Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-08-23

him several sheets OF generous foolscap.
on which I had copied for a friend The
Raven as IL was first published. He re-
queSted me to read Ii aloud. and. as 1
did so. slowly and carefully. he sat. pen
ell In hand. ready to mark the difhcult
passages of which he had spoken.
II paused at the third line. Had l not
myself often noted the incongruity of rep
resenting the poet as bordering over
many a volume instead of a single one ,
I glanced inquiringly at Mr.. Poe and.
noting his unconscious look proceeded.
When I reached the line,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghos,
upon the floor.
he gave a slight shiver or shrug of the
shoulders-an expressive motion habitual
to him-and the pencil came down VIII.
an emphatic stroke beneath the six last
words
This was one of the hardest knots he
SAID. nor could he find way of gett!Ng
over IT. 'Ember' was the only word rhym-
ing Win the two preceding lines. but in
no way could he dispose of il except as
ne had done-thus producing the worst
line In the poem
The line that caused the author in his
time SO much anxiety seems one OF the
most successful to us. The next pause
the writer goes on to say. was at the
word beast" through which he ran his
pencil. Bird or beast upon the sculp-
tured bust above my chamber door" 81
must get rid of that word he remark
ed. for of course no beast could be ex-
pected to occupy such a positio n.'' oh
yes. a mouse for instance" Mrs. Weiss
suggested. at which he gave her one of
ms rare humorous smiles. The next Sc
rlous difficulty appeared in the lines:
With my head at ease reclining
On the cushions velvet lining.
Cushions Outside Lining.
Mrs. Weiss says on this point:
T.
lining. blunder obvious to every reader.
Poe said that the only way he could see
OF getting over the difficulty was by
emitting the whole stanza. But he was
unwilling to give up that violet velvet
chalr, which, with the purple silken cur
tain. he considered a picturesque adjunct
TO the scene. imparting to 1t a character
OIL luxury which served as a relief to the
more somber surroundings l had so
OFTEN heard this impossible lining criti-
cised that when he inquired. Shall I
omit or retain the stanza?' / ventured to
suggest that it might be better to give up
the stanza than have the poem married by
oefect SO conspicuous. For moment
he held the pencil poised. as IL in doubt.
and l have since wondered what would
have been his decision.
But just here We were interrupted by
the tumultuous entrance of my little dog,
Pink, in hot pursuit of the family cat.
III iottCi lOoh IcluSc DcHSdtn the IdDte
at which we were seated. and there en-
sued brisk exchange of duelistic passes.
until L called off Pink and Mr. Poe took
up the cat and. placing it on his knee,
stroked her soothingly. inquiring il she
were my pet. Upon my disclaiming any
Partially for felines. he said, I like
them. and continued his gentle caressing.
But now came the final and most diff
cult 'tangle' of all-the blunder apparent
to the world-the defect which mars the
whole poem, and yet is contained in but
a single line:
And the lamplight DER him streaming casts his
shadow on the floor.
Poe declared this to be hopeless, and
that 1t was, In fact, the chief cause of his
dissatisfaction with the poem. Indeed, II
may we'll excite surprise that he. so care
full and fastidious as to the completeness
of his work, should have allowed The
Raven to go from his hands married by
a defect so glaring. but this Is proof that
he did indeed regard it as hopeless.
The manuscript copy of THE Raven.
with all its pencil-marks as made by Poe
sion of Mrs. Weiss for many years. She
says:
1T is yet photographed upon my memo
ry, with all the details here given from
an odd leaf of a journal which | kept
about that time-the quiet parlor. the out
side driZzle, the books, the roses, and the
face and figure of Mr.. Poe as he gravely
bent over that manuscript CODY of his
immortal poem of The Raven
Had he no premonition that even then
a darker shadow than that of The Raven
was lowering over him? 1t was one of the
last occasions on which l ever saw him."