The State of the Condenser

Posted by Dave

Things have been pretty quiet around here lately. We're very happy to report, however, that this has less to do with bloggers' malaise and more to do with the fact that the Condenser's two core contributors, Dave and Meg, are engaged! Posting will therefore be sporadic at best until November, when our lives will hopefully return to some degree of equilibrium. In the meantime, we'll try to post when we can.

Here's a very entertaining Talk of the Town article from the New Yorker on a presentation of famous marginalia at the New York Public Library - enjoy!

Antiquarian Book Fair This Weekend

Posted by Dave

Just a reminder that the New York Antiquarian Book Fair started today, and tomorrow we'll be visiting and posting our thoughts on our Twitter feed - just follow @condensermag.

For a cool searchable database of sellers' wares, click here. It's where we discovered the intriguing-sounding 1621 tome The Anatomy of Melancholy: What it is. With all the Kindes Causes Symptomes Prognosticks and several Cures of it...., available for a paltry $45,000 from Thomas A Goldwasser Rare Books. The text itself is available on Google Books here, but it's just not the same when read through a computer screen, is it?


For more info on the show, you can visit this site.

Aleister Crowley in Billboard Magazine

Posted by Dave

Today's post isn't even long enough to warrant transcription, so we'll simply include an image of the text. We're not sure why Crowley's obituary would have appeared in Billboard in the first place - perhaps just a careless misunderstanding regarding his use of the word "magician"? Who knows; maybe Crowley was sawing women in half on the Vegas Strip on the side.

Peacocks on the Strand

Posted by Dave

The classic bon mot mentioned in the excerpt below would be worth pointing out on its own merits, but even more so considering that it was spoken by a figure who frequent readers of this blog will recognize as the charismatic perpetrator of the infamous Berners Street Hoax. Taken from "Week-Day Living, a Book for Young Men and Women" (1882) by Samuel Pearson.

Image of Hook via Wikipedia

I HAVE sometimes wondered whether men or women were more vain in matters of dress. At certain periods of life it is quite common to see a young fellow strutting along the street as proud as any peacock. Theodore Hook met such a one in the Strand, and stopping him, asked with an impressive air, "Excuse me, sir, but are you any one in particular?" Such a question has often crossed my mind when I have sauntered along some fashionable lounge. The unexceptionable attire, from the crown of the hat to the sole of the patent leather boots, the band-box associations which clung round the whole get-up, the enormous outlay of starch suggested—these things would be startling if they were not ridiculous.

April Fool's Day

Posted by Dave

An appropriate post for April Fool's day, as well as an interesting reminder of the mostly forgotten Fast Day holiday that was once observed across New England - taken from "Curiosities of Popular Customs and of Rites, Ceremonies, Observances, and Miscellaneous Antiquities" (1897) by William Shepard Walsh.

There is a story current that one April the governor, in the absence of his secretary, intrusted the drawing up of a Fast-Day proclamation to his messenger. The latter, being a bit of a wag, instead of penning a stately and pious document, wrote out the following:

"Having consulted my Council and learned that none of them has an engagement to dine on that day, and feeling fully assured that I shall receive no invitation to dine out until the high school graduating exercises begin and field strawberries get down to eight cents a quart, I do hereby appoint Thursday, the 17th day of April, as a day of public humiliation, fasting, and prayer. While the scoffers in our sister State are holding horse-races, playing base-ball, and gorging themselves with forbidden food, let us thank our stars that we know when we have enough, and feel grateful for the empty stomachs and clear heads we shall have the morning after. Though I am unable to say what the Council will do on that day, for myself I shall attend church if I can find a minister who will stay long enough to preach to me. Given in the Council chamber," etc.

The messenger, having made a rough draught, copied it on a new sheet in an engrossing clerk's handwriting, and took it to the governor, who signed it without reading a line. From here the messenger carried the proclamation down to the secretary of state, who tried to affix his signature, but could not do so on account of a bad pen. While he waited for a clerk to bring him a box of new pens he cast his eyes down the sheet, discovered the unusual phraseology, and read the document from beginning to end. Then he gave the messenger apiece of his mind, telling him it was bad enough to make light of Fast-Day, but when he began to trifle with the feelings of the chief magistrate, who was also commander-in-chiuf of the army, no State could endure such an outrage The messenger argued that it was nothing but an April joke, and the bigger the man it hit the better the joke was. This remark led the secretary to look at his calendar, and when he found it was April 1 he forgave the messenger, who retained his job through the administration.

The 50th Annual New York Antiquarian Bookfair

Posted by Dave

Spring is upon us, and we find our thoughts turning to The New York Antiquarian Bookfair. It's the 50th anniversary of the fair this year, and it'll be at the Park Avenue Armory from April 9-11th. About 200 vendors will be present, with offerings covering every corner of bibliophilia.
Personally, we're particularly looking forward to seeing Vladimir Mayakovsky's "New Measures," a work printed on six Soviet caramel wrappers.

We'll be making use of our Twitter account during the show, so make sure to follow us @CondenserMag to get updates and see our thoughts from the floor.

For more info on the show, you can visit this site.

Fern Seeds; their Uses in Discovering Buried Treasure

Posted by Dave

From The Gentleman's Magazine (collected volumes of 1907) comes an entertaining overview of European superstitions associated with fern seeds, including a daunting ritual for gathering them. For the really, er, practical uses of the seeds, make sure to click through.

Image of a treasure-hunter via Wikipedia

A belief lingers in most parts of Europe regarding the virtues of fern-seed gathered on Midsummer Eve. Our ancestors thought it could only be found on that night, and said that, as it was so small as to be almost imperceptible, it gave the power of becoming invisible, a superstition mentioned by Shakespeare and other Elizabethan dramatists. For instance, Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Fair Maid of the Inn, mention " the herb that gives invisibility." The custom of going to gather fern-seed at midnight on Midsummer Eve is not quite extinct yet in some parts of our Isles, but nowadays it is rather observed as a bit of fun than from any faith in its mystic powers. Those who go to seek the seed are to start alone, and time themselves so as to arrive at the ferns by twelve o'clock. They must on no account turn their heads, no matter what they may see or hear en route, and the spirits of the wood and heath were formerly said to do all in their power to induce them to turn, placing obstacles in their path, and whisking round their heads, as Aubrey asserted that the elves did to a person who went to gather fern-seed in the West Country in his time.

Reaching the cluster of fronds from which they mean to gather the seed, they should hold a white napkin, paper, plate or box, under the fronds till midnight tolls out from the village belfry, and at that moment the seed is said to fall of its own accord into the plate or cloth, but the frond must not be shaken or even touched. On the way home the fairies will try to throw the bold mortal down, so that the treasure may be lost. And often when he has reached home in safety, it has been found that the packet was empty—not very surprising, when we think how minute the fern-seed is!

One story is that, precisely at midnight on Midsummer Eve, the ferns put forth a blue flower, which ripens at once into the magic seed, and the mortal who sees this event may obtain his heart's desire, and have the power of finding buried treasure and precious minerals. In the Tyrol fern seed is said to shine like gold on St. John's Eve, and those who gather it can discover treasure by scattering the seed on the ground, when fiery lines, will mark the spot where the precious ore lies. In Russia, too, people go on St. John's Eve to look for the azure blossom of the Paparot, or fern, for the finder can ever afterwards do exactly as he likes. Grimm says that at Thiers the fern gathered at midnight on St. John's Eve is thought to bring luck at play, a superstition connected in Ireland with a four-leaved shamrock gathered on St. Patrick's Day. In England, Wales, and the Isle of Man the fern which produced this marvellous seed was said to be the common male or shield fern, but in the Green Isle the magic species is "the fairy-fern," the pretty asplenium tricomanes, which is thought to be a special favourite with "the good people."

But did they figure on the Japanese?

Posted by Dave

A paragraph that would make the engineers at GM, Tesla and Fisker swell with pride, were it not written over 100 years ago. From Appletons' Popular Science Monthly (collected volumes of 1900).

In so far as artistic effect is concerned, our manufacturers of
electric vehicles have little to learn from Europeans, although the
industry here is much younger than abroad. As to the operative merits, all that can be said is that the American carriages run so well and possess such endurance that it is probable that they are not second to any in these respects.

Image of an early American electric car taken from the same article.

The Great Berners Street Hoax

Posted by Dave

From The Handy-Book of Literary Curiosities (William S. Walsh, 1893), an account of a well-turned practical joke. Make sure to click through for the full item.

Image at left, of an unrelated agitation, courtesy of this site.

Theodore Hook was a famous practical joker, and once, at least, he perpetrated a jest that disturbed all London and amused all England. This was the famous Berners Street hoax. Berners Street in 1810 was a quiet street, inhabited by well-to-do families, and even people of social importance, as the Bishops of Carlisle and of Chester, Earl Stanhope, etc. On the morning of November 26, soon after breakfast, a wagon-load of coals drew up before the door of Mrs. Tottingham, a widow lady living at No. 54. A van-load of furniture followed, then a hearse with a coffin, and a train of mourning coaches. Two fashionable physicians, a dentist, and an accoucheur drove up as near as they could to the door, wondering why so many lumbering vehicles blocked the way. Six men brought a great chamber-organ; a brewer sent several barrels of ale; a grocer sent a cart-load of potatoes. Coachmakers, clock-makers, carpet-manufacturers, confectioners, wig-makers, mantuamakers, opticians, and curiosity-dealers followed with samples of their wares.


From all quarters trooped in coachmen, footmen, cooks, housemaids, and nursery-maids, in quest of situations. To crown all, dignitaries came in their carriages,—the Commander-in-Chief, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lord Chief Justice, a Cabinet minister, a governor of the Bank of England, and the Lord Mayor. The latter—one among many who speedily recognized that all had been the victims of some gigantic hoax—drove to Marlborough Street police-office, and stated that he had received a letter from a lady in Berners Street, to the effect that she had been summoned to attend at the Mansion House, that she was at death's door, that she wished to make a deposition upon oath, and that she would deem it a great favor if his lordship would call upon her. The other dignitaries had been appealed to in a similar way. Police-officers were despatched to maintain order in Berners Street. They found it choked up with vehicles, jammed and interlocked one with another. The drivers were infuriated. The disappointed tradesmen were clamoring for vengeance. Some of the vans and goods were overturned and broken; a few barrels of ale had fallen a prey to the large crowd that was maliciously enjoying the fun. All day and far into the night this state of things continued, meanwhile, the old lady and the inmates of adjoining houses were in abject terror. Every one soon saw that a hoax had been perpetrated, but Hook's connection with it was not discovered till long afterwards. He had noticed the quietness of the neighborhood, and had laid a wager with a brother-wag, a certain Henry Higginson, who afterwards became a clergyman, that he would make Uerners Street the talk of all London. A door-plate had furnished him with Mrs. Tottingham's name, and he had spent three days in writing the letters which brought the crowd to her door. At the appointed time he and Mr. Higginson had posted themselves in a lodging just opposite, which he had rented for the purpose of enjoying the scene. He deemed it expedient, however, to go off quickly into the country and there remain incog, for a time. Had he been publicly known as the author of the outrageous hoax, he might have fared badly.

Obscura Day

Posted by Dave

Our friends over at Atlas Obscura have undertaken the herculean task of organizing a global event on March 20th that they're calling, naturally, Obscura Day. On what we can only hope will soon be declared a national holiday, Obscura enthusiasts from around the globe will flock to locations of mystery and interest in their home cities for special tours, lectures and socializing.
A staggering number of cities and towns are included, so you're sure to find something exciting right in your own back yard - here's the link you've been waiting for: Obscura Day
If you choose to take the morning tour of the Atlantic Avenue subway tunnel in Brooklyn, you may even find yourself spelunking alongside a Condenser contributor or two...