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Part III: Poe's Excursions into the Literary Burlesque
An examination of this varied group of burlesques current in the years when Poe was determining what type of story the public sought with avidity makes clear, I think, that to the popular taste of 1830, which showed a fondness for “quizzes” and hoaxes, we are indebted among his early stories for the satires, “A Tale of Jerusalem,” “Epimanes,” “Loss of Breath,” “How to Write a Blackwood. Article,” “A Predicament,”(38) “King Pest,” “Lionizing,” and perhaps “‘Why the Little Frenchman Wears His Hand in a Sling” and “Mystification.”(39) His observation of what was being published [page 283:] and favorably commented upon in his apprenticeship years gave him every reason to believe that such sketches would meet public approbation. A number of his later tale inspiration to the burlesque vein which he discovered in the early period.
As the object of two of his burlesques Poe chose the historical novel, prompted in that direction, perhaps, by a hint from the very author he selected for satirization. In 1830 the name of Horatio Smith, or the author of Brambletve House, was as well known as Bulwer's and Disraeli's. Smith had written several three-volume novels after the manner of Scott and had been particularly successful in dealing with the historical background of the early Christian era in Eastern Europe and Asia. Besides his numerous volumes of fiction, he had written poetry, light essays, stories, and satirical sketches, published frequently in the New Monthly Magazine and in volume form. But this “lion” of 1830 has today virtually passed into oblivion; so it is, after all, no wonder that, when directed at Smith “Poe's burlesque intent has been so long overlooked”(40) until pointed out originally by [page 284:] Professor Wilson. Even in his own period Poe was perhaps better informed upon English men of letters than many of his contemporaries, who failed to catch his satirical aim. It must be admitted also that he wrote his satires very cleverly and that, since he was denied the opportunity of presenting then in the form he intended, a great deal of research, reorganization, and speculation has been necessary to arrive at the little we do know about them.
Horatio Smith, however, had pointed the way toward a series in his Midsummer Medley for 1830, a collection which he described as a “Series of Comic Tales, Sketches, and Fugitive Vagaries.” Most of the Tales in this collection are narrated in a bantering fashion. For example, introduction to “Hatem Tai: An Arabian Tale”(41) strikes the keynote of his method:
An Arabian Tale! Positively I cannot relate it unless I have Arabian listeners; and to become such my auditors must all sit cross-legged in a circle; which is as indispensable to my proper inspiration, as was the tripod to that of the ancient Pythoness. One cross-legged person I must have, at all events, to prevent my imagination from flagging; and, as there is no tailor [page 285:] at hand, thou gentle Reader, must submit to the operation. ... But have you prepared your mind, most accommodating Reader, as well as your body? Have you laid in a stock of the genuine Arabian, blind, unenquiring credulity? Look! .......... Ha! ....... Li!(42)
Most intimately connected with Poe's early efforts, however, is a sketch called “Hints to Young Novel Writers,” with the motto,
Well may we tolerate the laughing elf,
Who in his ridicule includes himself,
and with “Specimens” of each style of novel suggested.(43) For prospective novelists Smith set forth the formulas to be followed if one wished to produce various types of popular novels. For the sentimental, there must be an abundance of stale and hackneyed quotations handed down from Solomon; for the Radcliffe vein, a mystery, a spectre, a supernatural appearance of some sort, a serenade, impromptu verses, soliloquies, and an appalling title are requisite; for the fashionable Almack's variety, there must be much personality and scandal, a great deal of dialogue, one half to be in French, and leading characters of the peerage; for the tragic, or intense, either a suicide, or death by [page 286:] public execution, or transportation to Botany Bay, is essential. The historical novel, according to Smith, should be undertaken by none but “those learned antiquaries and profound scholars who have not only turned over the plates of the Archaeologia, the Monumenta Vetusta, Dr. Heyrick's Ancient Armour, the Gentleman's Magazine, and similar rare and erudite publications, but who have carefully read at least one History of England all through, and have dipped here and there into ... old chronicles.” He added that “No one is expected to read the whole of these ponderous tomes; what is required will generally be found without trouble by a recurrence to the index, or by means of a few books of reference.” The style should be as quaint and obsolete as possible; it is not at all necessary that it belong to any particular period. The author should be especially careful to consider chronological accuracy. He should also convey “as much antiquarian lore as can be collected without too much trouble,” for a historical novel is “a sort of Omnibus for dates and fact of all sorts.” That which cannot be put into the body of the narrative should be appended in foot-notes. [page 287:]
What Smith wrote humorously of the historical novel is of especial interest, since “in his ridicule he includes himself.” Apparently he retraced his steps in creation in very much the same fashion that Poe satirized his own procedure in “How to Write a Blackwood Article.”
When Poe wrote “A Tale of Jerusalem,” he created a burlesque of Smith's Zillah(44) which might very well have been included among Smith's comic specimens of the various types of fiction. Zillah recounts the story of Jerusalem during the turbulent days immediately preceding the Christian era, with its main interest centered, in Zillah, the beautiful daughter of a Sagan of the Temple. The narrative concludes with the stirring and dramatic days in Jerusalem when it was besieged and taken by Roman troups [[troops]]. On the title-page the novel is called Zillah: or a Tale of the Holy City,(45) but throughout the three volumes the sub-title runs, “A Tale of Jerusalem.” With this as the title of his burlesque, Poe related an incident of the siege — three bileaguered [[beleaguered]] Jews bargaining from [page 288:] the walls with Roman soldiers below for a lamb as a Temple offering. The Romans perpetrated the cruel jest of substituting for the promised lamb an immense hog.
As Professor Wilson has indicated, it is chiefly by means of dialogue and the exclamations of his Jewish characters that Poe suggested his burlesque of Zillah; they exclaimed “Raca,” “El Elohim,” “El emanu,” and “Booshoh he,” just as did the characters of the novel. In the very language of the novel they protested the blasphemy of calling upon Phoebus, described by the Roman soldiers below as “no bigger than the letter Jod,” referred to the “five corners of the beard, is which Smith explained in a footnote, and exclaimed that it was the “unutterable flesh” when the hog appeared in the basket, just as the Sagan in Zillah, upon one occasion, refused to partake of the “unutterable flesh” and, upon another, expressed his loathing of the rhinoceros because it was shaped like the unclean, the unutterable animal of abomination.”
Recently Mr. John Grier Varner, Jr., has pointed out that Poe's anecdote of the bargaining for a lamb as a Temple offering and the substitution of the abhorred pig was a well-known Jewish tradition found not [page 289:] only in the Talmud but in other accounts of Jewish history.(46) If the immediate source from which Poe took his incident can be located, it will probably throw light upon other stories, particularly upon “Epimanes.”
Poe probably wrote “Epimanes” as a companion-piece to “A Tale or Jerusalem.”(47) Both were undoubtedly to be told, I think, by the member of the “Folio Club” “with very big nose, had been in Asia Minor.”(48) Although not published until 1836, “Epimanes” [page 290:] was in existence as early as 1835, when Poe mentioned it in a letter to Kennedy,(49) and may have been written as early as 1834. Like “A Tale of Jerusalem,” It appears to be a burlesque of Smith's historical tales, being written somewhat after the model of his Tales of Earlier Ages.(50) Smith's collection included five tales: “The Involuntary Prophet: A Tale of the First Century,” which deals with a Jewish family in Rome in [page 291:] the time of Nero and in Jerusalem at its fall; “Theodore and Telphosa: A Tales of the second Century,” which relates the story of a love affair in Greece involved with the Olympian games; “Olaf and Brynhilda: A Tale of the Third Century,” which depicts two Goths caught up in the war against the Romans and transplanted eventually to Antioch; “Sebastian and Lydia: A Tale of the Fourth Century,” which has to do with the spread of Christianity from Alexandria; and “The Siege of Caer-Broe: A Tale of the Fifth Century,” which involves characters and events in early Britain. For all of these tales Smith used the device of that he called “auctorial” power to waft his “gentle reader” from an England of the nineteenth century to the first century and then successively, to the second, third, fourth, and fifth centuries, transferring them at the same time on “wings of imagination” from one setting to another. In true guide fashion the auctorial conductor comments at the opening of “The Involuntary Prophet”:
... lo! thy disembodied spirit thrown back into the first century, is whisking with me through the charmed air, athwart the heaving billows of the English Channel, and over the hills and valleys of Gaul, in the direction of Italy. ... Let us repress our wings and drop nearer to the earth. ... Come! shall we, pass through this enclosure, and [page 292:] take a peep at the interior buildings? Remember we are invisible and instead of fearing the challenge of those Praetorian soldiers stationed at the guard-house, we may boldly make our way through the very midst of them. ... And now, gentle reader, having thus formally introduced you to the personages with whom I commence my tale, I shall relieve you from the trouble of further colloquy, and pursue my narrative without interruption.(51)
“Auctorical conment” also makes clear the chronological transitions:
Behold! I have waved mine [quill] in the air — it hath subjected time and space to my wishes, and hey! presto! pass! the rapt reader is suddenly whisked away from the second to the third century, and from the classic scenes of Greece, to the haunts of barbarians.
Do you see yonder interminable succession of dark frowning woods. ... It is the great primeval Hercynian forest.(52)
It is very likely that this device of auctorial comment and of author-reader point of view explains the seemingly dull and purposeless frame-work in which Poe set his “Epimanes,” Just as Smith had done, he transferred the reader from 1836 to the year of the world, 3830, from a modern world to an ancient Antioch: and author and reader became spectators of events in the time of Antiochus Epiphanes. [page 293:]
Let us suppose, gentle reader, that it is the year of the world three thousand eight hundred and thirty, and let us, for a few minutes, imagine ourselves at that most grotesque habitation of man, the remarkable city of Antioch. ... But I perceive we have arrived at the city itself. Let us ascend this battlement, and throw our eyes upon the town and neighboring country.
... Therefore cease to regard that sea, and give your whole attention to the mass of houses that lie beneath us. You will remember that it is now the year of the world three thousand eight hundred and thirty ... . I see you profit by my advice, and are making the moat of your time in inspecting the premises. ...
Hark! — behold: — who can those ridiculous beings, half naked, with their faces painted, shouting and gesticulating to the rabble? “ ... But what have we here? Heavens” the town is swarming with wild beasts! How terrible a spectacle! How dangerous a peculiarity!”
Let us descend, for the love of fun, and see what is going on! This way — be careful: — Let us ensconce ourselves in the vestibule of the sanctuary; he will be here anon. In the meantime let us survey this image.
If we consider “Epimanes” in relation to Smith's Tales and as designed originally as a burlesque of the latter, then Poe's apparently meaningless allusions to dates become clear. In this connection it should be remembered that Smith in his satiric “Hints” had emphasized the proper observance of chronology in historical novels; that he had stressed, in the introductory material to each of the Tales of Earlier Ages, the proper orientation in time and place for an [page 294:] appreciation of each narrative, that the three volumes of the Tales are given a sort of unity by means of chronological arrangement; and, finally, that Poe's tale was probably meant to be told by “Chronologos Chronology.”
Smith recommended another device as necessary to the properly executed historical novel: the frequent use of footnotes in order to give “That he called, in his “Hints,” “important information upon obscure details.” In compliance with his own directions, he sprinkled his Tales of Earlier Ages copiously with notes. Poe also slipped in a footnote for “historical dignity,” and interpolated frequent parentheses, a better device for magazine publication, for the name purpose: “It was built (although about this matter there is some dispute) by Seleucue Nicanor”; “emperors of the Queen City (among whom may be mentioned, especially, Verus and Valens)”, and “His name is a derivation of the Greek Simia — what great fools are antiquarians!”
Throughout the Tales of Earlier Ages Smith introduced crude extempore verses and triumphal chants, presumably to add atmosphere and to maintain, I think, [page 295:] his half-humorous tone of narration. The “Tale of Olaf and Brynhilda,” for example, concludes with the following:
Ho! ho! let the blood ‘now!
Thou dagger witch-curs’d!
Do scathe to thy bearer,
As thou didst at the first,
When my son was the wearer,
And for Wolfgang's sake
Their life-blood take. —
I am come! I am come! to dip my thumb
In the gore of thy victim — Hurra! hurra!
I have had my revenge, so Ha! ha! ha! ha!(53)
Mark, the clownish slave of “Sabastian and Lydia,” upon one occasion tried to divert the minds of a group in distress with a satiric song upon the gods. A stanza from it will indicate its nature:
Alack and alas! it path no come to pass,
That the Gods of Olympus, those Cheats of the world
Who bamboozled each clime from the birthday of Time,
Are at length from their mountebank eminence hurl’d.
Poe may have had this stylistic device in mind then he depicted the multitude in “Epimanes” chanting the king's extempore song, “A thousand, a thousand, a thousand,” and represented the king himself as strenuously singing his lusty tong of triumph: [page 296:]
Who is king but Epiphanes?
Say — do you know?
Who is king but Epiphanes?
Bravo! — bravo!
There is none but Epiphanes?
No — there is none:
So tear down the temples,
And put out the sun!
Apparently the tale of “Olaf and Bryhhilda” suggested to Poe his historical background for “Epimanes.” As a mercenary soldier in the army of Valerian, the Roman emperor, Olaf the Goth sailed up the broad Orontes and landed at Antioch. There he found a city, “considered the third in the world for beauty, greatness, and population, and pompously termed the pearl and glory of the East.” He and his barbarian companions were saved by the stately buildings, the vast and numerous temples, the baths, theatres, and other public edifices, and the long narrow streets, thronged with a population so totally dissimilar, both in costume and education, from anything they had hitherto seen.” They were particularly amazed by the Oriental tastes and pursuits and by the strange array of wild animals. “The people of Antioch had been famous for their skill in taming wild beasts; many individuals were seen walking in public, attended by a lion or a bear, following them like a dog; every [page 297:] shady place was crowded with fortune-tellers, conjurer, astrologers, magicians, and mountebanks of all descriptions.”(54)
After the defeat of Valerian by the Persian King, Sapor, the captives — among them Valerian and Olaf — were taken to Ecbatans, the Persian King's summer residence, a place distinguished by the grandeur of its buildings, its flowery balconies, and its lofty minarets. Most imposing of all was the Temple of the Sun, “a massive fabric of enormous dimensions, supported by columns in the form of palm-trees, surrounded with gilded galleries, and decorated with all the gorgeousness that an Eastern imagination could suggest.”(55) The captives were forced to take part in a magnificent triumphal recession which ended in this temple, with Sapor acting as the high priest of the Sun.
For the setting of his “Epimanes” Poe probably took hints from Smith's portrayal of Antioch and supplemented these with facts which he already knew, or, [page 298:] more likely, looked up about Antioch and its most notorious king. Except for a few details, Poe's description apparently owes little to Smith, but these points of similarity are, I think, of such a nature indicate somewhat definitely that “Olaf and Brynhilda” suggested his background of Antioch. Both Smith and Poe described the streets of the city as thronged with mountebanks and odd figures of every description; in keeping with his satiric intent, Poe explained these “ridiculous beings” as “courtiers of the palace.” Both alluded to the taming of wild animals by the inhabitants of Antioch. Although this detail probably exists in other accounts of the city, I have been unable to find it in the ordinary sources which Poe might have consulted. Then, too, it was introduced by Poe and Smith in identical fashion; in each case it was a cause of astonishment to the author-reader audience of the nineteenth century. In Poe's tale, of course, the incident became important in precipitating the climax of the animal rebellion against the cameleopard.
Another interesting trace of Poe's probable following of Smith's suggestions about Antioch is his locating of the Temple of the Sun in that city. Smith [page 299:] had described it as one of the central buildings in Eobatana, the Persian summer capital. Since Poe found it necessary to condense his material and present a unified setting in his tale, he may deliberately have removed this striking and suggestive edifice to the Syrian capital.(56) It is altogether possible that this [page 300:] relocation of the Temple of the Sun as due merely to a mistaken reading of Smith. At this point of the narrative in “Olaf and Brynhilda” the action moves so rapidly and the details so hurried and confused that the transfer of settings overlooked in a casual reading.
Still another significant indication of Poe's conscious use of Smith's account in his allusion to Heliogabalus and his sun-worship cult in connection with Antioch.(57) Smith mentioned Heliogabalus in a footnote as having had his portrait painted as Pontiff [page 301:] of the Sun and sent to the Senate-house in Rome, a portrait which showed him dressed exactly as was the Persian emperor when he officiated in the Temple of the Son at Eobatana.
Finally, both Poe and Smith commented auctorially upon the limitations of the worship accorded the Sun by, in one case, the Antiochans and, in the other, the Persians. Smith alluded to the Persian worship as stopping with the sun and its temple representation instead of seeking out the God behind the rays. He added that the Persians reverenced fire greatly because of its association with the sun. Poe commented:
You need not look up at the Heavens; his Sunship is not there — at least not the Sunship adored by the Syrians. That Deity will be found in the interior of yonder building. He is worshipped under the figure of a large stone pillar terminating at the summit in a cone or pyramid, whereby is denoted Fire.(58)
In spite of the close parallels between Poe's materials and those of Smith, we must not overlook, of course, the ever-present possibility of their merely having used the same source materials for their respective accounts of Antioch. The similarities in their treatments, [page 302:] however, as well as the resemblances between details, appear sufficiently close to warrant the conclusion that in all probability Poe was familiar with Smith's Tales of Earlier Ages.
For additional details about the location and appearance of Antioch Poe probably went to an encyclopedia. Practically identical accounts of the city may be found in Rees's Cyclopaedia and in the Encyclopedia Britannica (third edition) except that the latter does not mention the fact that Antioch became a station for Roman prefects and the seat of the church patriarchs of later times; both details were included by Poe in his description of the city. The article in Rees's Cyclopedia(59) states that Antioch was built in memory of Seleucuc Nicator, on the river Orontes, about twenty miles from where it empties into the Mediterrenean. “It soon became and continued for many ages, the metropolis of the East for Syrian kings and was afterwards chosen by the Roman governors who presided over the affairs of the eastern provinces, as their place of residence; and in the Christian [page 303:] times, it was the see of the chief patriarch of Asia.” In some detail the Cyclopaedia article explains the relation of Antioch to its notorious suburb, the grove of Daphné. “At a distance of about four or five miles was a place called Daphné, and reckoned a suburb of Antioch.” The rites there were so wanton that Daphné became infamous and the metropolis was distinguished by it as Antioch near Daphné.” The remainder of the article is devoted chiefly to a narration of the subsequent history of the city, its wars, earthquakes, and plagues. “Antioch ... anciently so renowned, is now no more than a ruinous town, the houses of which, built of mud and straw, and consisting of narrow and miry streets, exhibit every appearance of poverty and wretchedness.” The information that sixteen other cities were also called Antioch is given at the end of the article.
It will be noted that Poe gave practically these same details but with some interesting and significant changes: he called the founder of Antioch, Seleucus Nicanor; he located the city twelve, instead of twenty, miles from the Mediterrenean [[Mediterranean]]; he wrote that the city was known as Antioch Epidaphné instead of Antioch near Daphné; and he combined the imposing building described [page 304:] by Smith with the narrow streets and hovels of the later Antioch. Either he used his material carelessly or, as is more likely, he had recourse to a similar account elsewhere.
For, his information about Antiochus Epiphanes Poe probably sought out one, or several, of the bibliographical references suggested at the end of the encyclopedia accounts. Several of these references give details of the Syrian king with such slight variations that any one of them might have furnished his facts; all of them may be traced originally to Polybius, Maccabeus, and Josephus.(60) According to [page 305:] Rollin, “he assumed the title Epiphanes, that is, Illustrious, which title was never worse applied, the whole course of his life will show that he deserved much more than that of Epimanes (mad or furious) which come people gave him.” He indulged in the most freakish and degrading whims of personal amusement; rambled the streets unattended; caroused and “scoured up and down the city”; dressed in Roman robes and pelted any one who attempted to follow him with stones. After his plundering of Jerusalem and profanation of the temple, he solemnized games with incredible pomp to celebrate his triumph. “The part he there acted, during the whole time, answered, in every respect, to the character given him by Daniel.” He ridiculed all religions, magnified himself above every god, and died a horrible death in expiation of his impiety.
Rollin recorded that he was seated on the throne “A.M. 3830, Ant. JU. C. 174.” None of the other accounts I have read give the3 year of the world as 3830; some do not give a date; others vary widely. The years before Christ are variously given as 170, 174, or 175. Poe agreed with Rollin on the date, the year of the world 3830, but gave the year before Christ as [page 306:] 171. Poe alluded to Antiochus Epiphanes as the “God of the prophet Ezekial.” I find all early accounts making much of the prophecies of Daniel about him, but I have found no mention of the prophet Ezekial. Rollin traced for several pages the evidences of the accuracy of Daniel's prophecy about the misdeeds of this particular king and identified him as “the little horn which was to issue out of one of the four large horns” (the four kings who succeeded to the throne of Alexander the Great).(61)
A memory of this prophecy may have been responsible for Poe's later sub-title, “Four-Beasts-in-One,” though this probably derived from his use of the cameleopard or giraffe, as the grotesque masquerade of the king. Just how or why Poe came to conceive of using the giraffe as the animal impersonated by Antiochus is another of the minor mysteries connected with his work. There are, however, some traces of the origin of the idea. A footnote attached to “My First Night in a Watchhouse” (Extracts from the Autobiography of Pertinax Placid), an article in the July, 1835, issue of the Messenger, gave additional information [page 307:] about the French caricaturists and mentioned “a series of prints representing Charles X and his ministers, in the form of various beasts. The king was personated by the Giraffe, then exhibiting at the Jardin des Plantes in Paris — the ministers by other animals, whose instinctive qualities were intended to represent the several characteristics of those dignitaries.”(62) Either this reference to a king who masqueraded as a giraffe or his familiarity with the series of prints mentioned in the footnote could have inspired Poe's use of the giraffe-masquerade. He would have had ample time to revise his tale, already written, before its publication the following spring, if the allusion in the Messenger prompted his inclusion of that detail.
It is of interest to note also that the article to which the footnote was attached dealt with the principle of caricature in art and burlesque in literature. Its author wrote, that caricature “is truth presented through the medium of the ludicrous.” It is like the burlesque in writing, which exhibits an argument even more forcibly, because it presents the [page 308:] whole matter in a ridiculous light.” Poe associated the ludicrous with grotesquerie, and it is evident from the language of his story that he meant to create a grotesquerie. He called Antioch “that most grotesque habitation of man,” and commented after his description of the city, “But does not the appearance of Epidaphne justify me in calling it grotesque?” To the people of the early nineteenth century, no animal could have seemed more grotesque then the cameleopard, or giraffe, a little known, seldom seen, unique specimen. Baron Cuvier stated that modern naturalists had known this animal only since the time of Patterson, Gordon, and Le Vallion in South Africa in the eighteenth century.(63) It was known, however, to the Romans, was shown in the triumph of Aurelian, was represented in some medals and mosaics, and was described by Pliny and Heliodorus. The latter described it as having hinder parts like a lion, a neck lengthened out from the body like a swan, a head resembling a camel, and spots like a leopard. It differed, he wrote, from all [page 309:] other animal's in gait and “waddled in a remarkable manner.” It was so tractable that it was led by a string. “When it appeared, it struck the whole multitude with terror, and it took its name from the principal parts of its body, being called by the people, extempore, Camelopardalis.” Of its classification and appearance, Cuvier wrote:
We are now to consider an animal of so extraordinary a form and lofty a stature, that even the stuffed spoils, the almost shapeless representation of the living creature, produce upon the eye of the beholder a mixed effect of awe and astonishment. ... It stands isolated among the ruminating family, though its character offers a mixture of several genera.
Buffon also describes it as a “peculiar species” and stated that it constituted “a particular and solitary genus.”(64) Macloc's Universal Natural History added more specific details of the animal's appearance and habits. He wrote that “Its defence is in its heels, and the kicks are so extremely rapid, that they are sufficient to defend it against the lion.” He also stressed its uniqueness among animals.(65) [page 310:]
Perhaps because of his familiarity with the French caricaturist's representation of Charles X as a giraffe, or perhaps because of the grotesque cuts of the animals in the books of his time, Poe chose it as the masquerade of his ludicrous king in order to suggest the peculiar combination of traits which Antiochus displayed. His later re-naming of the tale, “Homo-Cameleopard: Four-Beasts-in-one,” was probably an attempt to give his tale additional point after it was lifted out of its proper frame as a satire on the historical novel.
It has long been recognized that for his “King Pest” Poe was indebted to Disraeli's description, in Vivian Grey, of the Grand Duke of Johannesberger's “Palace of Wines.”(66) Most critics have been chiefly concerned, however, with the gravity of Poe plagiarism in his borrowings,(67) or have merely agreed [page 311:] with Woodberry that Poe's tale very closely modeled upon. Disraeli's scene.”(68) In accordance with his theory that all the “Tales of the Folio Club” were designed as satires, Professor Wi1son has made clear for the first time, in my opinion, Poe's real intent — he wrote his tale not in imitation, but as “a specific and obvious burlesque” of Disraeli's scene.(69) Professor Wilson points out that “King Pest” not only heightens the grotesquerie of Disraeli's incident, but travesties the moral in that it was labeled by Poe, “A Tale Containing an Allegory.”(70) In [page 312:] my opinion, there can be no question, in the case of “King Pest” of borrowing or mere imitation. Since Poe intended that his original should be recognized, he borrowed details and language freely.
In Disraeli's novel,(71) Vivian Grey and his servant, Essper George, came by chance, after a day's wandering to a strange castle. Vivian alas conducted into a curious apartment where around a banquet table were seated eight “very singular-looking persons,” whose oddity of dress and monstrous exaggeration of features amazed him. The bizarre crew welcomed him ceremoniously and forced him to take part in the consumption of a series of overpowering drinks. As they drank, the peculiar animal-like features of each of the company became more pronounced. At last Vivian protested with great politeness that he needed food to sustain him for the ardors of drinking. Very courteously the Grand Duke of Johannesberger explained the peculiar significance of their convocation.
Know ye that we are children of the Rhine, the conservators of his flavors, profound in the learning of his exquisite aroma, and deep students of the mysteries of his inexplicable näre ... to feed after midnight, to destroy the power of catching the delicate flavour, to annihilate the faculty of detecting the undefinable näre, is heresy, most rank and damnable heresy! [page 313:]
After almost impossible feats of drinking, Vivian was compelled to protest violently that he could conform no further to their requirements. Shouts of treason arose, and his punishment was fixed as death by drowning in a new butt of Moselle. Vivian threw the company into confusion by his energetic resistance, escaped the banquet hall, and led his seven pursuers on a ludicrous chase around an octagonal chamber until he was rescued by a clever ruse of Essper George's.
“King Pest” is a tale of the adventures of two sailors in London. Fleeing from an unpaid bill in a tavern, they chanced into a deserted district banned by plague. Suddenly they stumbled into an abandoned undertaker's shop, now converted into a drinking hall for a company of six “seated upon coffin tressels.” Each of the group was distinguished by a “monopoly of some particular portion of physiognomy,” — an exaggerated forehead, mouth, nose, cheeks, ears, eyes. They received the roistering sailors courteously into their company, their leader introduced his companions and explained the solemnity of their meeting.
We are here this night, prepared by deep research and accurate investigation, to examine, analyze, and thoroughly determine the indefinable spirit — [page 314:] the incomprehensible qualities and nare(72) of those inestimable treasures of the palate, the wines, ales, and liquers of this goodly metropolis: by so doing to advance not more our own desks than the true welfare of that unearthly sovereign whose reign is over us all, whose dominions are unlimited, and whose name is “Death.”
The president concluded that Hugh and Legs should, for their unhallowed intrusion, be mulcted each in a gallon of Black Strap, imbibed on bended knees and properly dedicated to the prosperity of King Pest's kingdom. Legs protested with due gravity his utter inability to “stow away” the “cargo” suggested; Hugh offered to perform double service for himself and his mate in drinking, but he refused to do homage to His Majesty. As shouts of treason filled the room, they were sentenced to be drowned as rebels in “yon hogshead of October beer.” Hugh was thrust into the beer, but Legs seized the skeleton chandelier and defended himself so staunchly that he rescued his mate and routed the company. [page 315:]
Professor Wilson has suggested that “King Pest” was designed for telling by the stout gentleman of the “Folio Club” who admired Sir Walter Scott(73) and that it was perhaps meant to satirize the Scott method of beginning his novels by introducing unnamed characters, describing them, and then revealing their identity. Since the chapter in Vivian Grey in which the adventure in the Castle of Johannesberger is narrated opens in the sane fashion, Disraeli himself may have been consciously parodying Scott.
In connection with this tale it seems to me that another element in Poe's, burlesque intent is implied: he was perhaps not only bent upon travestying a literary style but also a theory underlying a literary style. It has not been sufficiently recognized, I believe, that when Poe cleverly enumerated the four leading types of stories in demand in 1833,(74) he was merely following the popular fashion of classifying literary types. Reviewers wrote glibly of novels of horror, fashionable novels, historical romances, novels of sentiment. In his preface to his German Romance of [page 316:] 1827, Carlyle classified German tales in six definite groups. Horatio Smith, as we have seen, placed novels in several clearly defined categories.(75) In 1830 a fairly new class of writing had been recognized in the grotesque, a manner especially popular in France.(76) It was generally recognized that Disraeli had chosen this mode of writing for his early manner, and his work was hailed by reviewers as a specimen of the legitimate grotesque. His Vivian Grey was in itself a travesty, an exaggeration, of the fashionable novel of his time.(77) [page 317:] Poe recognized perfectly that the exaggerations, the wild escapades, the cynicism of the elegant young hero of Disraeli's novel were not done with seriousness. He must have believed, nevertheless, that the novelist, in accordance with the current conception of the province of the grotesque, was indulging in that style for the definite purpose of enforcing a moral. Consequently, when Poe wrote “King Pest,” he was satirizing, I think, the theory back of grotesquerie — that it is legitimate only when it is done for a purpose. Undoubtedly, too, he had been reading some of the current criticisms of Disraeli's novel, for one of the passages interpolated in the Messenger version of “Loss of Breath and later excised by revision, contains a succession of critical ideas which flashed through the mind of the dying hero on the gallows — [page 318:] falsities in the Pelham novels — beauties in Vivian Grey, more than beauties in Vivian Grey — profoundity in Vivian Grey — genius in Vivian Grey — every thing in Vivien Grey.”(78) Reviews of Disrael's work abounded in similar phrases; Poe recognized the extravagance of such critical comments and put them into his “Loss of Breath” as absurdities.
Upon the appearance of the Continuation of Vivian Grey, an English reviewer stated definitely the principles and the limits of the grotesque.(79) He referred especially to Disraeli's description of the drinking carousal in the castle of Johannesberger as an example, of well-executed grotesquerie. He wrote:
There is an essential difference between the Grotesque and the Humorous. That which is grotesque is generally very humorous, but that which is very humorous is very often not grotesque. The grotesque is a deviation from Nature, permitted in order that an effect may be produced, which cannot be produced by adhering to Nature. This deviation is not allowed, unless its result be excellence. If its result be excellence, that is to say, if excellence be produced by a deviation from Nature, which could not have been produced by an adherence to Nature, then the grotesque becomes classical. It follows, therefore, that the grotesque is not classical where excellence is not produced, or where excellence is produced which might have been effected in a natural manner, for in this latter [page 319:] case the grotesque is unnecessary. In having recourse, therefore, to the grotesque, the artist must have an object. If he paint a boy's head appearing out of a lily, or write of a garden where the flowers are birds, however lively these objects may be depicted or described, these deviations from Nature, producing no sensible result, must be treated as monstrosities. If, however, the artist conjures up a number of fantastic forms, whose purpose is the temptation of saint, or the torture of a sinner, these combinations, however unnatural, are not monstrosities, ... the result of these inventions on our minds is instruction; since we hereby become sensible of the terrors of a guilty mind, or the temptations to which an innocent one is subject, ... all of which impressions could not have been conveyed to our understandings by a mere adherence ... to the established order which we style nature.
It is, of course, always a matter of speculation as to whether Poe read any specific article or review on Disraeli. He almost certainly read pronouncements on the purpose of the grotesque, for he could hardly have missed them in the English journals. If he read the particular passage quoted, I can very veil imagine that a “classical grotesque” must have struck him as an utter, absurdity. Assuredly when he exaggerated every possible grotesque element in Disraeli's incident, he was clearly aware that he was creating a monstrosity, without “instruction,” without purpose, other than that of out — grotesquing the grotesque. [page 320:]
In the three burlesques just discussed Poe apparently selected a specific author or novel as the butt of his satire. In still another three he tempted to travesty the diverse and extended contents of a popular British periodical. “Loss of Breath,” a satire on the “extravagencies” of Blackwood's, was published first as “A Decided Loss” without any indication of its connection with Blackwood's. In the Southern Literary Messenger it appeared as “Loss of Breath” With the tag, “À la Blackwood.” in later versions this was emended to “A Tale neither in nor out of Blackwood.” The Messenger version contained a long passage detailing the sensations experienced by Mr. Lack O’Breath on the gallows, in the hearse, and in the tomb. This may have been added to make the satire more obvious, or the whole story may have been revised with the express purpose of satirizing the British magazine, an intent which it may yet have had in its original form as “A Decided Loss.” Whatever was the first intent of the story, it came eventually to be meant as a direct hit at Blackwood's and was so acknowledged by Poe both in his tag and in a letter to J. P. Kennedy.(80) Miss Alterton has called [page 321:] attention to the resemblance between Poe's general “buried alive” material and an early tale in Blackwood's, “The Buried Alive,” but she has not connected it specifically with certain passages in the Messenger version of “Loss of Breath.” It seems obvious to me that Poe was deliberately travestying “The Buried. Alive” and meant that those who remembered the old story should recognize what he was doing.(81) The victim in the Blackwood's story had fallen in a cataleptic trance and had been mistaken for dead. He was never unconscious, though he was incapable of movement or speech. He heard those about his bed say, “He is Dead,” knew that his eyes had been closed, and realized that the undertakers were busy about their tasks. He was conscious of being placed in a coffin, of being transported to the cemetery and buried. He soliloquized on the horrors of death, shuddered at the thought of the worms, and was disinterred and aroused from his trance by a galvanic battery in the hands of resurrectionists. Some extracts from the story will indicate that Poe not only followed its general idea, but many of the details. [page 322:]
When all had any peculiar interest in me, had for a short time looked at me in the coffin, I heard them retire; and the undertaker's men placed the lid on the coffin, and screwed it down. There were two of them present — one had occasion to go away before the task was done. I heard the fellow who was left begin to whistle as he turned the screw nails; but he checked himself, and completed the work in silence.
I was left alone, — every one shunned the room. — I knew, however, that I was not yet buried; and though darkened and motionless, I still had hope; but this was not permitted long. The day of interment arrived — I heard and felt it placed in the hearse. — There was a crowd of people around; some of them spoke sorrowfully of me. The hearse began to move — I knew that it carried me to the grave. It halted, and the coffin was taken out — I felt myself carried on shoulders of men, by the inequality of the motion — A pause ensued — I heard the cords of the coffin moved — I felt It swing as dependent by them — It was lowered, and rested on the bottom of the grave — The cords were dropped upon the lid — I heard them fall. Dreadful was the effort I then made to exert the power of action, but my whole frame was immoveable.
Soon after, a few handfuls of earth were thrown upon the coffin — Then there was another pause after which the shovel was employed, and the sound of the rattling mould, as it covered me, was far more tremendous than thunder.
I had no means of knowing the lapse of time; and the silence continued. This is death, thought I, and I am doomed to remain till the resurrection. Presently the body will fall into corruption, and the epicurean worm, that is only satisfied with the flesh of man, will come to partake of the banquet that has been prepared for him with so much solicitude and care. In the contemplation of this hideous thought, I heard a low and under sound in the earth over me, and I fancied that the worm and the reptiles of death were coming — that the mole and the rat of the grave would soon be upon me. [page 323:]
Presently he was taken out of the grave and handled like a clod; he was in the hands of resurrectionists who bore him to the anatomical theater to be dissected.
Previous to beginning the dissection, he proposed to try on me some galvanic experiment, and an apparatus was arranged for that purpose. The first shock vibrated through all my nerves: they rung and jangled like the strings of a harp. The students expressed their admiration at the convulsive effect. The second shock threw my eyes open, and the first person I saw was the doctor who had attended me. But still I was as dead: I could, however, discover among the students the faces of many with who I was familiar —
The demonstrator then stuck the knife in his bosom. He felt a dreadful crackling, convulsive shuddering, and the ice of death was broken up and his trance ended.
Poe had already used the incident of the galvanic battery in “A Decided Loss,” in which a physician bought the hero's body, after he was hanged as a mail robber, for dissection. Now he added to the category of sensations of Lack O’Breath by travestying and intensifying some of those described in “The Buried Alive.” Lack O’Breath had, from the moment that the rope was loosened from his neck, had a “dim consciousness” of his situation. He experienced a strange sensation of magnitude and buoyancy. [page 324:]
The night came — and with it a new crowd of horrors. The consciousness of my approaching interment, began to assume new distinctness, and consistency — yet never for one moment did I imagine that I was actually dead.
“This then,” I mentally speculated — “this darkness which is palpable, and oppresses me with a sense of suffocation — this — this — is — indeed death. This is death — this is death the terrible — death the holy. This is the death undergone by Regulus — and equally by Seneca. Thus — thus, too, shall I always remain — always — always remain. ...
I have before mentioned that my eyes were but imperfectly closed — yet I could not move them in any degree, those objects alone which crossed the direct line of vision were within the sphere of my comprehension. ... First came the coffin which they placed quietly by my side. Then the undertaker with attendants and a screw-driver. Then a stout man whom I could distinctly see and who took hold of my feet — while one whom I could only feel lifted me by the head and shoulders.
Together they placed me in the coffin, and drawing the shroud up over my face proceeded to fasten down the lid. One of the screws, missing its proper direction, was screwed by the carelessness of the undertaker deep-deep — down into my shoulder. A convulsive shudder ran through my frame. With what horror, with what sickening of heart did. I reflect that one minute sooner a similar manifestation of life would, in all probability, have prevented my inhumanation. But alas! it was now too late, and hope died away in my bosom as I felt myself lifted upon the shoulders of men — carried down the stairs — and thrust within the hearse.
Lack O’Breath became acutely aware of his sensations as he journeyed toward the cemetery in the hearse; he heard the rustling of the death-plumes, sensed the windings of the road, distinguished the acid odor of [page 325:] the screws in the coffin, and could detect the texture of the shroud against his face.
It will be seen that Poe followed his Blackwood's predecessor: he mentioned the lifting into the coffin, the screwing down of the lid, the journey in the hearse, the feeling of being carried on the shoulders of men, and the soliloquy on death and its permanence. He did not follow the exact order of presenting these details because he adapted then to the outlines of his own story. And thus he made his story reveal perfectly by its accumulation of impossible incidents and its absurdly serious analysis of emotional reactions, by its whole atmosphere of utter nonsense, just how cleverly he had seen through the falsities of a certain type of current stories.
In connection with “Loss of Breath,” one should also examine Poe's latter satires on the same magazine, “How to Write a Blackwood Article” and its pendant, “A Predicament.” These two pieces have generally been considered by Poe's critics as almost unworthy of comment, as the “mere dross,” as he would have called it, of his magazine writing. A close reading of them, however, indicates that gave a great deal of care to their composition; obviously they represent, [page 326:] in comparison with some of his more subtle tales, his honest attempt to follow Paulding's injunction about lowering himself to the 4ordinary comprehension of the generality of readers.” “Loss of Breath: is sufficiently bold in its travesty and trivial enough, but, in comparison with these two later satires upon the same theme, it is subtlety itself.
In the first of the two, Signora Psyche Zenobia said that “the chief merit of the Magazine B1ackwood's lies in its miscellaneous articles; and the best of these come under the head of that Dr. Moneypenny calls the bizarreries ... and that everybody else calls the intensities.”(82) Dr. Moneypenny cited as models for study by Miss Zenobia, “The Dead [page 327:] Alive!(83) a capital thing! — the record of a gentleman's sensations when entombed before the breath we out of his body”; “‘Confessions of an Opium-eater’ plenty of fire and fury, and a good spicing of the decidedly unintelligible”; “‘The Involuntary Experimentalist,’ all about a gentleman who got baked in an oven, and came out alive and well, although certainly done to a turn”; “‘The Diary of a Late Physician’ where the merit lay in good rant and indifferent Greek”; and “‘The Man in the Bell,’ the history of a young person who goes to sleep under the clapper of a bell, and is awakened by its tolling for a funeral ... he gives a record of his sensations.” Dr. Moneypenny urged with emphasis: [page 328:]
Sensations are the great things after all. Should you ever be drowned or hung, be sure and make a note of your sensations — they will be worth to you ten guineas a sheet. If you wish to write forcibly, Miss Zenobia, pay minute attention to the sensations.
He described for his disciple the various “tones” to be employed in her writing:
The tone metaphysical is always a good one. If you know any big words this is your chance for them. ... When you let slip anything a little too absurd, you need not be at the trouble of scratching it out, but just add a footnote and say that you are indebted for the above profound observation to the Kritik der reinen Venunft or to the Metaphisiche Anfansgrunde der Naturwissenschaft. This will look erudite and — and — and frank. ... The most important portion, in fact, the soul of the whole business, is yet to be attended to — I allude to the filling up. It is not supposed that a lady or a gentleman either has been leading the life of a bookworm. And yet above all things it I necessary that your article have an air of erudition, or at least af.?Ore evidence of extensive general reading.
Then he proceeded to show Miss Zenobia how she could garner from various handy volumes “a host of little scraps of either learning or bel-esprit-ism” with which to sprinkle her production.
“A Predicament” presents Miss Zenobia's attempt to follow her mentor's directions in writing a Blackwood's article. Accompanied by her negro [page 329:] Pompey(84) and her poodle Diana, she set out in search of adventure. In a grotesquely distorted version of Dr. Moneypenny's suggested phraseology she described the slight experiences and her slighter sensations on the walk. Her ramblings culminated in an utterly impossible situation, where she lost Diana, Pompey, and her head in the tall steeple of a Gothic Cathedral.
The resemblance between these two sketches and Gautier's “Daniel Jovard” and “A Bowl of Punch” is obvious. We cannot know whether Poe had seen the volume of French tales, Les Jeunes France, published in 1833, or whether this similarity is accidental. Certainly he has written plainly enough in those burlesques to satisfy Paulding and Harper's and the ordinary intelligence of the time. But underneath the surface satire on Blackwood's lies a less obvious one, I think. Like Horace Smith and Gautier, he in his [page 330:] ridicule has included himself. Poe was unmistakably retracing his own steps in examining the contents of a popular magazine and in determining for his own purposes the “incidents,” “tone,” and “filling up” that would make his stories take with the public. And although he so clearly recognized the artificiality, the manner as patently stereotyped for popular consumption, he did not hesitate upon occasion to use it consciously, and it marked, unconsciously perhaps, some of his serious and most artistic productions.
Of Poe's early stories none has furnished more food for speculation and discussion than “Lionizing.”(85) [page 331:] He alluded to it in a letter to Editor White of the Messenger shortly after its publication as having been the subject of many contradictory opinions,(86) and explained in his much-quoted letter to J. P. Kennedy that it was intended to satirize the current rage for lions and the facility of becoming one.” It has generally been accepted that “Lionizing” is the tale referred to by J. K. Paulding as the “capital quiz on Willis”; indeed J. A. Harrison bracketed that title after the phrase in Paulding's letter.(87)
Another critic, however, has recently offered the opinions that Poe's “The Duc de L’Omelette” is in reality the “quiz on. Willis.”(88) It may be that Poe intended “Lionizing” as a satire on Willis, who had been writing for the New York Mirror about his association with English celebrities. I am of opinion, however, that he never intended that his attack be limited to one lion. Nothing becomes more obvious from a reading of the magazines of the period than [page 332:] that lionizing was the rage and that many celebrities gloried in being dubbed lions. Every literary figure of any repute was accused of presuming to lionship. Of Poe's tale Vernon L. Sparhawk, temporarily the editor of the Southern Literary Messenger, wrote:
“Lionzing,” by Mr. Poe, it an inimitable piece of wit and satire! and the man must be far gone in a melancholic humor, whose risibility is not moved by this tale. ... Although the scene of the story in laid in the foreign city of “Fum Fudge” the disposition which it satirizes is often displayed in the cities of this country even in our own community; and will probably still continue to exist, unless Mrs. Butler's Journal should have disgusted the fashionable world with Lions.(89)
I am inclined to believe that Poe wrote his tale as a general satire upon the current craze; then it was taken as a hit at Willis, if it were so commonly considered in his lifetime, he was perhaps flattered by its being so plainly understood, and allowed that interpretation to stand. It is common knowledge that Poe frequently adopted the opinions of others and their interpretations of his intentions as his own. Certainly he would have been too tactful to point out to a person whose good opinion and influence he valued as highly as he did, Paulding's that he had misinterpreted the point of the story. Furthermore, there is [page 333:] no record of Poe's ever having admitted that the tale was a “quiz on Willis.” For that reason, it is wisest, I believe, to view it in precisely the light in which he described it — as a satire of “the rage for lions and the facility of becoming one.”
Professor Wooberry first called attention to the fact that Poe had copied in “Lionizing” the style and conception of Bulwer's “Too Handsome for Anything.”(90) The resemblance is unmistakable in Bulwer's tale Mr. Ferdinand Fitzroy was too handsome for success: he was the subject of comment and criticism from childhood, just as was Robert in “Lionizing.” He was the- adoration of all the young ladies at Almack's, but since he was without inheritance, he needs must make a rich marriage. He accordingly paid court to Miss Helen Convolvulus with a harelip and a great fortune. His uncle cut him off in his will because he was too handsome for a banker, and Miss Convolvulus thereupon decided that he was much too handsome for a husband. [page 334:] Even the bailiff who carried Ferdinand off to a debtor's prison sighed because “it was a pity to take so handsome a gentleman to prison.” Both Bulwer's and Poe's tales have as a central character a young man who possessed a trait that set him apart; Ferdinand Fitzroy had extraordinary good looks, and Robert in “Lionizing” was the owner of an extraordinary nose. Both received, marked attention from their parents; both were sent out to make their, fortunes by means of their distinctive traits; both become lions and the subject of constant comment; both met disastrous and unexpected consequences at the end of the story.
The resemblance in subject-matter would not be so apparent, however, if the styles of the stories were not identical. They are told with a fine flourish of raillery and exaggeration, the narrative progressing chiefly by conversation and comment. This can be best seen by comparing passages from the two. Bulwer wrote:
“He is a d — ass!” said Cornet Horsephiz, who was very ugly; “a horrid puppy!” said Lieutenant St. Squintem, who was still uglier; “If he does not ride better, he will disgrace the regiment!” said Captain Rivalhate who was very good-looking; “If he does not ride better, we will cut him!” said Colonel Everdrill, who was a wonderful martinent; “I say, Mr. Bumpemwell (to the riding master) make that youngster ride lest like a miller's sack.” [page 335:]
“Pooh, sir, he will never ride better.”
“And why the d—l will he not?”
“Bless you, Colonel, he is a great deal too handsome for a cavalry officer!’
“True!” said Cornet Horsephiz.
“Very true!” said Lieutenant St. Squintem.
“We must cut him!” said the Colonel and Mr. Ferdinand Fitzroy was accordingly cut.
Our hero was a youth of susceptibility, — he quitted the — regiment, challenged the Colonel. The Colonel was killed.(91)
and Poe mimicked thus:
So I gave it a pull or two and found myself at Almack's. The rooms were crowded to suffocation.
‘He is coming! Said somebody on the staircase.
‘He is coming!’ said somebody farther up.
‘He is coming!’ said somebody farther still.
‘He is come!’ — said the Duchess — ‘he is come, the little love!’ And she caught me by both hands, and looked me in the nose.
‘Ah joli’ — said Mademoiselle Pas Seul.
‘Dios guarda!’ — said Don Stiletto.
‘Diavolo!’ — said Count Capricornuto.
“Tousana Teufel!’ — said Baron Bludenuff.
‘Tweedle-dee-tweedle-dee-tweedle dum!’ — said the orchestra.
‘Ah joll! Dios guarda! — Diavolo! — and Tousand Teufel!’ repeated Mademoiselle Pas Seul, Don Stiletto, Count Capricornuto, and Baron Bludenuff. It was too had — it was not to be borne. I grew angry.
‘Sir!’ — said I to the baron — ‘you are a baboon!’
‘Sir!’ replied he, after a pause, — ‘Donner and Blitzen!’
This was sufficient. The next morning I shot off his nose at six o’clock, and then called upon my friends.(92) [page 336:]
Poe made his “Lionizing,” however, a great deal more than a mere reflection of Bulwer's tale. One wonders, of course, what chance led him to hit upon the device of using a prodigious nose as the trait which brought distinction to his lion. In the same issue of the Messenger in which Poe's tale was printed appeared a sketch contributed by one “Democritus, Jr’.” and called “A Prodigious Nose.”(93) It has been suggested that Poe might have seen this article before writing his own story,(94) — but this seems to be a far-fetched explanation of the genesis of the idea. Poe was not in Richmond in the spring of 1835, nor was he connected with the Messenger other than as a contributor until, three months after “Lionizing” appeared. Moreover, he himself declared “Lionizing” to [page 337:] be one of the ‘Tales of the Folio Club,”(95) presumably in the hands of the prospective publishers in 1834.
At any rate, “Nosology” was very much in the air when Poe wrote his story. The idea was as old as the celebrity of Cyrano de Bergerac, the French poet of the great nose, who had sought to establish, in his Trip to the Moon, the principle of everybody's having a big nose by portraying a civilization where merit should be measured by the length of the nose.
Among Horatio Smith's comic sketches in Gaities and Gravities is a farcical essay, “On Noses.”(96) He claims that big noses have been popular since the time of the Greeks and Ovid Naso. If one has a big nose, he is not forced to take cognizance of what goes on under it. The bigger the nose, the better are the chances of clearing the brain of extravagant ideas, for “the nose is the emunctory of the brain, and when its functions are impeded [by snuff-taking], the whole system becomes deranged.” [page 338:]
A sketch called “The Man with the Nose,” by “A Modern Pythagorean,” in Blackwood's August, 1828,(97) had as its central idea the amazement and awe created in a tavern group by the appearance of a man with a remarkable nose.
... such a snout had never before been presented to the eyes of those worthy characters, nor perhaps of anybody else. It was neither an aquiline nose, nor a Roman nose, nor a snub nose, — nor, in truth, could it be reduced to any classification whatever. It was chiefly characterized by its extreme length and redness, and was comparable to nothing but to the lugubrious noses which are sold for masquerades by the perfumers. ...
“But such a nose!” exclaimed the town clerk, half-breathless with wonder.
“Yes, my nose is certainly somewhat singular in its dimensions, I confess,” replied the proprietor of this remarkable feature; “but, yet, my friend, you must know, — you must know, — you must know, that it — that it is — that it is still — “
”That it is still what?” said the clerk, his curiosity excited to the highest pitch.
“That it is still a nose,” concluded the other, putting the pipi once more into his mouth, and smoking with the most imperturbable gravity.
The same author later contributed another study of an extraordinary nose to Fraser's.(98) A traveling companion related to him, he said, a story which Coleridge would could [[call]] a “Psychological curiosity.” [page 339:] In Edinburgh he had supped with a literary friend. Before going into dinner, they had examined a copy of Cruinkshank's “Punch and Judy.” At the dinner table the guest had found himself beside his host's cousin, Miss Snooks. He was astounded by the size of her nose, which jutted out like a promontory, had a hump like a dromedary, and yet was in formation a Roman nose. He was unable to see his neighbor on the other side of Miss Snooks because of her nose. When she drank wine, her nose tipped over the farther edge of the glass. He was fascinated, but realized that his stare would never do. She spoke of Cruinkshank; suddenly she was Judy. it was “not a lunar or solar but a nasal eclipse.” His fascination grew into “admiration and —.” Presumably he married Miss Snooks.
Macnish wrote still another “nosology” sketch for Fraser's which he called. “The Victims of Susceptibility,” a humorous story of insult and peace-making over a prodigious nose.(99) He appears to have been fascinated by studies of exaggerated physical characteristics, a device common in the fiction of the time.(100) All Macnish's stories open with elaborate [page 340:] details of physical appearance, and several of them have no point other than portraying the extraordinary effect produced by a monstrous feature. “The Man Mountain” is a tale of a man of such enormous size that he inspired the narrator with a feeling of unaccountable terror. “The Man with the Mouth” depicts another narrator as completely mesmerized by his concentration upon the singular feature of a stranger's huge mouth. “The Red Man” in centered around a mysterious figure who comes suddenly into a tavern room clad completely in red.(101)
Besides being indebted to Bulwer for the manner of his tale and to Macnish and others for the idea of capitalizing on a prodigious nose, Poe may have owed to Lady Morgan the scene at the dinner of “his Royal Highness of Touch-me-not.” Lady Morgan was notorious, apparently, for her own lion-seeking propensities and for her desire to be considered a lion. Her France in 1829-30 is merely a succession of lion stories and was ridiculed, as we have seen, as such.(102) The following [page 341:] extract will indicate her manner of bringing in with an air of nonchalance the names of celebrities. She exclaimed to an acquaintance in Paris:
“What, not know the son of the brilliant Countess de Boufflers, and son-in-law to the Chevalier par excellence?”
What names! What associations! How was it possible that with such a descent, and such alliances that the Count de Sabran should not be “more royal than the king, and more pious than the pope!” Still as we conversed, I thought more than once of the ancient device and motto of house, Nolite irritare leonem, and I took the hint.(103)
There is a passage, however, in Lady Morgan's France which too closely parallels Poe's central situation in “Lionizing” to be overlooked in a consideration of possible influences upon his work. In the chapter, “Mornings at Paris,” described an interesting group of people who chanced to gather in her salon.(104)
I happened one night to mention at General Lafayette's that I should remain at home on the following morning, to sit for a medal to David and the information brought us a numerous circle of morning visitors; others drooped in by chance, and some by appointment. From twelve till four, my little salon was a congress composed of the representatives of every vocation of arts, letters, science, bon ton, and philosophy, in which, as in the Italian opera-boxes of Milan and Naples, the [page 342:] comers and goers succeeded each other, as the narrow limits of the space required that the earliest visitor should make room for the last arrival. There was Pigault le Brun, the father of the revolutionary novelists, whose wit and humor can never be out of fashion, however it may fare with the forms in which he embodied them. There was Mignet, the historian of his age, and belonging to his age — honest, fearless, and giving to his narrative the demonstration of mathematics and the brevity of epigrams, in a style which is in itself philosophy. There was Mérimée, like his own original and delightful dramas, simple, natural, and animated. The brilliant Beyle, whose travels made me long to know the author, and those conversation is still more lively and original than his books; Dumas, the author of “Henry the Third,” one of the most successful adventurers in the rich and new mine of romanticism; and the spiritual and interesting Robert Lefevre, and De Montrol, says more clever things even then he writes; who has composed a life of Clement Marot, in an episode, that is in prose what its subject was in poetry; and the Commandeur Gazzera, of the order of Yalta, the author of many ingenious works, — one among the oldest of our continental friends, and the most hospitable of hosts; and there was an accomplished young diplomatist from the United States, Mr. B——, and Monsieur Miguel de la Barra, the secretary of legation from Chili; and Don Louis d’Arandada, an attaché of the Portuguese embassy; and Colonel Tolstoy from Russia; and the Prince and Princess of Salmes, from their feudal castle on the Rhine; and the Count and Countess de Rochefoucauld Liancourt — (the principles of the one and the grace of the other, like their illustrious name, beyond all change of circumstance or touch of time); and the honest and gifted brothers Ugoni; and “son obligéance, “Monsieur Julien de Paris; and the two first amateurs of the musical world from whence they came, signor Barberi and Signor Dottore Benate, with many others, who came in and went out successively, — each leaving behind, him the votive offering of an agreeable impression. [page 343:]
Poe assembled just such a group of “all Lions and Recherchés” at his dinner: a Grand Turk from Stamboul, Sir Positive Paradox, a writer on Ethics, Theologos Theology, Fricassé from the Rocher de Cancale; Signor Tintontintino from Florence, the great geologist Feltspar, the President of the Fum-Fudge University, Delphinus Polyglot, a modern Platonist, a human-perfectability man.(105) He introduced each with the formula, “There was,” followed by a description of the individual's conversation and claim to fame, and ended the catalogue of celebrities with,
There was myself. I talked of Pictorius, Del Rio, Alexander Ross, Minutius Felix, Bartholinus, Sir Thos. Browne, and the Science of Noses.
Perhaps it is going a bit far in the direction of imagination to suggest that Lady Morgan's overwhelming list of celebrities touched Poe's sense of the ludicrous and that he was “taking if off” with a rival group. But the cynical reviewer who satirized her France in Fraser's found this seems worthy of ridiculing comment: [page 344:]
The chapter styled “Mornings at Paris,” is at once calculated to excite astonishment and delight. It is scarcely possible not to be dazzled by the host of illustrious persons that assembled around you, and still less can he avoid feeling the utmost wonder in which you surpassed them all and each, in his own particular art, science, study, or pursuit. ...
Thus seated in your little salon, with David executing your bust, and Miss Clarke ... singing at the piano, what monarch in the universe might not envy you, as Pigault Le Brun, and Mignet, and Merimee, and Bayle, and Dumas, and Lefevro, and De Montrol, and Le Commandeur Gazzara, and Mr. B——, and Miguel de la Barra, an Don L. D’Arandada, and Colonel Tolstoy, from Russia, and the Prince and Princess of Salmes, from the Rhine, and the Count and Countess de Rochefoucauld-Liancourt and the brothers Ugoni, and son obligeance Monsieur Julian, and Signor Barberi, and Signor Dottore Benati, with many others bowed before you; for what is the unwilling homage rendered to power, compared to that homage paid to genius, which alike honours those who give, and the sublime spirit which receives.(106)
Like this suggestion of Poe's possible design to satirize Lady Morgan slightly in “Lionizing,” many of the similarities pointed out in the preceding discussion between Poe's work and that of his contemporaries may appear more illusory than real. There has been no intention, however, of implying that Poe had read, in each case, the article or tale mentioned. My purpose has been to give a somewhat detailed view [page 345:] of the manner and tone of the burlesques of the period, of the warfare of wit and raillery which was waged constantly in the magazine literature of that time. If we understand that tone and remember the eagerness of a young tale-writer avid for popular favor, then we may catch a better view, in his burlesques and early critiques, of a youthful Poe, more colloquial and more high-spirited than he ever appeared again.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 282:]
38. “How to Write a Blackwood Article” and “The Predicament” were not published until November, 1830, but their connection with “Loss of Breath” and, the mood which inspired that tale is sufficiently obvious to make the grouping natural.
39. Professor Wilson suggests these last two tales as belonging to the “Tales of the Folio Club.” The former, he believes, is the only one of Poe's stories which qualifies as a burlesque of Lady Morgan's work, admired by “Mr. Rouge-et-Noir” of the “Folio Club,” and “Mystification” he thinks was certainly told by “Mr. Horrible Dictu of the white eyelashes, who had graduated from the University of Gottingen.” “Mystification” was published in June, 1837, and “The Little Frenchman” did not appear, so far as we know, until the volume of 1840. Mr. K. L. Daughrity has suggested that The Duc de L’Omelette” would serve equally well as a satire of Lady Morgan, since she was as well known for her reckless use of French words and phrases as for her Irish dialect. See Mr. Daughrity's article, “Poe's Quiz on Willis,” Amer. Lit., VI (March, 1934), 72ff.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 283:]
40. Wilson, “The Devil Was in It,” loc. cit., 216.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 284:]
41. Published originally in The New Monthly, XXII (April, 1828), 341ff.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 285:]
42. A Midsummer Medley for 1830, London, 1830, 115.
43. Ibid., 115ff.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 287:]
44. Professor Wilson as first to point out that Poe's tale was meant as a satire of Zillah, loc. cit., 216.
45. Second edition, London, 1828, in three volumes.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 289:]
46. “Poe's Tale of Jerusalem and The Talmud,” The American Book Collector, Feb., 1935, 56f. (Editor: Charles F. Heartman, Metuchen, N. J.)
47. I place its composition after “A Tale of Jerusalem” because Smith's work which seems to have inspired it did not appear until 1832, the year of the publication of “A Tale.” It is possible that Poe had dealt with the career of Antiochus Epiphanes in story form as early as his college days and that he later revised the early sketch, perhaps in 1834 or 1835.
48. Moore and Byron had probably established the vogue for the Eastern tale by their metrical romances. There are, however, many evidences of a renewed interest in the Near East around 1830. In the New Monthly alone, I have noted the following items: a review of George Croly's Salathiel, a novel of Jerusalem, Oct., 1828; a review of J. S. Buckingham's Travels in Palestine and Travels in Mesopotamia, Nov., 1827; a review of T. S. Hughes's Travels in Greece and Albania, Sept., 1830; a series or papers in 1827 and 1828 called Letters from the Levant; a similar series called Recollections of Turkey in 1827; an article entitled “Bethlehem and the Bedouins” in 1830; and numerous articles on archeology from 1827-1830. The reviewer of Salathiel commented upon the popularity of materials dealing with Jerusalem and its vicinity.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 290:]
49. Sept. 11, 1835. Letters, 18. Poe wrote that he could not understand why Carey and Lea had printed his already published tale, “MS. Found in a Bottle,” in The Gift instead of one of his unprinted tales, “Siope” or “Epimanes.” He explained that he himself had told Carey that the story selected by Miss Leslie for The Gift had already been published and that after his return to Baltimore he had written Carey to the same effect and had sent him “Epimanes” as a substitute. Just when Poe had this interview with Carey in Philadelphia and returned to Baltimore we do not know. It would appear to have been subsequent to December 22, 1834, as that is the date of Kennedy's letter (Woodberry, I, 105) informing Poe of the sale of “MS. Found in a Bottle” to Miss Leslie. Since this story was selected from the manuscript submitted a “Tales of the Folio Club” to Carey and Lea, it is not likely that “Epimanes” was included among the Folio tales, for Poe could not have sent it if Carey already had in his possession one copy. This fact may indicate that “Epimanes” was not written at the time the first group of Folio tales were sent to the publishers. Since he does not refer to sending “Siope,” it is to be presumed that it was a part of the original manuscript. As previously pointed out, there are other definite indications that “Siope” was one of the Folio tales.
50. London, 1832, in three volumes.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 292:]
51. I, 4.
52. “Olaf and Brynhilda,” II, 46.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 295:]
53. Ibid., II, 276.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 297:]
54. Ibid., II, 179.
55. Ibid., II, 207.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 299:]
56. It is possible that Poe had some sly motive of suggesting in connection with the capital of Antiochus Epiphanes, who was particularly infamous according to early historians for his public sexual orgies, the phallic symbolism of the pillar which represented to the Persians, or as Poe put it to the Syrians, the god of the Sun. It might be noted in defense of this suggestion that Poe's first version of the companion satire, “A Tale of Jerusalem,” showed unmistakable traces of a grossness otherwise totally absent from Poe's work. Something in Poe's early reading may have been responsible for his association of grossness with the Jews or with Oriental tales. I find no traces of this characteristic in the works of Smith, however. Upon two occasions at least Poe made a deliberate exception, in discussing the merits and purpose of his tales, of “one or two of the articles ... conceived and executed in the purest spirit of extravaganza” (See his Preface to Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque and letters to Griswold and Cooke previously cited, Letters, 228 and 266). This exclusion of certain tales may have had reference to the two stories in question, for it would have been in keeping with Poe's customarily scrupulous taste in such matters for him to have felt contempt, or at least regret, for his early lapses such lapses existed. It may also be of significance that Poe delayed the publication of these two tales in the Messenger until the last to issues in which his original work appeared, when, perhaps, he had exhausted his supply of stories.
[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 300:]
57. Rees's Cyclopaedia (First American edition, Philadelphia, volume XVIII) contains an elaborate account of the notorious and debauched, Roman emperor. Heliogabalus, so-called because he had been high priest of the sun in Phoenicia, “brought with him an image of the deity whose priest he had been, to Rome, and placed it, which was only a block of stone, in a temple on Mt. Palatine and had it made the center of all that was sacred.” During his reign he displayed such savage ferocity and such personal degradation in his efforts to satisfy his lusts that he was finally murdered by his subjects. Some such account as this may have inspired Poe's description of the Temple of the Sun.
Poe knew of the notorious indulgences of the Roman emperor, as his reference in “William Wilson” indicates: “From comparatively trivial wickedness I passed, with the stride of a giant, into more than the enormities of an Elah-Gabalus.” Works, III, 299.
[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 301:]
58. Early version in the Messenger, March, 1836. The punctuation and capitalization are as printed there.
[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 302:]
59. Abraham Rees, The Cyclopedia; or Universal Dictionary of Arts, Sciences, and Literature. First American Edition, Philadelphia, volume II. M. N. Posey (Modern Language Notes, XLV, Dec., 1930, 505f.) has known that Poe used Rees's Cyclopedia for details in “Hans Pfaall.”
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 304:]
60. I have compared accounts of the earlier writers with Rollin's Histoire Ancienne, Paris, volume VIII, and with the translated version, twelfth edition, VII; also with The Ancient History of the Jews, London, 1835, and An Universal History from the Earliest Account of Time, London, 1802, IX.
The original records of the library of the University of Virginia shows Rollin's Histoire Ancienne among the books used by Poe during his days as a student. Poe kept the fourth volume of the Histoire a month beyond the time it was due to be returned and was fined accordingly. Unfortunately, for our purpose of tracing directly to Rollin the material of “Epimanes,” the fourth volume of the editions I have examined deals with Greek history. I am told, however, that abridged editions in four volumes existed, the fourth volume containing, therefore, the regular volumes seven and eight. According to the Catalogue of the Library of the University of Virginia, published by Gilmer, Davis, and Co., 1828, the set of Rollin in the Library comprised sixty volumes.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 306:]
61. Daniel, VIII, 9; also XI and XII.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 307:]
62. I (July, 1835), 820.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 308:]
63. The Animal Kingdom. By the Baron Cuvier. Additional Descriptions by Edward Griffiths. London. 1827, IV, 150ff.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 309:]
64. Natural History, General and Particular. By the Count de Buffon. Translated by William Smellie. A New Edition. Corrected and Enlarged by William Wood, London, 1812, in 20 volumes, VIII, 341ff.
65. New Complete and Universal Natural History. From the last London edition of J. Macloc. By Benjamin Mayo, Philadelphia, 1818, I, 64-65.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 310:]
66. Stedman and Woodberry, Works of Poe, IV, 295.
67. In this connection see Professor Campbell's note, The Mind of Poe, 174. He cites Professor W. D. Arme as holding that Poe committee a serious offense in borrowing from Disraeli's Vivian Grey suggestions for the account of the debauch: Armes, Transactions of the American Philological Association for 1907, p. xxxi. A recent biographer attempts to date Poe's story around 1826 when Vivian Grey appeared because of the “patent similarities”: Una Pope-Hennessy, Edgar Allan Poe, A Critical Biography, Macmillan, London, 1934, 135, Note 1.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 310:]
68. Op. cit., I, 130.
69. “The Devil Was in It,” loc. cit., 218.
70. Professor Wilson also attaches importance to the signature used in the Messenger, “A Tale Containing an Allegory — By —. “ Comparison of this signature with others in the same issue of the Messenger seems to ne to indicate that the signature is without significance. The September issue contained three of Poe's tales, “Loss of Breath,” which he signed with “by Edgar A. Poe,” “Shadow,” which was printed as “Shadow. A Fable — By ——,” and “King Pest the First. A Tale Containing an Allegory — By ——.” The blank after “By” appears in each case simply to suggest anonymity rather than a sly allusion to some other author. As editor of the Broadway Journal, Poe usually signed only one story in an issue when more than one appeared in the same number of the periodical. Examination of the September number of the Messenger shows that other anonymous articles were also signed “By ——.”
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 312:]
71. Vivian Grey, Bodley Head Press, London, 1927, 424ff.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 314:]
72. Professor Killis Campbell has pointed out “Longfellow, Lowell, and Poe,” Modern Language Notes, XLII (Dec., 1927), 520ff. that Griswold changed Poe's word nare to nature. He cites other instances of its appearance in Poe's work in support of nare as the right reading. The best indication, it seems to me, of Poe's deliberate intent to use the word lies in the fact that Disraeli had used it twice in the passage which Poe was travestying — “inexplicable nare,” and “indefinable nare.”
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 315:]
73. Loc. cit., 218.
74. See letter cited by Napier Wilt, “Poe's Attitude toward His Tales,” loc. cit.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 316:]
75. “Hints to Young Novel Writers,” A Midsummer Medley, 115ff.
76. See the discussion of “the grotesque” in chapter IV.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 316, running to the bottom of page 317:]
77. Disraeli was not only ‘satirizing the fashionable novel, perhaps, but also some of the philosophical writings of his predecessors. Oliver Elaton (A Survey of English Literature, New York, Macmillan, 1929, IV, 176) writes of Vivian Grey as “still the cleverest of boyish satire and suggests that Disraeli was probably inspired by Peacock's satirical novels. Professor Wilson says that Disraeli's “pleasantest piece of assurance is to borrow silently, and to mangle in the borrowing, one of the famous pages of the Religio Medici.” This passage, not indicated by Professor Elton, appears to be the well-known tribute to sleep in Religio Medici, Part II, sections XI and XII. Disraeli's parody occurs in Vivian Grey, Book VI, chapter IV. The novel contains many other echoes of Browne's treaties. No doubt Disraeli took from it the notion of monstrous beings, “created,” according to Browne, “in those outward shapes and figures which best express the actions of their inward forms.” (Religio Medici, Part I, section XVI.) Poe may have known the Religio Medici and have recognized what [page 317:] Disraeli was doing with the materials of his sober predecessor. A new interest in the book was aroused in 1831 by the appearance, first, of a new English edition, and, shortly after, by the publication of the first American edition, in Boston. It appears, however, to have retained a degree of its original popularity during the whole period of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 318:]
78. Work's, II, 359.
79. New Monthly Magazine, XIX (1827), 302.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 320:]
80. Feb. 11, 1836. Letters, 29ff.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 321:]
81. “The Buried Alive,” X (Oct., 1821), 262ff.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 326:]
82. Works, VIII, 272. Poe's use of these two italicized epithets is of interest when referred to the letter of advice which he had received from Kennedy (Feb. 9, 1826, Letters, 28). Kennedy had alluded to “intense writers and your “bizarreries.” It is altogether possible that Dr. Moneypenny as Signora Zenobia's literary adviser is a slight reflection of Poe's own literary mentor, John P. Kennedy.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 327:]
83. In connection with a discussion of this reference in “How to Write a Blackwood Article,” Miss Alterton (op. cit., p, 11, note 18) identifies “The Dead Alive” with “The Buried Alive” in Blackwood's, X, 262. Poe's description of the tale indicates rather clearly that he had in mind “The Buried Alive,” which, as I have pointed out, he satirized in “Loss of Breath.” He probably had in mind the title, “The Dead Alive,” from a tale which he had read in Fraser's. A story by that title appeared in Fraser's, IX (April, 1834), 411ff., in the same year as the story, “The Maelstrom,” which I have indicated as a probable source of his “A Descent into the Maelstrom.” See note 58 of chapter II.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 329:]
84. As an interesting possibility, it may be worth while to point out that Pompey's prototype exists. In the character of Pompey, a Barbadoes negro, in the household of Mr. Frampton in The New Forest (New Edition. London. 1830. 3 volumes) by Horatio Smith. He is a comic figure who entertains everybody, is a privileged member of the household, and speaks a wretchedly doggerel language.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 330:]
85. Poe later changed the title of his tale, for its Broadway Journal appearance, to “Some Passages in the Life of a Lion.” He was conforming again to a popular fashion, as the later form of the title had many parallels in the sketches and tales of the time. I have made no attempt to collect similar titles systematically, but have chanced upon the following: “Some Passages in the Diary of a Late Physician.” Blackwood's, 1831-38; “A Passage in the Life of Watkins Tottle,” Watkins Tottle and Other Sketches, reviewed by Poe in the Messenger, June, 1836; “Some Passages from the Diary of the late Mr. St. John,” Fraser's, III (Jan., 1831), 739ff.; “Singular Passage in My Own Life,” Fraser's, III (May, 1831); “Some Passages in the Life of an Idler,” Fraser's, III (April, 1831), 305ff.; “A Passage in the Life and Adventures of the Chevelier du T — ,” New Monthly, XXV (March, 1829, 231ff.; “Some Passages from the Diary of a late Fashionable Apothecary,” New Monthly, XXXI (March, 1831), 233ff. “Unpublished Passages in the Life of Vidocq, the French Minister of Police,” Burton's Gentlemen's Magazine, III and IV, from Sept., 1833, to May, 1839; “Passages from the Adventures of Geoffrey,” Burton's Gentleman's Magazine, II (March, 1838) 159ff.; “Passages from the Diary of a Philadelphia Lawyer,” Burton's Gentleman's Magazine, IV, a series of articles in 1839.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 331:]
86. Poe to White, July 20, 1835. Woodberry, op. cit., I, 119-121.
87. Works, VIII. Introduction to Poe's Criticism, p. xi.
88. Daughrity, “Poe's Quiz on Willis,” loc. cit.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 332:]
89. S.L.M,, (May, 1835) 531.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 333:]
90. Op. cit., I, 130. Bulwer's tale was published first in a British annual in the fall of 1828, Literary Souvenir for 1829. Poe probably read it when it appeared in the American edition of The Student in 1832. In this connection see notes of chapter II.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 335:]
91. The Student. Philadelphia. 1847, p. 157.
92. Messenger version, Works, VIII, 327. Poe afterwards revised the story completely.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 336:]
93. I (May, 1835), 483.
94. D. K. Jackson, op. cit., 52. In a more recent article, “Four of Poe's Critiques in the Baltimore Newspapers,” Modern Language Notes, L. (April, 1935), 251ff., Mr. Jackson has emended his suggestion, without any reference to his previous statement, to point out that “A Tale of a Nose” in the April Messenger, mentioned as “well told and exceedingly ludicrous,” in the Baltimore Republican critique of May 14, 1835, may have furnished Poe with his suggestion for “Lionizing.”
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 337:]
95. Letter to White, July 20, 1335. See, note 73 above.
96. London. 1827. 3 volumes. I, 69ff.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 338:]
97. XX, 159ff.
98. “Punch and Judy,” III (April, 1831), 350ff.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 339:]
99. VI (Sept., 1832), 236 f.
100. Disraeli's use of this device to caricature his figures in the revels of the Johannesberger group has been noted, as well as Poe's burlesque of this device, in the discussion of “King Pest.”
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 340:]
101. Blackwood's Magazine published “The Man with the Mouth,” XXIII (nay, 1828), 597ff., and “The Man Mountain,” XXV (March, 1829), 311fr. The Red Man” appeared in Ackerman's annual for 1829, according to Moir, op. cit., I, 132.
102. “Review of France in 1822-30, by Morgan Rattler,” Fraser's III (Feb., 1831), 75ff.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 341:]
103. I, 54.
104. 1, 134ff.
[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 343:]
105. This list is changed somewhat and elaborated in the revised version of the tale, but the effect is the same.
[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 344:]
106. III (Feb., 1831), 82.
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Notes:
None.
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[S:0 - RLH35, 1935] - Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore - Bookshelf - Poe's Craftsmanship in the Short Story (Hudson)