EDGAR ALLAN POE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2840, 19 August 1908, Page 76

EDGAR ALLAN POE.

"Dear Emmeline — A genius without application — a mas wthb might have done much, and did 1 little; bcrilliarnt, gifted, and a drifter in life's ways; one who wrecked his life over and aver again by his imcontrolled passions. Such is the epitome of Edgar Allan Poe's character; yet, despite these things, surely a few of his verses give him title to «, sea* at our meeting. For pure melody and a lilt entirely his own Poe stands apart from other poets. There ia music in the very" words he uses, in th* fantastic style, in the peculiar length of limes. Of .course the popularity in schoolbooks of his two most famous pieces has done its best in no small' degree to spoil them. But they have withstood very well the dreary monotone of theaverage school child, and the vivid reality of "The Bells" still stands out in all its quaint fantasy. His was a wasted He* had so many chances, and wrote "failure" against them all. His father had married an actress when he was but 18 years old, and took also to the stage for a livelihood. The first two years of Poe's life must have been spent in wandering with his parents from town to town. But beyond the date of his birth in Boston on February 19, 1809. there seems no landmark concerning the family till two years later, when Mars Poe, by then a widow, died, and her three children ware adopted by various friends — Edgar, by a Mr Allan — judging by h"ig name txrobably a godfather, or close friend. His guardian was a prosperous man, and he and his wife 1 spoilt the child with over-attention. No one must .cross him! He must be his own' master! And thus the conceit in the higlrstrung. sensitive nature was fostered, and where the lad phould 1 have shown gratitude he showed indificrenlS, taking all as a right, and demanding- more. Yet he must have had many pood traits to counteract this arrogance, for the Allans adored him', and so, indeed, did most with whom he came in close contact. This training, or want of training, was a bad beginning for a university life. His genius and brilliant wit made him a good compan:on, his love of gambling gave him touch with many 'likeminded youths, and is university e-xit was not a glorious one. He had nothing to show but debts and a supreme indifference to the disappointment he had caused his adopted Barents. The boy was father to the man. He. drifted all ways: next to West Point, whence his first volume- of poems vms published. Mrs Allan died whilst he was there, and his dismissal for di cobeyingoxdisrs was the cause of a break with his adopted father. His success in a prose competition caused otheT friends to help him, and ho drifted into editorships and out again, got situations on magazine staffs, and lost them, and then he dirifted into married life His cousin Virginia became his wife, andi the fact of her and her mother's adoration for him proves that he must have tosld a key that' opened the door of an undefrnable charm, for all who knew him had the same tale of his oh arm, his .wit. and his gcodl comradeship, and yet far mor« clearly defined in the story of his life sure his bad ways, his arrogance, and his unebability. Poetic g«nius is wot a very marketable, quality, and it was only after his wife's death, and four years before his own, tSat "The Bavtm" brought him fams and a certain market for his waires. I quote some lines attributed to him, and I think they nvuft be his, thougbi not in our copy of his works. They, to my mind, sum up the dawn and the day more beautifully than any I know : — "Tb>e-n God smiled, and it was morning,

Matchless and supreme. Heaven's glory seemed sclorning

Earth with its esteem." The tireless devotion of his wife's mother is acknowledged in the lines given below, and because they show th« man, if not the poet, at his besit, I append them: —

"TO MY MOTTIER"

"Because I fe<el that in the heavens cbove

The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None go devotional as th?A of mother' : Thereiore by that dear name I long have called you — You who are more than mother unio me. And fill my faeart >f hearts, where Death in stall ed you

In setting my Virginia's spirit free. My mother — my own mother, who daed early,

Was but the mofher of myself; but you Are mothea U the one J love so* clearly. And thus are d-earer than the mother 1 knew By thai infinity with which my wife

Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life." The dainty lines of "Annabel Lee" shew the poet in as high a vein a. his» other ■wellknown pieces, and are too familiar to neecli quoting, and many other? wouM be well worthy of it. but space forbids. His poems show the delicate tracing of thie man who might have been ; his life-history tells the ctory of tho man who wag, and the difference is wide. " GKIB.

I almost think I hk« tEose lines "To My Mother" better than anything Poe wrote,

Gnib. His wasteo! life sfan<ss sfde By si«te with Chatterton, fox sadness and failure, and the difference between what he wfts -and{ wiiat he might- have been liae ife up-to-date parallel in fch© lctvely aspirations of the songs written by one of our favourite composers', as contrasted with the reality of his life. But what a caraftsman in words Poe was I