The herald., 1895-07-28
ANALYSIS OF
"THE RAVEN"
Stories of the Authors
Varied and Bitter
Experiences
WHO WAS HIS "LENORE +"
R0ssette Says That "The Raven" ID
spired His Famous Creation 1.-The
Blessed DamozeI'...Poe's
Nemesis
WHO WAS HIS "LENORE :"

versy between Poes' defenders an. his
critics. we prefer to give herewith our
analysis and what we believe to Ue the
significance, OF the weird imagery Of the
poem. We have talked with living wit
nesses who have heard one declaim the
piece in the woods OF Saratoga in 1s43.
when, by Poes own statement the poem
was already complete. The Raven, first
published in 1s45, was. the slow growth Of
years. and the capitalization of the auth
or's bitter experience.
1t is upon midnight dreary." The
studens is physically ''weak and weary, "
yet led TO ponder. '''nearly mapping" "
lover many q. quaint and curious vol
ume." The ghostiy light of tho dying
embers fickers wierdly ON the floor.
Confronted by poverty as by an armed
man, brooding over his troubles, he tried
to forget them in his book. From Poe s
many illusions to the uses of Morse words,
ideas and phrases, we conjecture that the
forgotten lore" is that of our pagan
forefathers. In the legend of Wodsn
(after whom Wednesday is named) the
raven of memory perches on his shoulder,
whispering in his ears all the past. One
of his hearers to whom Poe read the fin
ished poem. states that there was actu-
ally in the room at Fordham "a bust of
Pallas just above the chamber door, The
weary reader is musing upon this strange
idea of memory in the form of raven.
when he falls into waking vision of ere.
ative genius, which becomes the fabric OF
his master poem. He imagines he hears
tapping on the door. Filled with
nervous terror he hesltates to unlatch it,
but, at last. by an effort of will. he filings
the door wide open and finds nothing.
He peers into the yawning darkness.
There is only bleak December night. He
doubling. dreaming, in tho darkness un-
til he hears the whispered word Len
ore."
This "Lenore" whose name occurs so
often in his poems, may be that ideal
woman OF his fancy. who never lived on
earth-She rare and radiant maiden" OF
his dzeams-beautiful only with sensu-
and expression to the eye. but. like I'm
dine, without q soul. Others see in this
''lost Lenore" the TRANSPORTATION of his
wasted life, of his IDEAS untitled. of the
good lost, never to come back. The name
startles him. Intent on finding the whis-
perer. he opens the lattice. when there
appears raven. with many a tiirt and
Hiutter'' the bird enters and without fur
ther ceremony perches upon bust of
Pallas, Just above his cham ber door.
What is the meaning of this strange
poetic creation of Poe?
Is It not tnis: The black raven OF men,
ory had flown in from The dark night Of
the Norsemen's sable bird, upon their
god. yet not now on Woden. but ON the
deity which Poe worshiped, Pallas
Minerva-the god of literary art, of taste,
OF knowledge; for Poe's religion was
beauty, but not goodness. The marble
bust remained speechless while the bird
spoke. Wisdom had almost ceased to
raven, uttered her complaint. mooking the
voice OF Lenore and its burden was the
dirge Of hope 'Ncvermore.
But the raven. sitting lonely,
On that placid bust. spake only
That one word, as if his soul in
That one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered.
Not feather then he fiuttered-
Till scarcely more than muttered:
''Other friends have flown before
On the morrow he will leave me.
As my hopes have hown BEFORE"
Then the bird said, ''Nevermorev'
Never again the lost opportunities OF
childnood and boyhood! Nevermore
hope, pardon. peace! Out Of the
Nights Plutonian Shore only the
raven was henceforth to fly, croaking
"NevermoreW Over all the deluge OF
sin, feasting IN the floating carcasses OF
drowned hopes. the reckless mockef was
to fly to and fro ON the Hood. but no
white dove of peace was to bring back the
olive leaf, nor the Yainoow arch gild with
its peace token a rain-swept but purified
Landscape of life. Only the past with its
raven. but not the future with It's dove.
This is the reading between the poem S
lines. That lover Of SCOT and carron and
contagion was never TO leave him. The
poet wheels his cushioned seat in front
Of the fowl whose fiery ewes now
burned into his bosom's core" He be-
gan to link fancy unto fancy Not all
ia lost yet; tha future may be safe.
While thus brooding, as if to strengthen
him in right resolves, hope that ''springs
eternal in the human breast" now rises
to open the gates ofrepentance. The
angels OF grace. OF mercy, of love, troop
into the room. They plead with the way
ward man to cnange his life, to leave his
cups, his sin, and to have a new mind.
Hear HIM tell the story:
Then metho.ght the air grew denser,
Perfumed from an unseen censor.
Swung by Seraphlm. whose footballs
Tlnkled on the tuited floo..
Strengthened for the moment by these
good presences sent from heaven to in
spire bim with new impulses of right. he
now tries to drive away the bitter, black
memory; to exercise the demon from his
presence. He says to himself, rather than
to the raven:
Wretch thy God hath lent thee
BY these angels he hath sent thee