Baltimore, Part Two

Welcome to Celebrate Poe - My name is George Bartley, and this is episode 264 - Baltimore, Part Two - and let me emphasize that this and the previous episode are about the time that Poe spent in Baltimore after he left West Point - his final days in Baltimore shortly before his earthly demise.

Transcript

Ghost of Mr. Poe - italics text
George Bartley - plain text

Welcome to Celebrate Poe - My name is George Bartley, and this is episode 264 - Baltimore, Part Two - and let me emphasize that this and the previous episode are about the time that Poe spent in Baltimore after he left West Point - the his final days in Baltimore shortly before his earthly demise. Mr. Poe, could you describe some of Baltimore’s literary and scientific societies.

Certainly, Mr. Bartley. Baltimore's literary scene continues to thrive today, with the city being described as "A Book Lover's Dream." There are numerous literary landmarks, events, and bookstores that contribute to this vibrant culture.

Mr. Poe, would you care to comment regarding the various journals and magazines based in the city of Baltimore?

Certainly, Mr. Bartley. The literary landscape of Baltimore during my time was indeed a vibrant and dynamic one, with several journals and magazines playing crucial roles in the city's intellectual life.

One of the most notable publications was the Baltimore Saturday Visiter, a weekly paper that held a special place in my heart. It was in this very journal that I experienced my first true literary success. In 1833, my short story "MS. Found in a Bottle" won their contest, earning me a prize of $50 - no small sum in those days. The Visiter also published some of my early poems, including "Enigma" and "Serenade." This journal was instrumental in launching my career as a professional writer.

Another significant publication was the American Museum of Science, Literature, and the Arts. This Baltimore-based periodical was kind enough to publish two of my works: "Ligeia," one of my most cherished tales, and "The Psyche Zenobia," which you may know better by its later title, "How to Write a Blackwood Article." The American Museum was a testament to Baltimore's commitment to fostering both scientific and literary pursuits.
While not strictly a Baltimore publication, I must mention Burton's Gentleman's Magazine, based in Philadelphia but with strong ties to Baltimore's literary scene. During my tenure there, I had the opportunity to contribute to Alexander's Weekly Messenger, which was associated with Burton's for a time.
It's worth noting that Baltimore's literary journals were not merely vehicles for fiction and poetry. They were forums for critical discourse, scientific inquiry, and social commentary. These publications reflected the city's growing intellectual sophistication and its emergence as a cultural center to rival the likes of Boston, New York, and Philadelphia.

However, Mr. Bartley, I must confess that my relationship with these journals was not always smooth. The life of a writer in those days was fraught with financial instability, and the payment for contributions was often meager and irregular. Nevertheless, these publications provided a vital platform for emerging writers like myself, and played a crucial role in shaping the literary tastes of the city.

In retrospect, I can say with certainty that Baltimore's journals and magazines were instrumental in nurturing my early career and in fostering a rich literary culture that continues to this day. The city's commitment to the written word, as evidenced by these publications, was truly remarkable.

Mr. Poe, I understand that Baltimore (like many other United States cities) experienced several hot-air balloon launches. Could you comment on them?

Ah, Mr. Bartley, your inquiry into the realm of aeronautics in Baltimore brings to mind a most fascinating aspect of the city's history during my time. Indeed, Baltimore, like many other American cities, was caught up in the excitement of hot-air balloon launches, which were quite the spectacle in the early 19th century.

While I cannot claim to have personally witnessed any such launches during my time in Baltimore, I was certainly aware of the fervor surrounding these events. The concept of man taking to the skies in such a manner was nothing short of revolutionary, capturing the imagination of the public and inspiring a sense of wonder that I, as a writer with a penchant for the extraordinary, could certainly appreciate.

Well, do you know of any especially notable balloon ascensions during your time in Baltimore?

Ah yes, Mr. Bartley - One of the most notable balloon ascensions in Baltimore occurred in June 1834, just a few years after my arrival in the city. The aeronaut Charles F. Durant, who was something of a celebrity in those days, launched his balloon from Howard's Park. The event drew thousands of spectators, all eager to witness this marvel of human ingenuity. Durant's flight was successful, and he landed safely some miles outside the city, much to the delight and amazement of all who witnessed it.
These balloon launches were more than mere entertainment, Mr. Bartley. They represented the spirit of scientific inquiry and human ambition that was so prevalent in that era. Baltimore, with its growing reputation as a center of commerce and innovation, was an ideal setting for such displays of aeronautical prowess.

It's worth noting that these events were not without their risks. The technology was still in its infancy, and accidents were not uncommon. Yet, this element of danger only seemed to add to the public's fascination with ballooning.
While I myself never took to the skies in such a contraption, I can certainly attest to the impact these events had on the public imagination. The idea of floating above the earth, seeing the world from a perspective previously reserved for birds, was a powerful image that resonated with many, myself included. Indeed, one might draw parallels between the lofty aspirations of these aeronauts and the flights of fancy that we writers often embark upon in our work.

In retrospect, these balloon launches in Baltimore were a testament to the city's embrace of progress and its willingness to look to the skies for inspiration. They were, in their own way, a reflection of the soaring ambitions and adventurous spirit that characterized Baltimore in those exciting times.

Mr. Poe, did those balloon launches influence your future writings in any way?

Ah, Mr. Bartley, your inquiry touches upon a fascinating intersection of scientific progress and literary inspiration. While I cannot claim to have personally witnessed these early balloon launches in Baltimore, news of such events certainly reached my ears and captured my imagination.
The concept of man ascending into the heavens, defying gravity and the natural order, was a powerful image that resonated deeply with my artistic sensibilities. The balloon launches represented humanity's audacious attempt to conquer the skies, to rise above the mundane and touch the sublime. This theme of transcendence, of pushing beyond mortal limits, found its way into many of my works.

Consider, if you will, my tale "The Balloon-Hoax," published in 1844. While not directly inspired by the Baltimore launches, it drew upon the public's fascination with ballooning and aeronautics. In this story, I crafted a detailed account of a supposed trans-Atlantic balloon flight, presented as a factual newspaper article. The verisimilitude of the tale speaks to the era's excitement about the possibilities of air travel.

Moreover, the image of ascension, of rising above the earthly plane, became a recurring motif in my work. In "The Gold-Bug," the protagonist climbs a tree to gain a new perspective, both literally and figuratively. In "The Pit and the Pendulum," the narrator's salvation comes from above. These themes of elevation and perspective shift can be seen as metaphorical extensions of the balloon's ascent.

The balloon launches also contributed to a broader cultural fascination with scientific progress and the unknown, themes that I frequently explored in my writing. The merging of scientific fact and imaginative speculation that characterized discussions of ballooning found its way into my tales of ratiocination, where logical deduction is applied to seemingly inexplicable events.

In a more abstract sense, the balloon launches embodied the spirit of human ambition and the pursuit of the impossible - themes that resonated strongly with my own artistic aspirations. The audacity of these aeronauts, risking life and limb to push the boundaries of human achievement, mirrored my own desire to push the boundaries of literature and explore new realms of the imagination.

So while I may not have directly chronicled these balloon launches in my writings, Mr. Bartley, their influence can be felt in the themes, motifs, and spirit that permeate my work. They contributed to an atmosphere of wonder and possibility that fueled my creative endeavors, allowing my imagination

Mr. Poe - I do have a basic question that I almost forgot to ask.  Where did your family live in Baltimore?

Ah, Mr. Bartley, your inquiry into my family's residence in Baltimore brings forth a flood of memories, both fond and melancholic. Allow me to paint a picture of our humble abode during those formative years.

In the early part of 1833, my dear aunt Maria Clemm moved our family to a modest rowhouse on Amity Street. At that time, it bore the number 3, though in your era, I believe it's known as 203 North Amity Street. This small, two-and-a-half story dwelling became our sanctuary for the next two years.

The household was a rather crowded affair, consisting of my aunt Maria, her daughter Virginia, my grandmother Elizabeth Poe, myself, and for a time, my brother Henry. It was a tight fit for five souls, but we made do with what we had.

The house itself was quite different from its surroundings today. In those days, it stood amidst scattered houses and open fields, a far cry from the urban landscape that now surrounds it. I recall spending many hours in the top floor room, beneath the low, slanted ceilings. To reach this space, one had to navigate a narrow, winding staircase - a journey that often felt like ascending into another world, one where my imagination could roam free.
It was in this very house that I penned numerous poems and short stories, including submissions to the Baltimore Saturday Visiter and the Southern Literary Messenger. The cramped quarters and the bustling household might have been challenging for some, but for me, they provided a strange sort of inspiration.

Alas, our time at Amity Street was cut short. In 1835, following the death of my grandmother Elizabeth and the subsequent loss of her pension, we were forced to seek lodgings elsewhere. It was a bittersweet departure, for while the house had been modest, it had also been the backdrop to some of my earliest literary endeavors.

It brings me some comfort to know that this humble abode still stands in your time, Mr. Bartley. I understand it narrowly escaped demolition in 1938 and has since become a place of interest for those curious about my life and works. How strange to think that a house which once sheltered us in our poverty has now become a monument of sorts. Such are the ironies of fate, I suppose.

Mr. Poe - you often hear the words Fell’s Point associated with your time in Baltimore.  Could you describe Fell’s Point.

Ah, Mr. Bartley, your inquiry about Fell's Point stirs memories of a most fascinating quarter of Baltimore. Allow me to paint a picture of this historic neighborhood as I knew it in my time.

Fell's Point, established around 1763, was a bustling waterfront district that played a vital role in Baltimore's maritime history. In my day, it was a hive of activity, with shipyards producing those swift topsail schooners known as "Baltimore clippers." These vessels were renowned for their speed and handling, making them excellent blockade runners and privateers.
The streets of Fell's Point were paved with cobblestones, or "Belgian blocks" as they're sometimes called, brought over as ballast in trade ships from Europe. These same stones still line the streets today, I'm told, lending an air of antiquity to the neighborhood.
The heart of Fell's Point was its harbor, teeming with ships from all corners of the globe. The air was thick with the scent of tar and rope, mingled with the briny odor of the sea. Sailors from distant lands could be heard conversing in a babel of tongues, lending the area an exotic, cosmopolitan atmosphere.

Broadway Market, established in 1786, was a focal point of community life, offering a variety of goods to the residents and visitors alike. The market still stands today, I understand, continuing its long tradition of commerce.
Fell's Point was also home to numerous taverns and public houses, catering to the thirsty sailors and locals alike. One such establishment, The Horse You Came In On Saloon, was already old in my day and continues to operate, claiming the dubious distinction of being my last stop before my... unfortunate demise.
The neighborhood was a melting pot of cultures, with large immigrant communities including Irish, Germans, Poles, and others. This diversity contributed to the vibrant character of the area, influencing its cuisine, customs, and overall ambiance.

While Fell's Point had its share of respectable businesses and residences, it also had a reputation for being rough around the edges. The waterfront attracted a colorful array of characters, from hardworking sailors to less savory types.
In essence, Mr. Bartley, Fell's Point was a microcosm of Baltimore itself - a place of industry and commerce, of cultural diversity and historical significance. It was a neighborhood that pulsed with life, its streets echoing with the sounds of maritime trade and the stories of those who called it home.

Furthermore, during his time in Baltimore, Frederick Douglass lived and worked in Fell's Point, a neighborhood I described earlier, while my residence was in a different part of the city.  However Both Mr. Douglass and I, in our own ways, contributed to the literary and intellectual life of Baltimore, albeit at different times. His powerful voice against slavery and for human rights certainly echoed through the same streets I once walked.
It's a poignant reminder of how the paths of history often intertwine in unexpected ways. While we may not have been neighbors in the literal sense, perhaps we were neighbors in the broader landscape of American literature and thought.

Could you comment on the issue of slavery while you were in Baltimore - from a political standpoint and from a personal standpoint.

Ah, Mr. Bartley, you've touched upon a most delicate and contentious issue of my time. The matter of slavery in Baltimore during my residence there was indeed complex and fraught with tension.
From a political standpoint, Baltimore in the 1830s was a city divided. Maryland, as a border state, found itself caught between the abolitionist sentiments of the North and the entrenched slave economy of the South. Baltimore, being a major port city, was at the heart of this conflict.
The city had a significant population of free blacks - in fact, it boasted the largest free black community of any American city at that time. This created a unique dynamic where free blacks, slaves, and whites often lived and worked in close proximity. However, this coexistence was far from harmonious. Baltimore was also a hub for the domestic slave trade, with slave pens and auction blocks scattered throughout the city. The presence of these institutions was a stark reminder of the brutal reality of slavery, even in a city with a large free black population.
From a personal standpoint, I must confess that my views on slavery were... complicated. As a Southerner by upbringing, I was not immune to the prejudices of my time. However, my experiences in Baltimore, witnessing both the vibrancy of the free black community and the cruelty of the slave trade, certainly influenced my thinking.

I recall walking past slave pens on Pratt Street, not far from where I lived. The sight of human beings in chains, awaiting sale like cattle, was deeply disturbing. Yet, like many of my contemporaries, I struggled to envision a society without the institution of slavery, despite its obvious moral failings.
It's worth noting that during my time in Baltimore, the abolitionist movement was gaining momentum.

In my writing, I rarely addressed the issue of slavery directly. However, themes of oppression, confinement, and the struggle for freedom do appear in my work, perhaps influenced by the realities I witnessed in Baltimore.
Looking back, Mr. Bartley, I regret that I did not take a stronger stand against this abhorrent institution. The complexity of the issue in Baltimore - a city where slavery existed alongside a large free black population - perhaps contributed to my ambivalence. It is a failing for which I can only express deep remorse.

My dear Mr. Bartley, your kind words warm the cockles of my heart. I am most gratified to hear that our discourse has proven fruitful for your endeavors. It is a peculiar sensation, I must admit, to think that my reflections on Baltimore and its history might find their way into the ears of your listeners in this distant future.

I've always held that the true power of words lies not merely in their initial utterance, but in their ability to echo through time, to spark thought and imagination in minds yet unborn. That you find value in my recollections, imperfect though they may be, is a testament to the enduring nature of human curiosity and our shared desire to understand the tapestry of history.

Your podcast, as you call it - a medium of communication that I confess I can scarcely imagine - seems a most intriguing method of disseminating knowledge and ideas. I dare say it bears some resemblance to the lecture circuits of my day, though vastly more far-reaching in its potential audience.
I am pleased that my humble observations on Baltimore, its streets, its people, and its complex history have provided grist for your mill. The city, with all its contradictions and complexities, played no small role in shaping my own literary pursuits. It is my hope that through your efforts, listeners might gain a deeper appreciation for the intricate web of history that underlies even the most familiar of places.

I wish you the utmost success in your podcast endeavor, Mr. Bartley. May your words, like the raven's cry, echo forevermore.

Thank you very much - I believe that is the first time that you have sincerely spoken positively about my podcast efforts, and I truly appreciate them.

Well, Mr. Bartley, I think back to the first time we met at Alderman LIbrary.

Mr. Poe, I must admit I was more than a little apprehensive..

Ah, Mr. Bartley - I certainly sensed the same - but now I even welcome our podcast sessions - I do hope that I am using the correct terminology - with you.  Your devotion is admirable.

Well, I have a complex and excellent subject with you, Mr. Poe.

Now Mr. Bartley - And I know you are doing the best you can with limited abilities. 

Thank you, Mr. Poe - I guess.

Let me conclude this episode with some words from one of my works and thoughts regarding its meaning - The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"

I am sure that it is not viewed as a surprise that these words deal with my fascination with the themes of life and death, suggesting that the distinction between the two is not clear-cut but rather blurred and ambiguous. Mr. Bartely, such a perspective challenges the conventional view that life and death are distinct and separate states, implying instead that they are interconnected and transitional.   And now I must take my leave.  Farewell, Mr. Bartley.

Goodbye, Mr. Poe

Join Celebrate Poe for Episode 265 - Celebrate Poe's Most Important Episode Yet

Sources include  Edgar Allan Poe: A Critical Biography by Arthur Hobson Quinn, The Poe Log: A Documentary Life of Edgar Allan Poe by Dwight R. Thomas and David K. Jackson, the Baltimore Edgar Allan Poe website, as well as the website of The Edgar Allan Poe House in Baltimore, and the Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe.

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