Poe's philosophy of art, as discovered in his
essays and his creative work, is purely Latin and, as such,
incomprehensible and even naughty to the Saxon mind. To the average
bookish Englishman Poe means "The Pit and the Pendulum," and his finest
poetry means nothing at all. Tell that Englishman that Poe wrote more
beautiful lyrics than Tennyson, and he will blankly put you down as mad.
(So shall I.)
* * * * *
Once, and not many years since, I contemplated editing a complete edition
of Poe, with a brilliant introduction in which I was to show that the
appearance of a temperament like his in the United States in the early
years of the nineteenth century was the most puzzling miracle that can be
found in the whole history of literature. Then, naturally, I intended to
explain the miracle. My plans were placed before a wise and good
publisher, whose reply was to indicate two very respectable complete
editions of Poe which had eminently failed with the public. Further
inquiries satisfied me that the public had no immediate use for anything
elaborate, final, and expensive concerning Poe. My bright desire therefore
paled and flickered out. Since then I have come to the conclusion that I
know practically nothing of the "secret of Poe," and that nobody else
knows much more.
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