Edgar Allan Poe: His Life, Letters, and Opinions — John H. Ingram, 1880, volume I — reading text

transcript of the “solution” will afford an idea of some of the difficulties to be overcome in its discovery: — “In one of those peripatetic circumrotations I obviated a rustic whom I snbjected to catechetical interrogation respecting the nosocomical characteristics of the edifice to which I was approximate. With a volubility uncongealed by the frigorific powers of villatic bashfulness, he ejaculated a voluminous replication from the universal tenor of whose contents I deduce the subsequent amalgamation of heterogeneous facts. Without dubiety incipient pretension is apt to terminate in final vulgarity, as parturient mountains have been fabulated to produce muscupular abortions. The institution the subject of my remarks, has not been without cause the theme of the ephemeral columns of quotidian journals, and enthusiastic encomiations in conversational intercourse.” The key to this cipher is as follows: — “But find this out, and I give it up.” Poe was not permitted to drop this subject so readily as he desired, at least as regards publicity. In publishing a long letter, in the December number of Graham’s, from a Mr. Tyler — who stated that he had been practically conversant with secret writing for several years, and must admit that, in the solution of the intricate hieroglyphics submitted to him, Poe had exhibited a power of analytical and synthetical reasoning he had never seen equalled — the poet, whilst commenting upon several misapprehensions in his correspondent’s communication, pointed out that his time was much occupied; and as, notwithstanding the limits he bad originally assigned to the challenged, they still continued to overwhelm him with correspondence, he must, perforce, in future decline to say anything further on the subject, deeply interesting though he found it to be. Meanwhile, in addition to this cryptographic matter, and the strain of editorial duties, Poe was also contributing reviews and book notices to the monthly issues of Graham’s Magazine; in July, amongst other matters, was a very eulogistic critique on Bolingbroke, and some remarkable utterances on the Temperance Movement. This latter, Poe declared, was the most important reformation the world had ever known, but that “its great feature had never yet been made a subject of comment. We mean,” he explained, “that of adding to man’s happiness . . . by the simple and most effectual process of exalting his capacity for enjoyment. The temperate man,” he opined, “carries within his own bosom, under all circumstances, the true, the only elements of bliss.” The weird “Colloquy of Monos and Una,” already alluded to in connection with the Stannard episode, appeared in the August number of Graham’s. This tale, in its attempt to search out the secrets of mortality beyond death — to define the indefinable — is most masterful; nor Coleridge, nor De Quincey, nor any man, ever wrought the like; and, as a literary work, it is simply unique. The early portion of the “Colloquy” is an attack upon certain utilitarian and democratic tendencies of the time, the value and ultimate results of which were by no means perceptible to the poet. “At long intervals,” one of his ultra-mortal characters remarks, “some master-minds appeared, looking upon each advance in practical science as a retrogradation in the true utility; . . . that knowledge was not meet for man in the infant condition of his soul. . . . The poets — living and perishing amid the scorn of the ‘utilitarians‘of rough pedants, who arrogated to themselves a title which could have been properly applied only to the scorned-these men, the poets, pondered piningly, yet not unwisely, upon the ancient days when our wants were not more simple than our enjoyments were keen; — days when mirth, was a word unknown, so solemnly deep-toned was happiness; holy, august, and blissful days, when blue rivers ran undammed, between hills unknown, into far-forest solitudes, primeval, odorous, and unexplored. . . . Alas! we had fallen upon the most evil of all our evil days. The great ‘movement’ — that was the cant term — went on: a diseased commotion, moral and physical. . . . Among other odd ideas, that of universal equality gained ground; and in the face of analogy and of Godin despite of the loud warning voice of the laws of gradation so visibly pervading all things — wild attempts at an omniprevalent democracy were made.” From this vain and vague outbreak at the nature of surrounding things, the poet passes on to the true theme of his imagination, to that strange attempt to pierce the impenetrable veil which oversbrouds the visage of death made in this “Colloquy.” The same month that this tale appeared, appeared also several reviews by Poe. In the, most important of these, that on Mr. Wilmer’s “Quacks of Helicon,” the poet’s discontent at the contemporary state of affairs is strongly expressed, and it is easy to comprehend, after perusal of this philippic, why certain members of the American literary republic are still so sore when Poe or Wilmer are on the tapis. The former welcomes the work under review because, among other reasons, “in the universal corruption and rigmarole amid which we gasp for breath, it is really a pleasant thing to get even one accidental whiff of the unadulterated air of truth.” The reviewer, after reprimanding Mr. Wilmer for the indecency of his satire, which he considers has done the work irreparable injury, without in any way enhancing its value on the score of sarcasm, vigour, or wit, as nothing vulgar should “ever be said or conceived,” proceeds to commend the author for, above all his other merits, the far loftier merit of speaking fearlessly the truth, at an epoch when truth is out of fashion, and under circumstances of social position which would have deterred almost any man in our community from a similar Quixotism. “For the publication of the ‘Quacks of Helicon,’ — a poem which brings under review, by name, most of our prominent literati, and treats them, generally, as they deserve (what treatment could be more bitter?) — for the publication of this attack, Mr. Wilmer, whose subsistence lies in his pen, has little to look for — apart from the silent respect of those at once honest and timid — but the most malignant open or covert persecution. For this reason, and because it is the truth which he has spoken, do we say to him from the bottom of our hearts, God speed!” “We repeat it: it is the truth which he has spoken; and who shall contradict us? He has said unscrupulously what every reasonable man among us has long known to be as true as the Pentateuch’ — that, as a literary people, we are one vast perambulating humbug. He has asserted that we are toque-ridden; and who does not smile at the obvious truism of that assertion? Ile maintains that chicanery is, with us, a far surer road than talent to distinction in letters. Who gainsays this? The corrupt nature of our ordinary criticism has become notorious. Its powers have been prostrated by its own arm. The intercourse between critic and publisher, as it now almost universally stands, is comprised either in the paying and pocketing of black-mail, as the price of a simple forbearance, or in a direct system of petty and contemptible bribery, properly so called — a system even more injurious than the former to the true interests of the public, and more degrading to the buyers and sellers of good opinion, on account of the more positive character of the service here rendered for the consideration received. We laugh at the idea of any denial of our assertions upon this topic; they are infamously true. In the charge of general corruption, there are undoubtedly many noble exceptions to be made. There are, indeed, some very few editors who, maintaining an entire independence, will receive no books from publishers at all, or who receive them with a perfect understanding, on the part of these latter, that an unbiassed critique will be given. But these cases are insufficient to have much effect on the popular mistrust: a mistrust heightened by late exposure of the machinations of coteries — in New York — coteries which, at the bidding of leading booksellers, manufacture, as required from time to time, a pseudo-public opinion by wholesale, for the benefit of any little hanger-on of the party, or pettifogging protector of the firm.” It is impossible to avoid sympathising with Poe’s scornful bitterness, in respect to this matter, and to help feeling that the existing evil — for the evil did exist then, and does exist now — could only be met by such outspoken language; and it is a remarkable commentary on the poet’s words that Mr. Wilmer, in 1859,* is found declaring that when he published an article on “Edgar A. Poe and his Calumniators,” not a single paper noticed the vindicatory work, “whereas the whole press of the country seemed desirous of giving circulation and authenticity to the slanders.” These facts — for facts they are — speak for themselves. Noticeable reviews from the poet’s pen in August were upon the Lives and Poetic Works of Margaret Davidson (one of Southey’s protégées), and “L. E. L.” The September number of Graham’s contained the tale of “Never Bet the Devil your Head” — a skit at the “Moral”-mongers — and various book notices, the most interesting being a severe critique on Campbell for his “Life of Petrarch” Whilst deeming the Italian poet entitled to the highest consideration as a patriot, and for his zeal and judgment in the preservation of priceless literary treasures, Poe cannot refrain from confessing that he does not “regard the genius of Petrarch as a subject for enthusiastic admiration,” nor the characteristics of his poetry as displaying traits of the highest, or even of a high, order. “Grace and tenderness” he grants him; “but these qualities are surely insufficient to establish his poetical apotheosis.” A temporary absence from Philadelphia prevented Poe contributing to Graham’s for October; but in November he commenced, and continued through three consecutive numbers, a series of papers on “Autography.” These analyses of character were new, and different from the articles bearing a similar title published previously in the Southern Literary Messenger; they were more critical, more caustic, their author now more widely known, whilst the publication in which they appeared had a far larger and far more influential circulation, and, consequently, they created many more fresh enemies for their inditer. * The process need not be described in these pages. — J. H. I. * In Graham’s Magazine. — J. H. I. † Philadelphia Saturday Evening Post. — J. H. I. [[Review of Barnaby Rudge, May 1, 1841. * Vide “Our Press Gang; or, a Complete Exposition of the Corruption and Crimes of the American Newspapers.” John H. Ingram, “Chapter 13,” Edgar Allan Poe: Life, Letters, and Opinions (1880), pp. 207-258 CHAPTER XIII. REVERSES. THE closing month of 1841 left Edgar Poe in one of the most brilliant and prosperous periods of his literary career. The current volume of Graham’s Magazine ended in a blaze of triumph, the final page containing the statement that, “Perhaps the editors of no magazine, either in America or Europe, ever sat down at the close of a year to contemplate the progress of their work with more satisfaction than we do now. Our success has been unexampled, almost in credible. We may assert, without fear of contradiction, that no periodical ever witnessed the same increase during so short a period. We began the year almost unknown; certainly, far behind our contemporaries in numbers; we close it with a list of twenty-five thousand subscribers, and the insurance on every hand that our popularity has as yet seen only its dawning. But if such is the orient, what will our noonday be?” Few can doubt but that this success — unparalleled for those days — was due chiefly to the talents of Edgar Poe. His tales, his essays, and, above all, his undaunted critiques, inaugurated a