Saturday, March 23, 2013
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Edgar Allan Poe, Insurance Salesman
As part of my ongoing efforts to have the two most peculiar blogs on the Internet, over at the sister site, I've posted an advertisement from 1890 where they used "The Bells" to nag people into buying fire insurance.
You never know where Poe will turn up next.
Monday, March 4, 2013
The Fever Called Blogging
In what I can only assume was a moment of madness, I started a new blog: Strange Company. I’m not sure how to describe it—it’ll have no particular theme other than chatting about incidents and people from history that happen to appall/interest/amuse me. In other words, it’ll probably be an incoherent mess.
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| Yeah, Edgar's agreed to come along for the ride. |
I don’t intend to give up on this blog altogether, but I’m in the mood for finding new ways to make a pest of myself, and thought I’d give this new project a whirl. If any of you decide to take a look, I hope you find something you feel is worth a few moments of your time. I’m kicking things off with the story of a nameless, legless man who became one of Nova Scotia’s most famous mysteries.
See you!
Friday, March 1, 2013
Poe and Charles Dickens
Poe and Dickens were two very different writers. They spent their lives in separate countries, only met on two brief occasions, and their known correspondence is scanty and impersonal. However, their careers still intersected in various significant ways--which seems only fitting for two of the most renowned writers of the 19th century.
Poe’s interest in Dickens’ work began very early. In his first published mention of the English author, a review of “Watkins Tottle and Other Sketches” in the June 1836 issue of the “Southern Literary Messenger,” he referred to Dickens’ stories as “old and highly esteemed acquaintances.” He went on to describe the author as a “far more pungent, more witty, and better disciplined writer of sly sketches, than nine-tenths of the Magazine writers of Great Britain.”
In the November “Messenger” Poe said “The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club” (which had just appeared in a pirated American edition) “fully sustained” his earlier glowing opinion of Dickens. “The author possesses nearly every desirable quality in a writer of fiction, and has withal a thousand negative virtues…we can only express our opinion that his general powers as a prose writer are equaled by few.”
Poe gave a brief review of “Nicholas Nickleby” in the December 1839 “Burton’s Magazine.” He called it perhaps Dickens’ best work to date, declaring boldly, “Charles Dickens is no ordinary man, and his writings must unquestionably live.”
Two years later, Poe reviewed “Master Humphrey’s Clock” and “The Old Curiosity Shop” for the May 1841 issue of “Graham’s Magazine.” As befitted his increased maturity as a critic, Poe’s analysis was more detailed and judgmental than his earlier reviews. When taking note of the somewhat muddled aspects of the works, he went so far as to suggest that “…the rumors in respect to the sanity of Mr. Dickens, which were so prevalent during the publication of the first numbers of the work, had some slight, some very slight foundation of truth.” He suspected that some of the narratives “were probably sent to press to supply a demand for copy,” and asserted that “Mr. Dickens did not precisely know his own plans when he penned the five or six first chapters of the ‘Clock.’”
When focusing on “The Old Curiosity Shop,” Poe wrote a lengthy paragraph itemizing its various shortcomings, including the complaint that Dickens endowed his characters “with a warmth of feeling so very rare in reality. Above all, we acknowledge the death of Nelly is excessively painful; that it leaves a most distressing oppression of spirit upon the reader, and should, therefore, have been avoided.”
It’s very interesting indeed to observe a tender-hearted Poe chastising Dickens for his grimness.
Although Poe found many minor details to criticize, he saw much to praise in the work’s overall conception. He wrote, “The plot is the best which could have been constructed for the main object of the narrative.” The depiction of love between grandfather and grandchild was “indeed most beautiful. It is simple and severely grand. The more fully we survey it, the more thoroughly are we convinced of the lofty character of that genius which gave it birth.”
He went on to extol the “imagination” and “originality,” displayed in “The Old Curiosity Shop.” “[Imagination] is the one charm all potent, which alone would suffice to compensate for a world of more error than Mr.Dickens ever committed.”
In the May 1 issue of the “Saturday Evening Post,” Poe examined the first few installments of “Barnaby Rudge,” which was then being published as a serial. His predictions for how the story would play out were not terribly accurate. (He would later blame this on Dickens’ shortcomings as a novelist: “We did not rightly prophesy,” he later wrote in his most delightfully Poeish manner, “yet, at least, our prophecy should have been right.”)
The February 1842 “Graham’s” contained Poe’s long, highly detailed, and not altogether flattering analysis of the now-completed “Rudge.” Obviously realizing his criticisms might be unpopular, he defended himself in advance with the ingenious assertion that fault-finding was the highest form of flattery:
“Those who know us will not, from what is here premised, suppose it our intention, to enter into any wholesale laudation of ‘Barnaby Rudge.’ In truth, our design may appear, at a cursory glance, to be very different indeed. Boccalini, in his ‘Advertisements from Parnassus,’ tells us that a critic once presented Apollo with a severe censure upon an excellent poem. The God asked him for the beauties of the work. He replied that he only troubled himself about the errors. Apollo presented him with a sack of unwinnowed wheat, and bade him pick out all the chaff for his pains. Now we have not fully made up our minds that the God was in the right. We are not sure that the limit of critical duty is not very generally misapprehended. Excellence may be considered an axiom, or a proposition which becomes self-evident just in proportion to the clearness or precision with which it is put. If it fairly exists, in this sense, it requires no farther elucidation. It is not excellence if it need to be demonstrated as such. To point out too particularly the beauties of a work, is to admit, tacitly, that these beauties are not wholly admirable. Regarding, then, excellence as that which is capable of self-manifestation, it but remains for the critic to show when, where, and how it fails in becoming manifest; and, in this showing, it will be the fault of the book itself if what of beauty it contains be not, at least, placed in the fairest light. In a word, we may assume, notwithstanding a vast deal of pitiable cant upon this topic, that in pointing out frankly the errors of a work, we do nearly all that is critically necessary in displaying its merits. In teaching what perfection is, how, in fact, shall we more rationally proceed than in specifying what it is not?”
Although Poe had many flattering comments about the completed work, he faulted Dickens’ handling of the plot, as well as the general construction of the novel.
The names of Dickens and Poe were next linked through a minor literary guessing-game. In October 1842, "American Notes," Dickens’ account of his visit to the United States, was released. His critical, if not mocking, views of the country unsurprisingly caused American publications to return his disparagement, with interest. One of the most vigorous rebuttals to Dickens’ work was a pamphlet called “English Notes,” which was published under the pseudonym of “Quarles Quickens” two months later. For all its patriotic fervor, it was an inferior piece of work, and soon vanished nearly without a trace. It was forgotten by all except the most passionate collectors of Dickensiana until 1912, when an eccentric literary scholar named Joseph Jackson attributed the authorship of “English Notes” to Poe, largely on the basis that Poe first published “The Raven” under the name “Quarles.”
As so often happens when researchers fall in love with their own theories, Jackson was forced to essentially turn to writing fiction to support his argument. In March of 1842, Poe and Dickens met in Philadelphia, where the former secured the latter’s promise to help him secure an English publisher. Jackson took this snippet of fact to assume that, when Poe failed to hear from Dickens for some months afterwards, he became so embittered that, a la Griswold, he was inspired to take a savage literary revenge for this presumed neglect. When Poe did hear from Dickens in November, the Englishman apologized for his delay in answering and proved that he had tried—albeit unsuccessfully—to find Poe a publisher. Unfortunately, it was too late to recall the insulting pamphlet. However, Dickens’ reference to Poe as an “unknown writer” so offended Poe personally that he used the name “Quarles” when publishing “The Raven” as a way of publicly showing Dickens what he really thought of him.
To summarize what was a long and rather tiresome debate: Jackson claimed to see in “English Notes” similarities with Poe’s known writings that eluded virtually everyone else except—as one observer suggested—book dealers and collectors hoping to increase the value of their otherwise worthless copies of “English Notes.” (One notable exception is Poe biographer Mary E. Phillips. In her 1926 “Edgar Allan Poe: The Man,” she expended many characteristically rambling and incoherent pages in arguing that Poe did indeed write “English Notes”--and several other relevant anonymous articles besides. Unfortunately, all she proved was that as a historian, she had a good deal more energy than sense.)
Although the idea that Poe was the author of “English Notes” has long been dismissed, it is true that at one point Poe fancied he had a grudge against Dickens. In January 1844 a review of Rufus Griswold’s anthology “Poets and Poetry of America” appeared in London’s “Foreign Quarterly Review.” The anonymous critic thought little of the collection as a whole, and personally offended Poe by suggesting he was a mere imitator of Tennyson. For someone with Poe’s obsession about plagiarism, this slur on his own originality was extremely irritating.
Poe believed Dickens was the author. He wrote James Russell Lowell that it was denied that Dickens wrote the review, “but, to me, the article affords so strong internal evidence of his hand that I would as soon think of doubting my existence.”
We now believe that Poe was wrong in his assertion that Dickens was responsible for the article that so outraged him (although the author was likely Dickens’ close friend John Forster.) In any case, whatever Poe may have privately thought about the Englishman, it did not affect his critical acumen. He remained as supportive of Dickens’ writings as ever.
Soon after Poe moved to New York in the spring of 1844, he sent a series of seven “letters” to the “Columbia Spy,” published under the title “Doings of Gotham." In his May 27 "letter" Poe compared Bulwer-Lytton's upcoming visit to America with Dickens' tour two years before. “The Gothamites,” he wrote sardonically, “not yet having made sufficient fools of themselves in their fete-ing and festival-ing of Dickens, are already on the qui vivi to receive Bulwer in a similar manner. If I mistake not, however, the author of ‘The Last Days of Pompeii’ will not be willing ‘to play Punch and Judy’ for the amusement of the American rabble…When I spoke of Bulwer’s probably refusing to do what Dickens made no scruples of doing, I by no means intended a disparagement of the latter. Dickens is a man of far greater genius than Bulwer.”
The most famous link between these two literary giants is suggested by Poe’s final review of “Barnaby Rudge.” He regretted that the title character’s pet raven was not used to its fullest. “Its croaking might have been prophetically heard in the course of the drama. Its character might have performed, in regard to that of the idiot, much the same part as does, in music, the accompaniment in respect to the air.”
Yes, it is generally acknowledged that Dickens’ ghastly, grim, and ancient Grip, prone to croaking “Nobody” at ominous moments, provided a germ of suggestion for Poe’s even more famous bird--one of the most felicitous examples in literature of one great artist unwittingly providing inspiration to another.
It is curious that the Poe/Dickens connection essentially ended there. Poe never reviewed Dickens’ subsequent writings again, and there is no evidence he read them. It is as if, after “The Raven,” he had no further interest in his contemporary.
On Dickens’ side, his attitude was even more unfortunately indifferent. He seemed unfamiliar with Poe’s body of work, and while his personal attitude towards Poe was far from unfriendly, he showed no interest in pursuing their brief acquaintance.
Perhaps, however, Dickens had a deeper regard for Poe than we know. It was said that during his second visit to America in 1868, he took the trouble to look up Poe’s ever-beleaguered aunt/mother-in-law Maria Clemm, and “generously entreated her acceptance of one hundred and fifty dollars with the assurance of his sympathy.”
(Image of Dickens via NYPL Digital Gallery; Barnaby Rudge and Grip by Fred Barnard c. 1870 via Wikipedia.)
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
In Which I Realize That This Blog Would Probably Be Greatly Improved By a Few Posts About New Hampshire Glass Blowers
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| Every so often, Edgar makes the dreadful mistake of Googling himself. |
Yes, it's time for yet another peek at some of the internet searches that have led people to my humble little corner of cyberspace:
1. did edgar allan poe and albert einstein ever meet
Edgar Allan Poe: 1809-1849. Albert Einstein: 1879-1955.
2. the tell tale heart: edgar allan poe decide how he wanted to ____ his readers beore [sic] he decided what
Our public education system at work.
3. productive Quotes to think about while at work
You’ll never find them here.
4. 75 fun facts about edgar allan poe
Because what says “fun!” like Edgar Allan Poe?
5. you cant have exqusite [sic] beauty without some weirdness
You can’t write a Poe blog without some of that, either.
6. is it true or false edgar allan poe was son of a nobleman
See what I mean?
7. if you had $50 dollars to spend what would you buy poe
Anything his little heart desired.
8. Could edgar allan poe have sex?
Hey, what kind of joint do you think I'm running here?
9. edgar allan poe syphilis symptoms
Go ask Dr. Tanner about this one.
10. edgar allan poe with first wife
I’d be more curious to know who the second one was.
11. did edgar allan poe live in providence rhode island in 1848?
No. He just made a few brief visits. On a related note, you wouldn't believe how many people come to this blog searching for the "Edgar Allan Poe house" in Providence. I'm not sure if they're thinking of Sarah Helen Whitman's home (which still exists,) or if some idiot of a tour guide has spread the word Poe actually resided in the city.
12. did rosalie mackenzie poe marry
No. And she didn't live in Providence either.
13. how to draw turkey
Put out some tasty food for turkey. That’ll draw him.
14. edgar allan poe married virginia clemm
Yes, I do believe he did.
15. poe theme recipes
Bon-Bon? The Duc De L'Omelette? Hamabel Lee? The Tell-Tale Heartichoke? Wines and Spirits of the Dead? The Fall of the House of Pies? The Purloined Lettuce? The Angel Food Cake of the Odd? The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pimento? Burger King Pest?
I think what I need is a nice nap. One that lasts three or four years, perhaps.
16. stoddard glass blowers photo
This is the best I can do. We aim to please here at World of Poe.
17. edgar allan poe house in lewistown, pa
Fuggetaboutit.
18. jon lippard
My guess is he's a glass blower living in Lewistown, PA. And he's probably excellent at drawing turkeys.
19. did edgar allan poe die on a bench
John Cusack, you've got a hell of a lot to answer for.
20. and in a sieve ill thither sale
Finally, some productive quotes to think about while at work!
21. was virginia clemm murdered
No, but questions like this may wind up being the death of me.
22. was edgar a poe the father of marie louise shew's son henry b.1849
Forget the nap. Can someone just show a little mercy and knock me unconscious with a brick?
Let me--not a moment too soon--end this post by quoting the most horrifying words anyone ever typed into a search engine:
comparing justin bieber to edgar allan poe
Monday, February 25, 2013
Marginalia: Freemasons, Sarah Helen Whitman, a Premature Burial, and How the Heck Did the Raven Cast That Shadow, Anyway?
The following comes from an interview with a painter named John Arnold that appeared in the “Boston Herald” around the time of Poe’s Centenary. It is of some interest because the latter paragraph, at least, is all so much balderdash. From all the available evidence—including the stories Sarah Helen Whitman herself gave out—after their tentative engagement was broken, Poe stalked out of her life for good. They never saw each other again, and their only subsequent contact was an extremely cold, formal letter he wrote her discussing the best ways they could put a public air of dignity over the end of their relationship—a letter she never worked up the nerve to answer. (In truth, rather than asking her to “reconsider her decision,” Poe gave every indication that he felt he was well rid of Mrs. Whitman.) And, of course, Whitman herself once privately admitted that what she felt for Poe was admiration and fascination rather than love.
I am mildly curious if Arnold was simply giving a garbled recollection of Whitman’s reminiscences, or if this is a fairly accurate summary. Her descriptions of her relations with Poe underwent decided shifts and embellishments over the years—especially when she thought she was speaking “off the record”—and this may well be another example. If so, it is just additional evidence the “Seer of Providence” tended to talk through her hat. Or, rather, her ether bottle.
“I became acquainted with Mrs. Whitman in 1868, the year before I painted her portrait. She came to my studio and said she desired that I should paint her portrait. She wanted an original sketch and one differing from that which Thompson had painted. From the hour of that first interview until she died, we were great friends. As our acquaintance grew more confidential, Mrs. Whitman told me a good deal of Poe. She said that they were very much in love with one another, but he was addicted to drink which made her cautious as to completing their alliance. She said that she had implored and then made Poe leave off drinking. This was accomplished by exacting a promise of abstemiousness. For a while I believed and so did Mrs. Whitman that Poe was keeping his word. This illusion was dispelled when one night he came to her home in this city under the influence of liquor.
Mrs. Whitman was deeply shocked by Poe's disregard of the promise he had given her and summarily broke the engagement. Poe was very much affected by her decision. He went immediately to New York, where he wrote to her and asked her to reconsider her decision and permit him to see her. Mrs. Whitman in recalling this momentous incident in her life said to me one evening that Poe pleaded hard and that for a while she did waver, but feeling that it was impossible she could not give her consent for the renewal of their engagement. Deeply as she loved him, she said, she could not give her happiness into the keeping of a man who had so little will power.”
*****
The following column by E. J. Edwards appeared in the “Washington (D.C.) Herald” on December 2, 1913, under the title “Capt. Wagner’s Recollections of Edgar A. Poe." These “recollections” are the usual vague, generic material found in so many articles about Poe, and I would not bother reprinting them if not for the odd comment in the first paragraph. Although Poe made sly references to Freemasonry in “The Cask of Amontillado,” I do not know of any credible claim that he was affiliated with the Craft, let alone that he was “prominently identified” with the Utica home. (Although this blog gets a startling number of hits from people linking Poe and Masonry.) I have found several contemporary references to Wagner--he was, unsurprisingly, a prominent Freemason. However, I have no other evidence that he even knew Poe.
I find it quite hard to believe Poe had any genuine ties to the Masons, (particularly given his published mockery,) but as this is a unique statement, I just pass it along as a curiosity. (Note: The “lady of Providence” was, of course, Sarah Helen Whitman.)
“I presume that very few persons are now living who ever saw, certainly very few who ever talked with, Edgar A. Poe." said Capt. Frederick C. Wagner to me. "In his day he was a very prominent citizen of New York and was well known to the Masonic fraternity of the United States by his prominent identification with the establishment of the great Masonic home at Utica, N.Y. I am fortunate enough to be able to recall many meetings of Poe and several interesting conversations which I had with him at one time or another,” he went on.
Having said this to me, Capt. Wagner took a wallet of the kind used for carrying small papers or documents from an inner pocket, and opening it, after some searching among the papers, took a half sheet of what used to be styled commercial note paper. He showed me the date. It was in September, 1859. With a delicacy, the reasons for which I afterward appreciated, Capt. Wagner concealed the name of the writer of the communication. I saw it was in a woman's handwriting. The paper was somewhat faded and the ink was beginning to turn. The communication had reference to some business matter, as I saw after I had read the first paragraph of the letter.
"That letter," said Capt. Wagner, "was written to me by a friend of my family, a lady of Providence, RI, who wanted me to execute a business commission for her. It was a lady to whom Edgar A. Poe was once engaged to be married.
"She had great admiration for Poe's genius and for him as a man, but there came a day when she had visible evidence that Poe could not control his appetite, and for that reason the engagement was broken.
"I knew the circumstances at the time. But I did not then know that Poe occasionally yielded to the temptations of indulging in spiritous drink. I was speaking of this to a friend who knew Poe well and who admired him greatly, and he told me that Edgar, as he called Poe, was to be pitied rather than censured. He said that the trouble with Poe was that if he swallowed even a small amount of liquor it instantly affected him--set his brain in a whirl--and that this was due to some physical weakness. He said that Poe's only safety was in absolute abstinence. Frequently when he was thought to be greatly overcome by liquor it was really the case that he had swallowed only a moderate amount of whisky or brandy.
"I never saw Poe when he gave the slightest indication that he was not fully himself. I used occasionally to meet him at some one of the monthly receptions, which were given by the Cary sisters, Alice and Phoebe at their home in Seventeenth Street, New York. If there ever was what the French call a literary salon in New York, these receptions of the Cary sisters could be thus described. We used to see George William Curtis, dignified and yet cordial, frequently the center of a merry group, a very handsome man who had just gained his first reputation as an author. Occasionally Parke Godwin would stroll in, a heavy, thick set man, son-in-law of William Cullen Bryant. There was romantic association with Mr. Godwin, since he was known as a lad to have sat upon the knee of Aaron Burr, and when a young man at Princeton to have met and talked with Burr in the cemetery, where Burr had gone to look at the grave of his father, once president of Princeton. Horace Greeley used to come in, dressed like a gentleman, without any eccentricity of costume, and Anne Stevens [Ann S. Stephens], who then had a great reputation as the author of ‘Fashion and Famine,' a novel which almost vied in popularity with 'Uncle Tom's Cabin.' And sometimes Edgar A. Poe came in, not at all affected in his manner, dreamy and often sad eyed, rejoicing, apparently, in the common tribute that was paid to him even then, because his genius was recognised, although the feeling was that its greater recognition would not come till after his death, which was the fact. My recollections of Edgar Allen [sic] Poe are among the most pleasant of any of those of my young manhood in New York City."
*****
-George W. Eveleth, letter to Edgar Allan Poe, June 9, 1846
“What you say about the blundering criticism of ‘the Hartford Review man’ is just. For the purposes of poetry it is quite sufficient that a thing is possible--or at least that the improbability be not offensively glaring. It is true that in several ways, as you say, the lamp might have thrown the bird’s shadow on the floor. My conception was that of the bracket candelabrum affixed against the wall, high up above the door and bust--as is often seen in the English palaces, and even in some of the better houses in New-York.”
-Edgar Allan Poe, letter to George W. Eveleth, December 15, 1846
The question of how, precisely, literature’s most famous Raven managed to maneuver the “lamp-light o’er” to throw “his shadow on the floor,” is one that has puzzled many other readers besides the “Hartford Review” critic. An unknown poet in the “Wichita (KS) Daily Eagle” for May 7, 1899 offered his own solution to the mystery:
How distinctly I remember, late one evening last November,
I was sitting on a barrel that the moonlight gloated o'er;
‘Twas an empty cider barrel and was useful now no more
Worthless, now, forevermore.
As a few lone stars were blinking I betook myself to thinking.
And I thought of that old raven Edgar Poe has told about.
That was quite a high old raven Mr. Poe has told about.
I kept thinking, thinking, thinking, as those stars kept blinking, blinking.
And the more I thought about it I was more and more in doubt
Edgar's logic knocked me out.
And I found no explanation to that curious situation:
Here's the lamp upon the table and the raven on the door,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming threw his shadow on the floor.
Think of where the lamp was sitting and you cannot help admitting
‘Twas an awful crooked shadow to have ever reached the floor.
‘Twas a hump-backed, cross-eyed shadow
If it ever saw the floor.
So I thought a clear solution to that shadow's dire confusion.
And my only strong conclusion was that Edgar had the snakes.
I am sure he had been drinking and he must have had the snakes.
So perhaps the raven sitting on the cornice, never flitting,
With its fiery eyes a-burning into Edgar's bosom's core
Was the whiskey he'd been drinking just before he fell to thinking
Of his lovely lost Lenore.
It was bug-juice, evermore.
Or perhaps the maiden, deeming such a fellow too demeaning,
Had preferred to share the fortunes of the friends who'd gone before,
And had perished broken-hearted, as fair maids have done before.
Maybe he disgraced and slighted till she felt her life was blighted,
And her lonely soul, benighted, wandered to a fairer shore.
Maybe Edgar's drinking killed her, as it has killed girls before.
It was benzine, evermore.
Get 'most anybody frisky on a quart or two of whisky,
And he'd think he saw some shadows, or some ravens, or some floors,
And the lamps would get befuddled, and the shadows awful muddled,
And he'd see some crazy raven perched on forty-'leven doors.
And he wouldn't know a shutter from a dozen lost Lenores.
It is my profound opinion that if Poe had kept dominion
O'er his brains and o'er his reason, as they used to be of yore
That if he had been less frisky and had guzzled down less whisky
He'd have never seen that raven on the bust above the door.
Very likely that same evening he'd been on a bust before
And got sober--Nevermore.
*****
To end on a considerably more ominous note, the following appeared in Oregon’s “Daily Morning Astoria” on December 19, 1889. I believe that here we have the “How Did Poe Die?” tale to end them all:
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Who Was W.B. Tyler?
Poe often wrote about his fascination with cryptography, most notably in a series of articles published in “Alexander’s Weekly Messenger” and “Graham’s Magazine.” As a result, he was often bombarded with ciphers sent by readers eager to test his puzzle-solving abilities.
Poe published the most curious of these challenges in “Graham’s” in December of 1841. A W.B. Tyler, whom Poe described as “a gentleman whose abilities we very highly respect,” sent in the following letter:
DEAR SIR:
I should perhaps apologise for again intruding a subject upon which you have so ably commented, and which may be supposed by this time to have been almost exhausted; but as I have been greatly interested in the articles upon "Cryptography," which have appeared in your Magazine, I think that you will excuse the present intrusion of a few remarks. With secret writing I have been practically conversant for several years, and I have found, both in correspondence and in the preservation of private memoranda, the frequent benefit of its peculiar virtues. I have thus a record of thoughts, feelings and occurrences, — a history of my mental existence, to which I may turn, and in imagination, retrace former pleasures, and again live through bygone scenes, — secure in the conviction that the magic scroll has a tale for my eye alone. Who has not longed for such a confidante?
Cryptography is, indeed, not only a topic of mere curiosity, but is of general interest, as furnished an excellent exercise for mental discipline, and of high practical importance on various occasions; — to the statesman and the general — to the scholar and the traveller, — and, may I not add "last though not least," to the lover? What can be so delightful amid the trials of absent lovers, as a secret intercourse between them of their hopes and fears, — safe from the prying eyes of some old aunt, or it may be, of a perverse and cruel guardian? — a billet doux that will not betray its mission, even if intercepted, and that can "tell no tales" if lost, or, (which sometimes occurs,) if stolen from its violated depository.
In the solution of the various ciphers which have been submitted to your examination, you have exhibited a power of analytical and synthetical reasoning I have never seen equalled; and the astonishing skill you have displayed — particularly in deciphering the cryptograph of Dr. Charles J. Frailey, will, I think, crown you the king of "secret-readers." But notwithstanding this, I think your opinion that the construction of a real cryptograph is impossible, not sufficiently supported. Those examples which you have published have indeed not been of that character, as you have fully proved. They have, moreover, not been sufficiently accurate, for where the key was a phrase, (and consequently the same character was employed for several letters,) different words would be formed with the same ciphers. The sense could then only be ascertained from the context, and this would amount to a probability — generally of a high degree, I admit — but still not to a positive certainty. Nay, a case might readily be imagined, where the most important word of the communication, and one on which the sense of the whole depended, should have so equivocal a nature, that the person for whose benefit it was intended, would be unable, even with the aid of his key, to discover which of two very different interpretations should be the correct one. If necessary, this can easily be shown; thus, for example, suppose a lady should receive from her affianced, a letter written in ciphers, containing this sentence, "4 5663 967 268 26 3633," and that a and n were represented by the figure 2, — e, m, and r by 3, — i by 4, — l by 5, — o, s, and v by 6, — u by 7, — w by 8, — and y by 9; a moment's inspection will show that the sentence might either be "I love you now as ever," or "I love you now no more." How "positively shocking," to say the least of it; and yet several of the ciphers that you have published have required a greater number of letters to be represented by one character, than any to be found in the example before us. It is evident, then, that this is not a very desirable system, as it would scarcely be more useful than a lock without its key, or with one that did not fit its wards.
I think, however, that there are various methods by which a hieroglyphic might be formed, whose meaning would be perfectly "hidden;" and I shall give one or two examples of what I consider such. A method which I have adopted for my own private use, is one which I am satisfied is of this nature, as it cannot possibly be solved without the assistance of its key, and that key, by which alone it can be unlocked, exists only in my mind; at the same time it is so simple, that with the practice in it which I have had, I now read it, and write it, with as much facility as I can the English character. As I prefer not giving it here, I shall be compelled to have recourse to some other plan that is more complicated. By a CRYPTOGRAPH, I understand — a communication which, though clearly ascertained by means of its proper key, cannot possibly be without it. To most persons, who have not thought much upon the subject, an article written in simple cipher, (by which I mean with each letter uniformly represented by a single distinct character,) would appear to be an impenetrable mystery; and they would doubtless imagine that the more complicated the method of constructing such a cipher, the more insoluble — to use a chemical expression — would be the puzzle, since so much less would be the chance of discovering its key. This very natural conclusion is, however, erroneous, as it is founded on the supposition that possession must first be obtained of the key, in order to unravel the difficulty, — which is not the case. The process of reasoning employed in resolving "secret writing" has not the slightest relation to the form or description of the characters used, but refers simply to their succession, and to a comparison of words in which the same letters occur. By these means any cipher of this nature can be unriddled as experience has fully shown. A very successful method of avoiding detection, would be to apply the simple cipher to words written backwards and continuously. This, I conceive, might be called a perfect cryptograph, since from the want of spaces, and consequently the impossibility of comparing words, it would utterly perplex the person attempting to discover its hidden import, and yet with the help of the key, each letter being known, the words could easily be separated and inverted. I give a short specimen of this style, and would feel much gratified with your opinion of the possibility of reading it.
, † § : ‡ ] [ , ? ‡ ) , [ ¡ ¶ ? , † , ) ¡ , § [ ¶ , : ¶ ! [ .§ ( , † § ¡ || ( ? ? , * * ( ¡ ( [ , ¶ * . [ § ¡ ¶ § ¡ .¶ ] ¿ , † § [
? ( § [ : : ( † [ . ( * ; ( || ( , † § ¡ ‡ [ * .: , ] ! ¶ † || ] ? * ! ¶ † § ¶ || , * ( † ¡ ( , ? ‡ § ( ¡ ¡ ¶ [ ¡ ¶ [ ? ( ,
; § ‡ ‡ ] † § § : ( † [ † [ ¶ ? ‡ ] : .* ¡ ¶ : ( § ? ] ! ¶ † § ‡ ] ; § ? ‡ † ¡ ‡ ¶ ! ( , † § ? ( || * ] [ § ¡ ‘ ¡ , : , , †
§ ) , ? || * ] ? , § § ( ! ¡ ( , .† § † [ ‡ ! ) * ] [ : ? ] ||
Should this not be considered perfect, (though I suspect it would puzzle even the ingenious editor to detect its meaning, ) I shall give another method below, which I can show must be, and if I am successful I think you will do me the justice to admit that " human ingenuity" has contrived "a cipher which human ingenuity cannot resolve." I wish to be distinctly understood; the secret communication above, and the one following, are not intended to show that you have promised more than you can perform. I do not take up the gauntlet. Your challenge, I am happy to testify, has been more than amply redeemed. It is merely with an incidental remark of yours, that I am at present engaged, and my object is to show that however correct it may be generally, — it is not so universally.
Agreeably to a part of my foregoing definition, that cannot be a proper cryptograph, in which a single character is made to represent more than one letter. Let us for a moment see what would be the result if this was reversed, — that is, if more than one cipher were used for a single letter. In case each letter were represented by two different characters, (used alternately or at random, ) it is evident that while the certainty of reading such a composition correctly, by help of the key, would not be at all diminished, the difficulty of its solution without that help, would be vastly increased. This then is an approach to the formation of a secret cipher. If, now, the number of the characters were extended to three or four for each letter, it might be pronounced with tolerable certainty that such a writing would be "secret." Or, to take an extreme case, a communication might be made, in which no two characters would be alike! Here all reasoning would be entirely baffled, as there would evidently be no objects of comparison; and even if half a dozen words were known, they would furnish no clue to the rest. Here, then, is a complete non plus to investigation, and we have arrived at a perfect cryptograph. For, since any given cipher would stand for but one letter in the key, there could be but a single and definite solution; and thus both conditions of my definition are fully satisfied. In the following specimen of this method, I have employed the Roman-capital, small letter, and small capital, with their several inversions, giving me the command of 130 characters, or an average of five to each letter. This is to "make assurance doubly sure," for I am satisfied that were an average of three characters used for each letter, such a writing would be emphatically secret. If you will be so kind as to give my cipher a place in your interesting Magazine, I will immediately forward you its key. Hoping that you will not be displeased with my tedious letter,
I am most respectfully yours,
W. B. TYLER.
To EDGAR A. POE, Esq.
Underneath Tyler’s communication, Poe included a cordial rebuttal of his correspondent’s views:
"The difficulty attending the cipher by key-phrase, viz: that the same characters may convey various meanings — is a difficulty upon which we commented in our first article upon this topic, and more lately at greater length in a private letter to our friend, F. W. Thomas.
The key-phrase cryptograph is, in fact, altogether inadmissible. The labor requisite for its elucidation, even with the key, would, alone, render it so. Lord Bacon very properly defines three essentials in secret correspondence. It is required, first, that the cipher be such as to elude suspicion of being a cipher; secondly, that its alphabet be so simple of formation as to demand but little time in the construction of an epistle; thirdly, that it shall be absolutely insoluble without the key — we may add, fourthly, that, with the key, it be promptly and certainly decipherable.
Admitting, now, that the ingenious cryptograph proposed by our correspondent be absolutely what he supposes it, impenetrable, it would still, we think, be inadmissible on the first point above stated and more so on the second. But of its impenetrability we are by no means sure, notwithstanding what, at a cursory glance, appears to be the demonstration of the writer. In the key-phrase cipher an arbitrary character is sometimes made to represent five, six, seven, or even more letters. Our correspondent proposes merely to reverse the operation: — and this simple statement of the case will do more towards convincing him of his error than an elaborate argument, for which he would neither have time, nor our readers patience. In a key-phrase cryptograph, equally as in his own, each discovery is independent, not necessarily affording any clue to farther discovery. Neither is the idea of our friend, although highly ingenious, philosophical, and unquestionably original with him, (since he so assures us,) original in itself. It is one of the many systems tried by Dr. Wallis and found wanting. Perhaps no good cipher was ever invented which its originator did not conceive insoluble; yet, so far, no impenetrable cryptograph has been discovered. Our correspondent will be the less startled at this, our assertion, when he bears in mind that he who has been termed the ‘wisest of mankind’ — we mean Lord Verulam — was as confident of the absolute insolubility of his own mode as our present cryptographist is of his. What he said upon the subject in his De Augmentis was, at the day of its publication, considered unanswerable. Yet his cipher has been repeatedly unriddled. We may say, in addition, that the nearest approach to perfection in this matter, is the chiffre quarre of the French Academy. This consists of a table somewhat in the form of our ordinary multiplication tables, from which the secret to be conveyed is so written that no letter is ever represented twice by the same character. Out of a thousand individuals nine hundred and ninety-nine would at once pronounce this mode inscrutable. It is yet susceptible, under peculiar circumstances, of prompt and certain solution.
Mr. T. will have still less confidence in his hastily adopted opinions on this topic when we assure him, from personal experience, that what he says in regard to writing backwards and continuously without intervals between the words — is all wrong. So far from ‘utterly perplexing the decipherer,’ it gives him no difficulty, legitimately so called — merely taxing to some extent his patience. We refer him to the files of ‘Alexander's Weekly Messenger,’ for 1839 — where he will see that we read numerous ciphers of the class described, even when very ingenious additional difficulties were interposed. We say, in brief, that we should have little trouble in reading the one now proposed.
‘Here,’ says our friend, referring to another point, ‘all reasoning would be entirely baffled, as there would evidently be no objects of comparison.’ This sentence assures us that he is laboring under much error in his conception of cipher solutions. Comparison is a vast aid unquestionably; but not an absolute essential in the elucidation of these mysteries.
We need not say, however, that this object is an excessively wide one. Our friend will forgive us for not entering into details which would lead us — God knows whither. The ratiocination actually passing through the mind in the solution of even a single cryptograph, if detailed step by step, would fill a large volume. Our time is much occupied, and notwithstanding the limits originally placed to our cartel, we have found ourselves overwhelmed with communications on this subject, and must close it, perforce — deeply interesting as we find it. To this resolution we had arrived last month; but the calm and truly ingenious reasoning of our correspondent has induced us to say these few words more. We print his cipher — with no promise to attempt its solution ourselves — much as we feel inclined to make the promise — and to keep it. Some of our hundred thousand readers will, no doubt, take up the gauntlet thrown down; and our pages shall be open for any communication on the subject, which shall not tax our own abilities or time.”
So far as is known, Poe’s readers failed to “take up the gauntlet,” and the ciphers remained unsolved and forgotten until 1985, when Professor Louis Renza theorized that “W.B. Tyler” was really Poe himself, a suggestion based largely on the rather weak evidence that Renza had been unable to find documentation that Tyler actually existed. This claim was then championed by Shawn Rosenheim in his book “Cryptographic Imagination.” Rosenheim felt that Tyler’s letter was too similar to Poe’s own beliefs to be a mere coincidence, and he noted Poe’s known habit of anonymously publishing writings to and about himself. He also pointed out that Poe acknowledged that some of his readers suspected him of “writing ciphers to ourselves,” which Rosenheim chose to think was an indirect confession.
The hunt for “W.B. Tyler” was on. In 1992, Terence Whalen solved the first of Tyler’s ciphers, which was eventually found to be a quote from Joseph Addison’s 1713 play “Cato.” Rosenheim then established the “E.A. Poe Cryptographic Challenge,” offering a prize of $2500 to the first person to solve the second cipher. Despite this lure, the puzzle was not solved for six years, when a Canadian software engineer named Gil Broza finally submitted a correct decryption. (Broza also discovered that one of the reasons for the difficulty with solving the cipher was the fact that it had numerous mistakes made either by the typesetter or the encipherer himself.) The resulting text proved to still be something of a puzzle (errors in original):
“It was early spring, warm and sultry glowed the afternoon. The very breezes seemed to share the delicious langour of universal nature, are laden the various and mingled perfumes of the rose and the essaerne, the woodbine and its wildflower. They slowly wafted their fragrant offering to the open window where sat the lovers. The ardent sun shoot fell upon her blushing face and its gentle beauty was more like the creation of romance or the fair inspiration of a dream than the actual reality on earth. Tenderly her lover gazed upon her as the clusterous ringlets were edged by amorous and sportive zephyrs and when he perceived the rude intrusion of the sunlight he sprang to draw the curtain but softly she stayed him. ‘No, no, dear Charles,’ she softly said, ‘much rather you’ld I have a little sun than no air at all.’”
Rosenheim agreed that Poe did not actually compose this text (it is a variation of a popular punning joke—sun/son, air/heir—that made the rounds during the era,) but he maintained that the poet was the cipher’s author. He cited not only his belief that “its themes…are absolutely typical of Poe’s writing,” but Poe’s oddly discouraging comments about the Tyler ciphers. In 1842 he advised a reader named Richard Bolton to not even attempt to solve the codes “for the reason that it is merely type in pi or something near it. Being absent from the office for a short time, I did not see a proof, and the compositors have made a complete medley. It has not even a remote resemblance to the MS.” Rosenheim saw Poe’s efforts to exaggerate the errors in the ciphers as evidence of his authorship—although it is difficult to understand why Poe would wish others to ignore a puzzle he himself had created.
Considering Poe’s well-known predilection for hoaxes and multiple literary identities, the circumstantial evidence for his authorship of these ciphers has been considered compelling enough for many researchers to assume he was “W.B. Tyler.” (This presumption has inspired numerous hilariously overblown efforts to interpret these ciphered quotations as Poe’s “secret autobiography”—excellent examples of the fevered lengths scholars will go to in order to try and gain insights about the man.)
There are, however, some difficulties with the “hoax” theory. Author and professor Steven Rachman (who had originally endorsed Renza’s conclusions) discovered several contemporary poems by “W.B. Tyler”—evidently sappy verses that could hardly be considered as Poe’s work--in “Graham’s” and “Alexander’s Weekly Messenger.” I myself have found several nineteenth-century poems by a William Bartlett Tyler (whose name is sometimes also given as “W.B. Tyler.”) These poems are admittedly much later in date than the ones Rachman found, so this could be a different Tyler. However, it seems stretching coincidence to have two different American sentimental poets in that era with the same name.
Some have asked why Poe would spend his valuable time creating a fake persona in order to encrypt two utterly meaningless quotations that he never even bothered to decipher. Also, Poe already knew he was suspected of inventing all the ciphers he had solved, and his pride was clearly offended at the idea he had debased himself by mere “gaggery, or more deliberately speaking, of humbug.” As John A. Hodgson, a researcher who became increasingly unconvinced Poe was Tyler, wrote: “[Poe] was entirely capable of such tricks, but he had his standards.” Hodgson gave further evidence of Poe’s sincerity in the matter: “Among the ciphers submitted to Poe at Alexander’s was the one from a G.W. Kulp…that Poe nevertheless ‘demonstrated to be an imposition—that is to say, we fully proved it a jargon of random characters, having no meaning whatever.’ In his rigorous and even elegant proof of the cipher’s incoherence, Poe offered the fullest glimpse of his deciphering method that he would provide prior to ‘The Gold-Bug.’ Some 135 years later, however, a professor and student in a cryptology class reexamined Kulp’s cipher, found it worth pursuing, and were able to decode it with the help of some computer programs. Kulp, it seems, had indeed submitted ‘a genuine article’; but he had not been ciphering in entire good faith. Poe had clearly offered to solve simple (monoalphabetic) substitution ciphers, and had analyzed Kulp’s as such; but Kulp had in fact sent instead ‘a polyalphabetic substitution cipher working with 12 alphabets keyed by the [twelve letters of the] words ‘United States.’ Kulp’s imperfectly good faith as a cipherer, now revealed, antithetically demonstrates Poe’s genuinely good faith as a decipherer.”
Having said all that, there is still something very peculiar about the Tyler letter that suggests it contains a mystery that we do not realize even exists. The tone of the letter, as well as Poe’s strangely complimentary, but dismissive response, all gives off a certain sense of mockery towards the readers, of Poe enjoying a little private joke at our expense.
In short, is it possible that these trivial cipher messages were “red herrings,” distracting us from the fact that the important “coded message” is somehow embodied in the Tyler letter itself? Could that have been Poe’s real hoax?
We’ll probably never know. And that was very possibly Poe’s intention.
Poe published the most curious of these challenges in “Graham’s” in December of 1841. A W.B. Tyler, whom Poe described as “a gentleman whose abilities we very highly respect,” sent in the following letter:
DEAR SIR:
I should perhaps apologise for again intruding a subject upon which you have so ably commented, and which may be supposed by this time to have been almost exhausted; but as I have been greatly interested in the articles upon "Cryptography," which have appeared in your Magazine, I think that you will excuse the present intrusion of a few remarks. With secret writing I have been practically conversant for several years, and I have found, both in correspondence and in the preservation of private memoranda, the frequent benefit of its peculiar virtues. I have thus a record of thoughts, feelings and occurrences, — a history of my mental existence, to which I may turn, and in imagination, retrace former pleasures, and again live through bygone scenes, — secure in the conviction that the magic scroll has a tale for my eye alone. Who has not longed for such a confidante?
Cryptography is, indeed, not only a topic of mere curiosity, but is of general interest, as furnished an excellent exercise for mental discipline, and of high practical importance on various occasions; — to the statesman and the general — to the scholar and the traveller, — and, may I not add "last though not least," to the lover? What can be so delightful amid the trials of absent lovers, as a secret intercourse between them of their hopes and fears, — safe from the prying eyes of some old aunt, or it may be, of a perverse and cruel guardian? — a billet doux that will not betray its mission, even if intercepted, and that can "tell no tales" if lost, or, (which sometimes occurs,) if stolen from its violated depository.
In the solution of the various ciphers which have been submitted to your examination, you have exhibited a power of analytical and synthetical reasoning I have never seen equalled; and the astonishing skill you have displayed — particularly in deciphering the cryptograph of Dr. Charles J. Frailey, will, I think, crown you the king of "secret-readers." But notwithstanding this, I think your opinion that the construction of a real cryptograph is impossible, not sufficiently supported. Those examples which you have published have indeed not been of that character, as you have fully proved. They have, moreover, not been sufficiently accurate, for where the key was a phrase, (and consequently the same character was employed for several letters,) different words would be formed with the same ciphers. The sense could then only be ascertained from the context, and this would amount to a probability — generally of a high degree, I admit — but still not to a positive certainty. Nay, a case might readily be imagined, where the most important word of the communication, and one on which the sense of the whole depended, should have so equivocal a nature, that the person for whose benefit it was intended, would be unable, even with the aid of his key, to discover which of two very different interpretations should be the correct one. If necessary, this can easily be shown; thus, for example, suppose a lady should receive from her affianced, a letter written in ciphers, containing this sentence, "4 5663 967 268 26 3633," and that a and n were represented by the figure 2, — e, m, and r by 3, — i by 4, — l by 5, — o, s, and v by 6, — u by 7, — w by 8, — and y by 9; a moment's inspection will show that the sentence might either be "I love you now as ever," or "I love you now no more." How "positively shocking," to say the least of it; and yet several of the ciphers that you have published have required a greater number of letters to be represented by one character, than any to be found in the example before us. It is evident, then, that this is not a very desirable system, as it would scarcely be more useful than a lock without its key, or with one that did not fit its wards.
I think, however, that there are various methods by which a hieroglyphic might be formed, whose meaning would be perfectly "hidden;" and I shall give one or two examples of what I consider such. A method which I have adopted for my own private use, is one which I am satisfied is of this nature, as it cannot possibly be solved without the assistance of its key, and that key, by which alone it can be unlocked, exists only in my mind; at the same time it is so simple, that with the practice in it which I have had, I now read it, and write it, with as much facility as I can the English character. As I prefer not giving it here, I shall be compelled to have recourse to some other plan that is more complicated. By a CRYPTOGRAPH, I understand — a communication which, though clearly ascertained by means of its proper key, cannot possibly be without it. To most persons, who have not thought much upon the subject, an article written in simple cipher, (by which I mean with each letter uniformly represented by a single distinct character,) would appear to be an impenetrable mystery; and they would doubtless imagine that the more complicated the method of constructing such a cipher, the more insoluble — to use a chemical expression — would be the puzzle, since so much less would be the chance of discovering its key. This very natural conclusion is, however, erroneous, as it is founded on the supposition that possession must first be obtained of the key, in order to unravel the difficulty, — which is not the case. The process of reasoning employed in resolving "secret writing" has not the slightest relation to the form or description of the characters used, but refers simply to their succession, and to a comparison of words in which the same letters occur. By these means any cipher of this nature can be unriddled as experience has fully shown. A very successful method of avoiding detection, would be to apply the simple cipher to words written backwards and continuously. This, I conceive, might be called a perfect cryptograph, since from the want of spaces, and consequently the impossibility of comparing words, it would utterly perplex the person attempting to discover its hidden import, and yet with the help of the key, each letter being known, the words could easily be separated and inverted. I give a short specimen of this style, and would feel much gratified with your opinion of the possibility of reading it.
, † § : ‡ ] [ , ? ‡ ) , [ ¡ ¶ ? , † , ) ¡ , § [ ¶ , : ¶ ! [ .§ ( , † § ¡ || ( ? ? , * * ( ¡ ( [ , ¶ * . [ § ¡ ¶ § ¡ .¶ ] ¿ , † § [
? ( § [ : : ( † [ . ( * ; ( || ( , † § ¡ ‡ [ * .: , ] ! ¶ † || ] ? * ! ¶ † § ¶ || , * ( † ¡ ( , ? ‡ § ( ¡ ¡ ¶ [ ¡ ¶ [ ? ( ,
; § ‡ ‡ ] † § § : ( † [ † [ ¶ ? ‡ ] : .* ¡ ¶ : ( § ? ] ! ¶ † § ‡ ] ; § ? ‡ † ¡ ‡ ¶ ! ( , † § ? ( || * ] [ § ¡ ‘ ¡ , : , , †
§ ) , ? || * ] ? , § § ( ! ¡ ( , .† § † [ ‡ ! ) * ] [ : ? ] ||
Should this not be considered perfect, (though I suspect it would puzzle even the ingenious editor to detect its meaning, ) I shall give another method below, which I can show must be, and if I am successful I think you will do me the justice to admit that " human ingenuity" has contrived "a cipher which human ingenuity cannot resolve." I wish to be distinctly understood; the secret communication above, and the one following, are not intended to show that you have promised more than you can perform. I do not take up the gauntlet. Your challenge, I am happy to testify, has been more than amply redeemed. It is merely with an incidental remark of yours, that I am at present engaged, and my object is to show that however correct it may be generally, — it is not so universally.
Agreeably to a part of my foregoing definition, that cannot be a proper cryptograph, in which a single character is made to represent more than one letter. Let us for a moment see what would be the result if this was reversed, — that is, if more than one cipher were used for a single letter. In case each letter were represented by two different characters, (used alternately or at random, ) it is evident that while the certainty of reading such a composition correctly, by help of the key, would not be at all diminished, the difficulty of its solution without that help, would be vastly increased. This then is an approach to the formation of a secret cipher. If, now, the number of the characters were extended to three or four for each letter, it might be pronounced with tolerable certainty that such a writing would be "secret." Or, to take an extreme case, a communication might be made, in which no two characters would be alike! Here all reasoning would be entirely baffled, as there would evidently be no objects of comparison; and even if half a dozen words were known, they would furnish no clue to the rest. Here, then, is a complete non plus to investigation, and we have arrived at a perfect cryptograph. For, since any given cipher would stand for but one letter in the key, there could be but a single and definite solution; and thus both conditions of my definition are fully satisfied. In the following specimen of this method, I have employed the Roman-capital, small letter, and small capital, with their several inversions, giving me the command of 130 characters, or an average of five to each letter. This is to "make assurance doubly sure," for I am satisfied that were an average of three characters used for each letter, such a writing would be emphatically secret. If you will be so kind as to give my cipher a place in your interesting Magazine, I will immediately forward you its key. Hoping that you will not be displeased with my tedious letter,
I am most respectfully yours,
W. B. TYLER.
To EDGAR A. POE, Esq.
Underneath Tyler’s communication, Poe included a cordial rebuttal of his correspondent’s views:
"The difficulty attending the cipher by key-phrase, viz: that the same characters may convey various meanings — is a difficulty upon which we commented in our first article upon this topic, and more lately at greater length in a private letter to our friend, F. W. Thomas.
The key-phrase cryptograph is, in fact, altogether inadmissible. The labor requisite for its elucidation, even with the key, would, alone, render it so. Lord Bacon very properly defines three essentials in secret correspondence. It is required, first, that the cipher be such as to elude suspicion of being a cipher; secondly, that its alphabet be so simple of formation as to demand but little time in the construction of an epistle; thirdly, that it shall be absolutely insoluble without the key — we may add, fourthly, that, with the key, it be promptly and certainly decipherable.
Admitting, now, that the ingenious cryptograph proposed by our correspondent be absolutely what he supposes it, impenetrable, it would still, we think, be inadmissible on the first point above stated and more so on the second. But of its impenetrability we are by no means sure, notwithstanding what, at a cursory glance, appears to be the demonstration of the writer. In the key-phrase cipher an arbitrary character is sometimes made to represent five, six, seven, or even more letters. Our correspondent proposes merely to reverse the operation: — and this simple statement of the case will do more towards convincing him of his error than an elaborate argument, for which he would neither have time, nor our readers patience. In a key-phrase cryptograph, equally as in his own, each discovery is independent, not necessarily affording any clue to farther discovery. Neither is the idea of our friend, although highly ingenious, philosophical, and unquestionably original with him, (since he so assures us,) original in itself. It is one of the many systems tried by Dr. Wallis and found wanting. Perhaps no good cipher was ever invented which its originator did not conceive insoluble; yet, so far, no impenetrable cryptograph has been discovered. Our correspondent will be the less startled at this, our assertion, when he bears in mind that he who has been termed the ‘wisest of mankind’ — we mean Lord Verulam — was as confident of the absolute insolubility of his own mode as our present cryptographist is of his. What he said upon the subject in his De Augmentis was, at the day of its publication, considered unanswerable. Yet his cipher has been repeatedly unriddled. We may say, in addition, that the nearest approach to perfection in this matter, is the chiffre quarre of the French Academy. This consists of a table somewhat in the form of our ordinary multiplication tables, from which the secret to be conveyed is so written that no letter is ever represented twice by the same character. Out of a thousand individuals nine hundred and ninety-nine would at once pronounce this mode inscrutable. It is yet susceptible, under peculiar circumstances, of prompt and certain solution.
Mr. T. will have still less confidence in his hastily adopted opinions on this topic when we assure him, from personal experience, that what he says in regard to writing backwards and continuously without intervals between the words — is all wrong. So far from ‘utterly perplexing the decipherer,’ it gives him no difficulty, legitimately so called — merely taxing to some extent his patience. We refer him to the files of ‘Alexander's Weekly Messenger,’ for 1839 — where he will see that we read numerous ciphers of the class described, even when very ingenious additional difficulties were interposed. We say, in brief, that we should have little trouble in reading the one now proposed.
‘Here,’ says our friend, referring to another point, ‘all reasoning would be entirely baffled, as there would evidently be no objects of comparison.’ This sentence assures us that he is laboring under much error in his conception of cipher solutions. Comparison is a vast aid unquestionably; but not an absolute essential in the elucidation of these mysteries.
We need not say, however, that this object is an excessively wide one. Our friend will forgive us for not entering into details which would lead us — God knows whither. The ratiocination actually passing through the mind in the solution of even a single cryptograph, if detailed step by step, would fill a large volume. Our time is much occupied, and notwithstanding the limits originally placed to our cartel, we have found ourselves overwhelmed with communications on this subject, and must close it, perforce — deeply interesting as we find it. To this resolution we had arrived last month; but the calm and truly ingenious reasoning of our correspondent has induced us to say these few words more. We print his cipher — with no promise to attempt its solution ourselves — much as we feel inclined to make the promise — and to keep it. Some of our hundred thousand readers will, no doubt, take up the gauntlet thrown down; and our pages shall be open for any communication on the subject, which shall not tax our own abilities or time.”
So far as is known, Poe’s readers failed to “take up the gauntlet,” and the ciphers remained unsolved and forgotten until 1985, when Professor Louis Renza theorized that “W.B. Tyler” was really Poe himself, a suggestion based largely on the rather weak evidence that Renza had been unable to find documentation that Tyler actually existed. This claim was then championed by Shawn Rosenheim in his book “Cryptographic Imagination.” Rosenheim felt that Tyler’s letter was too similar to Poe’s own beliefs to be a mere coincidence, and he noted Poe’s known habit of anonymously publishing writings to and about himself. He also pointed out that Poe acknowledged that some of his readers suspected him of “writing ciphers to ourselves,” which Rosenheim chose to think was an indirect confession.
The hunt for “W.B. Tyler” was on. In 1992, Terence Whalen solved the first of Tyler’s ciphers, which was eventually found to be a quote from Joseph Addison’s 1713 play “Cato.” Rosenheim then established the “E.A. Poe Cryptographic Challenge,” offering a prize of $2500 to the first person to solve the second cipher. Despite this lure, the puzzle was not solved for six years, when a Canadian software engineer named Gil Broza finally submitted a correct decryption. (Broza also discovered that one of the reasons for the difficulty with solving the cipher was the fact that it had numerous mistakes made either by the typesetter or the encipherer himself.) The resulting text proved to still be something of a puzzle (errors in original):
“It was early spring, warm and sultry glowed the afternoon. The very breezes seemed to share the delicious langour of universal nature, are laden the various and mingled perfumes of the rose and the essaerne, the woodbine and its wildflower. They slowly wafted their fragrant offering to the open window where sat the lovers. The ardent sun shoot fell upon her blushing face and its gentle beauty was more like the creation of romance or the fair inspiration of a dream than the actual reality on earth. Tenderly her lover gazed upon her as the clusterous ringlets were edged by amorous and sportive zephyrs and when he perceived the rude intrusion of the sunlight he sprang to draw the curtain but softly she stayed him. ‘No, no, dear Charles,’ she softly said, ‘much rather you’ld I have a little sun than no air at all.’”
Rosenheim agreed that Poe did not actually compose this text (it is a variation of a popular punning joke—sun/son, air/heir—that made the rounds during the era,) but he maintained that the poet was the cipher’s author. He cited not only his belief that “its themes…are absolutely typical of Poe’s writing,” but Poe’s oddly discouraging comments about the Tyler ciphers. In 1842 he advised a reader named Richard Bolton to not even attempt to solve the codes “for the reason that it is merely type in pi or something near it. Being absent from the office for a short time, I did not see a proof, and the compositors have made a complete medley. It has not even a remote resemblance to the MS.” Rosenheim saw Poe’s efforts to exaggerate the errors in the ciphers as evidence of his authorship—although it is difficult to understand why Poe would wish others to ignore a puzzle he himself had created.
Considering Poe’s well-known predilection for hoaxes and multiple literary identities, the circumstantial evidence for his authorship of these ciphers has been considered compelling enough for many researchers to assume he was “W.B. Tyler.” (This presumption has inspired numerous hilariously overblown efforts to interpret these ciphered quotations as Poe’s “secret autobiography”—excellent examples of the fevered lengths scholars will go to in order to try and gain insights about the man.)
There are, however, some difficulties with the “hoax” theory. Author and professor Steven Rachman (who had originally endorsed Renza’s conclusions) discovered several contemporary poems by “W.B. Tyler”—evidently sappy verses that could hardly be considered as Poe’s work--in “Graham’s” and “Alexander’s Weekly Messenger.” I myself have found several nineteenth-century poems by a William Bartlett Tyler (whose name is sometimes also given as “W.B. Tyler.”) These poems are admittedly much later in date than the ones Rachman found, so this could be a different Tyler. However, it seems stretching coincidence to have two different American sentimental poets in that era with the same name.
Some have asked why Poe would spend his valuable time creating a fake persona in order to encrypt two utterly meaningless quotations that he never even bothered to decipher. Also, Poe already knew he was suspected of inventing all the ciphers he had solved, and his pride was clearly offended at the idea he had debased himself by mere “gaggery, or more deliberately speaking, of humbug.” As John A. Hodgson, a researcher who became increasingly unconvinced Poe was Tyler, wrote: “[Poe] was entirely capable of such tricks, but he had his standards.” Hodgson gave further evidence of Poe’s sincerity in the matter: “Among the ciphers submitted to Poe at Alexander’s was the one from a G.W. Kulp…that Poe nevertheless ‘demonstrated to be an imposition—that is to say, we fully proved it a jargon of random characters, having no meaning whatever.’ In his rigorous and even elegant proof of the cipher’s incoherence, Poe offered the fullest glimpse of his deciphering method that he would provide prior to ‘The Gold-Bug.’ Some 135 years later, however, a professor and student in a cryptology class reexamined Kulp’s cipher, found it worth pursuing, and were able to decode it with the help of some computer programs. Kulp, it seems, had indeed submitted ‘a genuine article’; but he had not been ciphering in entire good faith. Poe had clearly offered to solve simple (monoalphabetic) substitution ciphers, and had analyzed Kulp’s as such; but Kulp had in fact sent instead ‘a polyalphabetic substitution cipher working with 12 alphabets keyed by the [twelve letters of the] words ‘United States.’ Kulp’s imperfectly good faith as a cipherer, now revealed, antithetically demonstrates Poe’s genuinely good faith as a decipherer.”
Having said all that, there is still something very peculiar about the Tyler letter that suggests it contains a mystery that we do not realize even exists. The tone of the letter, as well as Poe’s strangely complimentary, but dismissive response, all gives off a certain sense of mockery towards the readers, of Poe enjoying a little private joke at our expense.
In short, is it possible that these trivial cipher messages were “red herrings,” distracting us from the fact that the important “coded message” is somehow embodied in the Tyler letter itself? Could that have been Poe’s real hoax?
We’ll probably never know. And that was very possibly Poe’s intention.
Monday, February 18, 2013
A Glimpse of Poe's Schooldays
The following appeared in the “(Troy) Kansas Chief” for Feb 19, 1880. It originally ran in the “Baltimore Bulletin” at a date unknown to me. Although Joseph H. Clarke shared a couple of other reminiscences of his most famous pupil that have often been quoted in Poe biographies, this interview, so far as I know, remains obscure. As I like to think of this blog as the place where weird old bits of Poeana go to die, I decided to post it.
Few Poe reminiscences are trustworthy, but those discussing his youth are probably the most uncertain and contradictory of the lot. This is not surprising—they were all given many years after the fact, and deal with a period when few had any reason to take particular note of the boy. Recorded memories of Poe’s childhood fall into one of two categories: Deliberately embellished, if not outright fabricated accounts designed to tell a good story rather than good history, or sincerely vague, poorly-remembered anecdotes.
Clarke falls into the latter category. He appears to have been an honest man, but unfortunately, no one thought to ask him about Poe until his old age, when he was, as this reporter stated with rather excessive frankness, “mentally feeble.” There are a couple of obvious whoppers in this interview—for instance, we know very few people attended Poe's funeral, and as a result the minister kept his remarks very short--but it is still of some interest, and I believe that, at least, Clarke gave his information as accurately as he could. That is certainly more than one can say about a good many people who talked about Poe.
EDGAR ALLAN POE
His Venerable Teacher Still Living in Baltimore—Interesting Reminiscences of the Poet
One of The Bulletin’s staff, a day or two ago, had the good fortune to have an interview with the venerable Joseph H. Clarke, now 89 years old, who was the preceptor of the poet, Edgar Allan Poe. In Eugene L. Didier's memoirs of Edgar Allan Poe, the following occurs: "On Mr. and Mrs. Allan's return from their two years' visit to England, Mr. Allan placed Poe in the academy of Prof. Joseph H. Clarke, of Trinity College, Dublin, who kept an English classical school at Richmond, from 1810 to 1825."
He greeted The Bulletin representative cordially, but it was plain to see that the aged man, although physically as many a man of thirty years his junior, had grown mentally feeble under the weight of many years. When the old gentleman was seated, the reporter explained that he wanted any reminiscences of Poe that he could give.
"Edgar, Edgar," said the old man, rising, with a far-away look, as memories of old times flitted through his mind. "Why, he was a born poet. One day Mr. Allan came to me and said: 'Mr. Clarke, I have heard much about your school and as Edgar shows a decided aptness for classics, I have decided to place him under your care.' This was about 1820 or ‘21, and Edgar entered my school. He became one of my most distinguished scholars. He and Nat. Howard were in the same class. Nat. was as good, if not better, than Edgar in the classics, but Nat. couldn't write poetry like Edgar could. Edgar was a poet in every sense of the word. One summer, at the end of the session, Nat. and Edgar both wrote me a complimentary letter. Nat's was written in Latin, after Horace, but Edgar's was written in poetry. I came to Baltimore that summer, and I showed those letters to Rev. Mr. Damphoux. of St. Mary's College, and what do you think he said ? “Mr. Clarke, those compositions would do honor and credit to the best educated professor in my college.' Oh, yes, Edgar was a poet, and he wasn't over twelve or fourteen when he wrote that letter to me."
"Did you keep it? have you it now?" the reporter asked, eagerly.
“No, no," the old gentleman answered sadly; “I returned it to Edgar. One day, after I had come to Baltimore from Richmond, Edgar came to visit me. I told him about the letters, and Edgar rose and said, with such a strange, yearning look in his eyes: 'You couldn't do Nat. Howard and me a greater favor than to return us those letters. I think Nat. would like to have his, and I am sure I would give worlds to have mine.' I gave them to him.”
"Then you have no memento of Poe?”
The old man sadly answered, "No, sir; that's one thing I always regretted, not having kept some of Edgar's notes or poems. But then, you know, I couldn't tell at that time that Edgar would ever be a great man."
"Wasn't Poe a very handsome boy, Professor?”
"Well, he had very pretty eyes and hair, and rather an effeminate face, but I don't think he was a beautiful boy. He had a very sweet disposition. He was always cheerful, brimful of mirth, and a very great favorite with his schoolmates. I never had occasion to say a harsh word to him while he was in my school, much less to make him do penance."
"Did he study very hard?"
"No; he was not remarkable for his application. He was naturally very smart, and he always knew his lessons. He had a great deal of pride."
"Did you ever see Mary [sic] Poe, Edgar's little sister?”
"Yes; she was adopted by Mr. McKenzie when Mr. Allan took Edgar."
"Was she pretty?"
"Well, really, I can't remember very well, but I think she was a very sweet and interesting child."
"You saw Poe, after you left Richmond, of course?"
"Yes; when he came to Baltimore, and stopped at the tavern, he would never forget to come and see me."
"Do you believe that your pupil was a habitual drunkard?”
"That I can't tell. I think he was fond of wine, and I know that I always opened a bottle for him when he came to see me; but then it was the custom of the age, you know, to drink wine at that time. Then, when Edgar became editor of Graham's Magazine, he sent it to me regularly, gratis."
"Was he affectionate to you, Professor?"
"Yes, indeed; I think the boy and man loved me dearly, and I am sure I loved him."
"When was the last time you saw him?"
"When he was laid away to rest, in 1849. I went to his funeral. A large number of persons were present, and, I remember, the minister who officiated dwelt long on the great man's virtues. Yes," he concluded, "Edgar, as a boy, was a dear, open-hearted, cheerful, and good boy, and as a man, he was a loving and affectionate friend to me."
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