as the roots of genius. Do we admire what we understand, or what we do
not understand? Admiration is of two kinds, of which the more common
proceeds from wonder at something which we do not understand. There is,
however, an admiration which goes with understanding.

Edgar Poe composed several stories, of which _The Goldbug_ is one,
in which an impenetrable enigma is first presented, to be solved
afterwards as by a talisman; but, then, a lesson in cryptography ensues,
wherein the talisman is explained away, and the miraculous gives place
to the reasoning faculties of a mind of unusual power.

He has done something very similar in his poem, _The Raven_, where
the poem is followed by an analysis of its gestation, which is called
_The Philosophy of Composition_. Would it be more remarkable to
write _The Raven_ by inspiration, or to write it through conscious
skill? To find the hidden treasure through the talisman of _The
Goldbug_, or through the possession of analytical faculties such as
those of the protagonist of Poe's tale?

Much consideration will lead to the conclusion that one process is as
marvellous as the other.

It may be said that there is nothing miraculous in nature, and it may be
said that it is all miraculous.




MY LITERARY AND ARTISTIC INCLINATIONS