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 Generally speaking, I neither understand old books very well, nor do I care for them--I have been able to read only Shakespeare, and perhaps one or two others, with the interest with which I approach modern writers. It has sometimes seemed to me that the unreadableness of the older authors might be made the foundation of a philosophic system. Yet I have met with some surprises. One was that I enjoyed the _Odyssey_. "Am I a hypocrite?" I asked myself. I do not find old painters to be as incompatible as old authors. On the contrary, my experience has been that they are the reverse. I greatly prefer a canvas by Botticelli, Mantegna, El Greco or Velázquez to a modern picture. The only famous painter of the past for whom I have entertained an antipathy, is Raphael; yet, when I was in Rome and saw the frescos in the Vatican, I was obliged again to ask myself if my attitude was a pose, because they struck me frankly as admirable. I do not pretend to taste, but I am sincere; nor do I endeavour to be consistent. Consistency does not interest me. The only consistency possible is a consistency which comes from without, which proceeds from fear of public opinion, and anything of this sort appears to me to be contemptible. Not to change because of what others may think, is one of the most abject forms of slavery. Let us change all we can. My ideal is continual change--change of life, change of home, of food, and even of skin. MY LIBRARY Among the things that I missed most as a student, was a small library. If I had had one, I believe I should have dipped more deeply into books and into life as well; but it was not given me. During the period which is most fruitful for the maturing of the mind, that is, during the years from twelve to twenty, I lived by turns in six or seven cities, and as it was impossible to travel about with books, I never retained any.