Showing posts with label 1837. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1837. Show all posts

Thursday, June 25, 2009

The night of the twenty-fifth of June

"I remember the buzz of curiosity which his advent excited within the college precincts on the night of the twenty-fifth of June." Thus says the narrator of Poe's obscure tale, "Mystification," originally published in June 1837 as "Von Jung, the Mystific." The comedic tale was the only major work which Poe published that year, amidst the backdrop of the Panic of 1837.

The community at the "University of G——n" was abuzz on June 25 that year, so says the story, because of the arrival of the Baron Ritzner Von Jung, a Hungarian nobleman who many described as "the most remarkable man in the universe." Ironic, perhaps, because our narrator notes he is "by no means a handsome man — perhaps rather the reverse." Of course, what makes him interesting is that he has made mystification his "scientific" pursuit. Though the narrator questions the Baron's ability, he admits that "we were chums."

Amidst conversation on June 25, a man nicknamed Hermann ("he was one of the greatest asses in all Christendom") took a sudden interest in the Baron's words about the traditional duello. Hermann takes issue. He says:
"Your opinions, allow me to say, Baron Von Jung, although in the main correct,
are in many nice points discreditable to yourself and to the University of which
you are a member. In a few respects they are even unworthy of serious
refutation. I would say more than this, Sir, were it not for the fear of giving
you offence, (here the speaker smiled blandly,) I would say, Sir, that your
opinions are not the opinions to be expected from a gentleman."
Uh-oh. Furious at being challenged, the Baron takes a moment to compose himself before trying to prove he is a true gentleman. Rather than venturing on violence for this insult, he says he will throw a bottle of wine at Hermann's reflection in the mirror, which he does, believing it proves him a true gentleman.

The narrator (curiously named "Mr. P—") serves as a go-between among the two men as they make a gentlemanly exchange airing their grievances. As it turns out, the Baron had planted a book on dueling for Hermann which was purposely mystifying and written in a way to confuse. Hermann, however, attempted to follow the instructions of the book without comprehending a word of it. In fact, it was "a horribly absurd account of a duel between two baboons." Rather than admitting his confusion, Hermann fell right into the "Mystific" trap.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

The mystific panic of 1837

On May 10, 1837, the New York City banks suspended payments in specie (gold and silver). The date is now agreed to be the start of one of the worst depressions in American history: the Bank Panic of 1837.

The Second Bank of the United States had been chartered by Alexander Hamilton. Andrew Jackson chose not to renew their charter, forcing them to close under the presidency of Martin Van Buren. The value of paper money fell to nothing, credit was refused, and payment in gold or silver was demanded. Banks, like those in New York which suspended specie payments on May 10, had more paper money circulating than the gold and silver they had to back it up. One group called for paper money under $100 to be banned completely so that only gold and silver be used permanently. The resulting "panic" was immediate. City Hall in New York was mobbed with people demanding prices on goods be forced down. A flour warehouse in that same city was robbed and the excitement had to be quelled by state militia. Mills and factories closed, banks went out of business, and even state governments were denied loans.

New York City, the center of national publishing in the United States, was hit especially hard (note that other publishing centers — including Baltimore, Hartford, and Boston — generally printed only regionally; New York was the first to print for a nation-wide audience). In addition to the panic, a severe fire in the publishing district destroyed many warehouses, printing machinery, and entire companies.

Edgar A. Poe had moved to New York in February 1837, hoping to make it big as a writer. The Panic, as you can imagine, stymied his literary output. His only major work that year was an obscure comedic short story, "Von Jung, the Mystific" — now known as "Mystification." Poe had hoped that publishing a novel would get his name out there but the panic also caused delays and other troubles for his novel The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket (which was eventually released in two volumes in 1838). He soon gave up on New York and moved to Philadelphia — his several years in that city became his most prolific writing period.

Panics happened with some regularity in the 19th century in the United States. 1818 and 1857, for example, saw difficult panics. Another popped up in 1873, ten years after a National Banking Act was passed.

This economic climate and its effect on the publishing industry are one part of my upcoming lecture, "Poe and Publishing." Sponsored by the bibliophiles of the Ticknor Society, this talk will take place on May 12 at 6:00 p.m. in the Orientation Room of the Boston Public Library. If you drop by, introduce yourself!