1858-11-30

BIZ the last mails we have from the publisher,
j. S. Redfeld, New York, beautifully gotten
up duodecimo volume of Edgar A. Poe's poems,
illustrated To illustrate Poe would naturally
seem to require Poe himself, and of course ar
tistic ItteTateurs will differ greatly in their esti
mates of these finely executed whatever the
designs may beg pictures The book opens with
an original biographical sketch of Poe, which
is much the same with several critiques thatwe
have read. In factit seems impossible for Poe's
biographers to be far apart for his individuality
was so distinct, his genius and his sins being
alike SO obvious, as to admit of no material dis
crepancy. The best thing that can be said for
him, in our opinion, is said in this sketch be-
fore us viz: ''thatit would be well for all poets
if nothing more were known of their lives, than
what they infuse into their poetry" Edgar A.
Poe had probably the worst moral character of
any man who ever wrote poetry. The author of
this memoir thinks he has found a key to the true
Interpretation of Poe in the fact ''that there is
nowhere observable in his writings the con-
seriousness of moral responsibility"
''They are full of the subtleties of passion of
grief, despair, and longing, but they contain
They are the productions of one whose religion
was worship of the Beautiful, and who knew
no beauty but that which was purely sensuous
There were but two kinds of beauty for him,
and they were Form and Color. He revealed in
an ideal world of perfect shows, and was made
wretched by any imperfection of art The
Leaore whose loss he deplored, was fair being
to tho eye, beautiful creature like Undine,
without soul. With this key to the character
of the poet, there is no difficulty in fully COM
pretending the strange Inconsistencies, the
basencss and nobleuess which his hayward life
exhibited
This is tolerable fair specimen of the style
of the memoir from which we quote, as it is
also, in all likelihood, just appreciation of the
subject of the memoir
The poems open, of course, with the "Raven,'
from which, for the sake of the illustration we
quote:
"once upon midnight dreary while pondered weak and
Oyer many quaint curious volume
While nodded-nearly napplng-suddenly there came
As Of some gently rappng-rapping at my chamber
IT'S visitor muttered-tnppng at my chamber door,
Only this and nothing
The illustration of this opening of the poem
wherein Poe's fame as poet rests is that of a
youth seated in massive cushioned chair, be.
fore table, upon whichis lamp of the old fash
ion, shaded, and sending forth some wild fickers
of light around the disordered looking apart
ment The youth is half turned round in his
chair, his brow somewhat contorted, while an
expression of Standardization, wonder and fear
is over his features. He is supposed to be lis
tening for repetition of the rapping at his
chamber door," He holds in his hands one of
the quaint volumes of "forgotten lore," while
several more, with huge clasps on, lie scattered
about or piled up in an old easement before
him.
This opening of the Raven is not passage
about which there could be much doubt or
much merit in the illustration. 1t is entirely
matter of fact. A more difficult, or rather a
totally different passage for the skill of the de-
signer, was that of the opening of ''Ulnlume.''
Forinstance: who could definitively call up be-
fore them in a shape presentablo to the outward
eye such place as this?
twas hard Inv the dim Lake NJ Auher