The best known of Poe's poems, The Raven,[2] was published in 1845, and it's notable for its trochaic octameter poetic meter, as illustrated by its first line: [Once up-]1 [on a]2 [mid-night]3 [drear-y]4, [while I]5 [pon-dered]6 [weak and]7 [wear-y]8. The poem features a raven (genus, Corvus) that repeatedly says, "Nevermore." This is not that strange, since ravens are talking birds. For this reason, ravens have culturally represented prophecy. There is also a constellation, Corvus, as shown on the right.
(Left image, Australian Raven (Corvus coronoides) by J.J. Harrison. Right image, Corvus constellation map by Torsten Bronger. Click for larger image.)
Left, the basic cipher operations of permutation and substitution. Permutation and substitution must happen by known rules derived from a passcode in order for the operations to be reversed to decrypt the encrypted message. The simple cipher in Poe's story, "The Gold-Bug," used substitution alone; so, letter frequency analysis (right) allowed an easy decryption.
(Images adapted from my children's book, Secret Codes and Number Games. Click for larger image.)
Separated at Birth? As I observed in an article that I had written a decade ago (Bohr model of the Atom, January 3, 2012), there's a strong resemblance between Edgar Allan Poe (left) and J.J. Thompson, who discovered the electron, (right). Image sources for Poe and Thompson via Wikimedia Commons.
Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art!To ameliorate his often miserable life, Poe would turn to drink, and he would also partake of the opium extract, laudanum. Both of these vices contributed to his significant health problems.[8] In the foreword to a psychoanalytical biography of Poe, Sigmund Freud diagnosed Poe as a pathological case, and this severely damaged Poe's reputation.[10] Poe, however, was typically sober and serious about writing over most of his career.[6] Astronomy was making significant advances in America during Poe's time, and Poe took a special interest in this topic. He even proposed a solution to Olber's paradox that a static and infinite universe should be completely bright.[10] His idea was that the furthest stars were so distant that their light had not yet reached Earth.[8] As a non-scientist, Poe had strange ideas of what constituted science. He respected circus entrepreneur, Phineas T. Barnum, because his "exhibitions were among the most important routes through which working-class audiences learned about natural history and popular mechanics."[6] Poe's final work, the prose poem, Eureka, was concerned with the nature of reality and the universe, and it was dedicated to the German scientist, Alexander von Humboldt (1769-1859).[8] The purpose of Eureka was "to speak of the Physical, Metaphysical and Mathematical - of the Material and Spiritual Universe - of its Essence, its Origin, Creation, its Present Condition and its Destiny."[8] It's a strange essay, but it contained some interesting ideas, some of which have probably been overblown in significance in later years, since his approach was more Aristotelian than scientific. One idea in Eureka was that the universe was generated from the explosion of a single primordial particle, the same idea as the Big Bang theory a century later.[8] It also considers the unity of space and time, mass–energy equivalence, and black holes. Eureka also embraced a theory of a cyclic universe, just recently invalidated by detailed measurements of cosmic expansion, and the idea of the multiverse, the existence of multiple universes, each with their own laws of physics.[10] Poe had a strange conception of gravitation, which he thought was an instantaneous effect not constrained by the speed of light.[10] Poe thought that he would be remembered more for his science than for his other writings.[8] Albert Einstein (1879-1955) read Eureka twice, in 1933 and 1940,[10] but he also had a copy of Immanuel Velikovsky's 1950 book, Worlds in Collision on his bedside table at his death.
Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes.
Why preyest thou thus upon the poet's heart,
Vulture, whose wings are dull realities?
How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise,
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering
To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies,
Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing?
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood,
The Elfin from the green grass, and from me
The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?