Growth of the Text: "The Man That Was Used Up"

This page 1 Evening Post (New York) advertisement shows “Used Up” positioned as the premiere tale for the upcoming edition of Burton’s, cited after the analysis of an engraving and a bit of poetry:

Publication Date	Text
Burton's Gentleman's Magazine, 1839	THE MAN THAT WAS USED UP. A TALE OF THE LATE BUGABOO AND KICKAPOO CAMPAIGN. ——— BY EDGAR A. POE. ———
Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque, 1841	THE MAN THAT WAS USED UP. A TALE OF THE LATE BUGABOO AND KICKAPOO CAMPAIGN.
Prose Romances, 1843	THE MAN THAT WAS USED UP. A TALE OF THE LATE BUGABOO AND KICKAPOO CAMPAIGN. ——— Pleurez, pleurez, mes yeux, et fondez vous en eaux — La moitié de ma vie a mis l’autre au tombeau. Corneille. ———
Broadway Journal, 1845	The Man That Was Used Up. A TALE OF THE LATE BUGABOO AND KICKAPOO CAMPAIGN. Pleurez, pleurez, mes yeux, et fondez vous en eau! La moitié de ma vie a mis l’ autre au tombeau. CORNEILLE
Reading text	THE MAN THAT WAS USED UP. A TALE OF THE LATE BUGABOO AND KICKAPOO CAMPAIGN. ——— Pleurez, pleurez, mes yeux, et fondez vous en eaux — La moitié de ma vie a mis l’autre au tombeau. Corneille. ———
Burton's Gentleman's Magazine, 1839	I CANNOT just now remember when or where I first made the acquaintance of that truly fine-looking fellow, Brevet Brigadier General John A. B. C. Smith. Some one did introduce me to the gentleman, I am sure — at some public meeting, I know very well — held about something of great importance, no doubt — and at some place or other, of this I feel convinced — whose name I have unaccountably forgotten. The truth is — that the introduction was attended, upon my part, with a degree of anxious and tremulous embarrassment which operated to prevent any definite impressions of either time or place. I am constitutionally nervous — this, with me, is a family failing, and I can’t help it. In especial, the slightest appearance of mystery — of any point I cannot exactly comprehend — puts me at once into a pitiable state of agitation.
Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque, 1841	I CANNOT just now remember when or where I first made the acquaintance of that truly fine-looking fellow, Brevet Brigadier General John A. B. C. Smith. Some one did introduce me to the gentleman, I am sure — at some public meeting, I know very well — held about something of great importance, no doubt — and at some place or other, of this I feel convinced — whose name I have unaccountably forgotten. The truth is — that the introduction was attended, upon my part, with a degree of anxious and tremulous embarrassment which operated to prevent any definite impressions of either time or place. I am constitutionally nervous — this, with me, is a family failing, and I can’t help it. In especial, the slightest appearance of mystery — of any point I cannot exactly comprehend — puts me at once into a pitiable state of agitation.
Prose Romances, 1843	I CANNOT just now remember when or where I first made the acquaintance of that truly fine-looking fellow, Brevet Brigadier General John A. B. C. Smith. Some one did introduce me to the gentleman, I am sure; — at some public meeting, I know very well; — held about something of great importance, no doubt; — and at some place or other, of this I feel convinced — the name of which I have stupidly forgotten. The truth is that the introduction was attended, upon my part, with a degree of anxious and tremulous embarrassment which operated to prevent any definite impressions of either time or place. I am constitutionally nervous; — this, with me, is a family failing, and I can’t help it. In especial, the slightest appearance of mystery — of any point I cannot exactly comprehend — puts me at once into a pitiable state of agitation.
Broadway Journal, 1845	I CANNOT just now remember when or where I first made the acquaintance of that truly fine-looking fellow, Brevet Brigadier General John A. B. C. Smith. Some one did introduce me to the gentleman, I am sure — at some public meeting, I know very well — held about something of great importance, no doubt — at some place or other, I feel convinced, — whose name I have unaccountably forgotten. The truth is — that the introduction was attended, upon my part, with a degree of anxious embarrassment which operated to prevent any definite impressions of either time or place. I am constitutionally nervous — this, with me, is a family failing, and I can’t help it. In especial, the slightest appearance of mystery — of any point I cannot exactly comprehend — puts me at once into a pitiable state of agitation.
Reading text	I CANNOT just now remember when or where I first made the acquaintance of that truly fine-looking fellow, Brevet Brigadier General John A. B. C. Smith. Some one did introduce me to the gentleman, I am sure — at some public meeting, I know very well — held about something of great importance, no doubt — and at some place or other, of this I feel convinced the name of which I have stupidly \| whose name I have unaccountably forgotten. The truth is — that the introduction was attended, upon my part, with a degree of anxious and tremulous embarrassment which operated to prevent any definite impressions of either time or place. I am constitutionally nervous — this, with me, is a family failing, and I can’t help it. In especial, the slightest appearance of mystery — of any point I cannot exactly comprehend — puts me at once into a pitiable state of agitation.
Burton's Gentleman's Magazine, 1839	There was something, as it were, remarkable — yes, remarkable, although this is but a feeble term to express my full meaning — about the entire individuality of the personage in question. What this something was, however, I found it impossible to say. He was, perhaps, six feet in height, and of a presence singularly commanding. There was an air distingué pervading the whole man, which spoke of high breeding, and hinted at high birth. Upon this topic — the topic of Smith's personal appearance — I have a kind of melancholy satisfaction in being minute. His head of hair would have done honor to a Brutus — nothing could be more richly flowing, or possess a brighter gloss. It was of a jetty black — which was also the color, or more properly the no color, of his unimaginable whiskers. You perceive I cannot speak of these latter without enthusiasm; it is not too much to say that they were the handsomest pair of whiskers under the sun. At all events, they encircled, and at times partially overshadowed, a mouth utterly unequalled. Here were the most entirely even, and the most brilliantly white of all conceivable teeth. From between them, upon every proper occasion, issued a voice of surpassing clearness, melody, and strength. In the matter of eyes, my acquaintance was, also, preeminently endowed. Either one of such a pair was worth a couple of the ordinary ocular organs. They were of a deep hazel, exceedingly large and lustrous: and there was perceptible about them, ever and anon, just that amount of interesting obliquity which gives force to the pregnant observation of Francis Bacon — that “there is no exquisite beauty existing in the world without a certain degree of strangeness in the expression.”
Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque, 1841	There was something, as it were, remarkable — yes, remarkable, although this is but a feeble term to express my full meaning — about the entire individuality of the personage in question. What this something was, however, I found it impossible to say. He was, perhaps, six feet in height, and of a presence singularly commanding. There was an air distingué pervading the whole man, which spoke of high breeding, and hinted at high birth. Upon this topic — the topic of Smith's personal appearance — I have a kind of melancholy satisfaction in being minute. His head of hair would have done honor to a Brutus — nothing could be more richly flowing, or possess a brighter gloss. It was of a jetty black — which was also the color, or more properly the no color, of his unimaginable whiskers. You perceive I cannot speak of these latter without enthusiasm; it is not too much to say that they were the handsomest pair of whiskers under the sun. At all events, they encircled, and at times partially overshadowed, a mouth utterly unequalled. Here were the most entirely even, and the most brilliantly white of all conceivable teeth. From between them, upon every proper occasion, issued a voice of surpassing clearness, melody, and strength. In the matter of eyes, my acquaintance was, also, preeminently endowed. Either one of such a pair was worth a couple of the ordinary ocular organs. They were of a deep hazel, exceedingly large and lustrous: and there was perceptible about them, ever and anon, just that amount of interesting obliquity which gives {{1839-01: force to the pregnant observation of Francis Bacon — that “there is no exquisite beauty existing in the world without a certain degree of strangeness in the expression.” //1840-02: pregnancy to expression }}

anxious {{1842-01: and tremulous }} embarrassment

The kind friend who presented me to General Smith whispered in my ear, {{1843-02: at the instant, }} some few words of comment

{{1840-01; 1842-02: 1843-03: What this something was, however, I found it impossible to say. }}

{{1840-01; 1842-02; 1845-04: Upon this topic — the topic of Smith’s personal appearance — I have a kind of melancholy satisfaction in being minute. }}

Here my friend {{1843-02: placed his forefinger to the side of his nose, and }} opened his eyes to some extent.

{{1843-02: just at that moment // 1845-03: just at that moment }}

the immediate result of {{1843-02: the application of }} the great principles of electro-magnetics

respecting the tremendous events {{1843-02: in which he performed so conspicuous a part — }} quorum pars magna fuit {{1843-02: — // 1845-03: , }}

I was no sooner seated at the card table, with my pretty hostess for a {{1843-02: partner // 1845-03: vis-à-vis }} ,

Captain {{1843-02: Mann // 1845-03: Ma-a-a-a-n }}

presently re-squeaked the {{1843-02: bundle // 1845-03: nondescript }}

is decidedly the best hand at a cork leg; {{1843-02: he lives in Race street, No. 79 — stop, I’ll give you his card; }}

and {{1843-02: now }} took leave of him at once

the man that was used up {{1843-02: ! // 1845-03: . }}

{{1845-03:

EDGAR A. POE.

}}

chat:

The phrase itself (“His head of hair would have done honor to a Brutus”) appears to be Poe’s coinage, not a quotation.

Its imagery is drawn from widely recognizable contemporary references: Brutus as a Roman republican hero and the hair style “à la Brutus” plus stage Brutus with conspicuous hair.