I was forced, a few days ago, to put my long-time feline companion, Gwendolyn, to sleep. And, today is the one-year anniversary of my Mom's passing. However, not wishing to make this so much a record of my personal life, as a record of my work, I won't go further into all that. I had this discussion recently by e-mail with a long-time fan (the only one)--that I would much prefer interest in my work, than interest in myself. I present myself primarily as an example; as a subject of my own self-study. I want people to see how the process of connecting with a proven past life affects me; but readers should not mistake this for a quasi-personal relationship. That's the ideal. At times, I write as though this were a personal journal; at times, as if to friends. But the thought of being anybody's idol, or all-consuming interest, ranges from abhorrent to frightening.
What I want is people who are inspired and fascinated by my work, and its potential benefit to society, based on their full understanding of it. Not "fans" who fondly imagine they understand it, and who rationalize that their interest is based on same.
In my work here in Portland, Maine, I acted as caretaker for a gentleman who began to remind me vividly of the New England deacons that Mathew Franklin Whittier wrote so humorously about. Mathew's "take" on these people was decidedly ambivalent. One can't help but feel a certain admiration for a dyed-in-the-wool straight arrow, whose position in small-town society is based first and foremost on his own official morality. But one also can't help poking a bit of fun at his humanity, and his inflexibility. Mathew actually told what I take to be an autobiographical story, of two elderly deacons snoozing in the pew in front of him. He silently tied their hair together, then stuck a pin in one of them to wake him up! Of course, everybody is guilty of sleeping in church at times (witness Mr. Bean's sketch); but two deacons, those models of propriety, both doing so in front of a mischievous young fellow who challenged hypocisy wherever he found it, would be too much to resist. Here I was, in 2018, re-encountering one of these fellows and patiently assisting him in his dementia.
But I think I know what the past-life connection must be with this modern-day fan. This must be one of the men that Mathew wrote about, who wouldn't leave him alone. He wrote about this fellow on two occasions--one of them became the celebrated unsigned parody of "The Raven," called "The Vulture," which historians variously assign to other authors. Mathew styled these people as "bores," but I have written in my book, that as regards this particular one, I had the feeling he was actually a fan who had penetrated Mathew's anonymity and wouldn't leave him alone.*
Mathew was pretty rough on him, though he did try to be concilliatory. Perhaps he was too rough. Perhaps I owed both the deacon, and the bore, an apology. So I was exceedingly patient with the deacon; and I have tried to be both patient and polite with the bore. The first has, as I presume, passed on now; the second, hopefully, will "get a life" and find someone else to turn into a personal hobby. Because no matter how polite such a person is, shadowing someone you don't know for years is itself an aggressive and selfish act, which makes the shadowed person uncomfortable. It is not about the person you shadow--it is all about yourself, in some hidden way. It is also profoundly dishonest, because offering condolences to someone you have been shadowing, who has specifically said they want no contact, is using someone's loss as an excuse to fulfill your own wishes to make contact.
Having said that, I am done with the topic, and I'm hoping to see the stats indicating that the readership of this blog has gone down by one, as the person has indicated he would do. If it does not go down, I will know that his wounded protests and saccharine goodbyes are bogus (in hindsight, as I write this, the tone of his most-recent--I won't be so presumptious as to say "last"--e-mail reminds me of nothing so much as Charles Dickens' "Violated Letter"). There is no need for him to check back to see if I make further references to him in subsequent entries--I won't be doing so. As for interest in what I'm saying, here, I might as well tell the rest of you the same thing. If you haven't seen fit to put out $12.00 for my sequel by this time, you aren't seriously interested in my work, by definition. So the question arises--which I have brought up before--as to why in the world anyone would read my blog, and not study my books. I don't mean visiting a blog or web page once or twice, like I often do, but reading it on a daily basis.
I'll give you an example. I consider myself a fan (not a rabid fan) of radical comedian Lee Camp. He is a comic genius, and Mathew-in-me appreciates his work in that way. I watch a lot of his videos (not all), and when he came to Portland, I shelled out money I didn't really have to see him live. I did not, however, buy his book in order to buy the privilege of meeting him personally. He has, on rare occasions, responded briefly to Facebook comments I've made over the past couple of years. We don't see entirely eye-to-eye on some issues (like abortion, or the paranormal). I saw no particular need to spend more money I didn't have for his book, which was out of date, just to shake his hand, without any opportunity to discuss anything of substance. I'm not that kind of fan. I just admire his work, being a past-life radical humorist, myself.
One or two people have tried to read my first book and, as I gather, they became bogged down without getting very far in it. Recently, I watched a lengthy lecture by an expert on 9-11. She presented strong evidence, one piece after another, as she built her case. She had done her homework about to the level of sophistication that one sees in my book. I wasn't bored at all, and I'm guessing no-one in the audience was bored, either. She proved that the official government story of a plane hitting the Pentagon is definitely a fraud. I did the same thing with my proposed past-life case, along with some startling literary attributions. If a person who is somehow resisting the idea that the government lied about this tragedy attempts to watch that lady's presentation, their eyes will glaze over, and they will have the subjective experience of being bored. But this is not real boredom. It is psychological resistance, masked as boredom. The "boredom" is a defense mechanism. I have seen it before--my ex-wife used to literally fall asleep during our arguments, just about the time I was finally making a good point.
That would have to be the case with regard to anyone who can't read my books without their eyes glazing over. Because the material is inherently fascinating, entertaining, and well-presented. It proves reincarnation, it demonstrates what carries over into a subsequent reincarnation; it proves that Charles Dickens did not write "A Christmas Carol," and that Edgar Allan Poe did not write "The Raven." And more besides. It is sprinkled throughout with Mathew's own work, as well as Abby's, and they were both unsung literary geniuses. The first book, in particular, can be taken in bite-sized chunks; and there are guides in the Appendix which make it easier. There's no excuse for any "glazing," given the power and significance of the thing.
Back to the work, itself. I had earlier mentioned that I discovered a series of anonymous letters written from New York City to the editor of the Portland "Transcript," Charles Ilsley. And there was also a reprinted essay from the New York "Tribune," excerpted, sans signature. All of these, I tentatively assigned to Mathew Franklin Whittier; but being too stressed from long years of working flat-out on this project, for the sake of my health I set them aside. I knew that until I had keyed them all in, or read them carefully, I would have to reserve judgment. One little phrase or reference could point strongly to Mathew's authorship; conversely, one contra-indication could preclude it.
This morning, I keyed in the first of the letters, which is dated Nov. 30, 1844. I am quite sure, by writing style and by intuitive recognition, that this is indeed Mathew. Here is the original for your perusal. Exactly why Ilsley is introducing Mathew as a mysterious, prominent literary figure, is unknown. It may simply be a congratulatory (or teasing) reference to Mathew having recently obtained the freelance or contracted position of reviewer for the New York "Tribune"; or, Ilsley may be referring to Mathew's earlier contributions to his own newspaper. Ilsley and Mathew were personal friends; hence, Ilsley may know that Mathew has been publishing in prominent newspapers since 1827, when he was 14 years old.
If I am correct, this puts Mathew in New York City two months before "The Raven" was first published there. I have many other clues which establish the same thing. So this is now added to the rest of the evidence. In skimming these letters to the "Transcript"--which end just before "The Raven" was published--I saw no tell-tale references or foreshadowing that would be relevant in proving Mathew's authorship of that poem. However, I'm not done keying them in, yet.
Here are some pertinent facts. Mathew writes from Buffalo, New York, signing with his accustomed and long-time secret signature, a single asterisk, to the editor of the New York "Tribune" on Nov. 13, 1844 (published in the Nov. 23 edtion). The letter is a criticism of the "Nativism" movement, a political attempt to exclude recent immigrants from voting, and would be typical for Mathew. The first asterisk-signed review appears in the "Tribune" of Dec. 7, 1844, featuring an analysis of Ralph Waldo Emerson's second series of published essays. Around this same time, Margaret Fuller comes to live with "Tribune" editor Horace Greeley, being invited because Greeley's wife is an enthusiastic fan of Fuller. Fuller has been given the position of Literary Editor for the "Tribune," and historians assign all of the asterisk-signed reviews and essays which appear over the next year and a half, to her--despite the fact that they are quite frequent, whereas in Greeley's memoirs, he says that Fuller wrote infrequently and reluctantly.
In the "Tribune's" Jan. 16, 1845 asterisk-signed review of Longfellow's "The Waif: A Collection of Poems," Mathew especially praises a poem entitled "Sweet Phospher bring the Day" by Frances Quarles.
"The Raven" is simultaneously published in the second (February) edition of "American Review" under the pseudonym, "---- Quarles," and in the New York "Evening Mirror" under Edgar Allan Poe's name (at the end of January). Poe was a reviewer for the "Mirror," just as Mathew was a reviewer for the "Tribune." The two newspapers' offices were about one block from each other at the time. Poe would plausibly have been privy to an advance copy of "American Review," as a reviewer.
I won't continue the trail of evidence from that point on--it is all in my sequel. You can read the first letter from Mathew to Charles Ilsley, yourself. To establish that they were personal friends, we have a letter dated June 17, 1842 from Mathew to his brother, John Greenleaf Whittier. I quote:
O by the way I had almost forgotten it. My good friend Docr. Ilsley of the Portland Transcript asked make some months ago when I wrote to request thee to do him the very great favor of sending him one or two articles for his paper. He would (I may as well tell thee) want to publish them in manual form as follows--"Written for the Transcript by J.G. Whittier."
The poor fellow is rather hard pushed just now as a new rival paper unde the patronage of D.C. Colesworthy, S.B. Becket & John Neal has been started for the express purpose of running the Transcript down. They have got Cutter as a contributor & I believe Ingraham. I told him thy time was supposed pretty well taken up but if thee could spare the Doctor a small lift it would be rather a deed of charity, anything would be greatfully (sic) received prose or poetry.
John Greenleaf never did comply with the request. He was already too good for his younger brother, despite the fact that in the early 1830's, Mathew, being the junior editor of the New York "Constellation," helped put his brother's poetry on the map by publishing it in that paper--at a time when John Greenleaf was only publishing in the local small-town "Haverhill Gazette." Besides, he appears to have been shunning Mathew, ever since Mathew married out of the Quaker faith in 1836--without admitting to Mathew, outright, that he was in fact shunning him. (It's unclear how much the intense sibling rivarly between these brothers had to do with it.) Meanwhile, the great Portland patron of the arts, John Neal, is here implicated in a deliberate plot to squelch the liberal Portland "Transcript." Literature and journalism was indeed a cut-throat business, even in the little town of Portland, no less (as Mathew indicates in his first letter) in New York City.
Really, I don't know why I share this with two people--or perhaps three, if the fan persists--but I feel like I want to leave a record of any discoveries I come across, in date order. I don't know whether any specific clues may come up as I occasionally key in another of these letters from New York. But clearly--based on this evidence, and other evidence--we have Mathew working in a professional capacity for a major New York City newspaper, very shortly before "The Raven" is published there--and we have Mathew praising Francis Quarles, a relatively obscure, deeply religious poet. We do not have Edgar Allan Poe, who was not religious, doing so. So far as I know, not having studied Poe's private papers, he never mentioned Francis Quarles before "The Raven" was published. But Mathew had both reviewed Quarles and praised his work, in the early 1830's. There, in a Boston young man's magazine called "The Essayist,"** he had written a two-part review of an antiquarian book of Quarles' poetry under the pseudonym of "Franklin, Jr."; though he wrote regular book reviews for that publication as well, signing with the same signature as he used in the "Tribune," a single asterisk.
In my recent radio interview, I said that I counted roughly 20--that's twenty--clues pointing to Mathew's authorship of "The Raven," and Poe's theft thereof. If the truth always outs, then this, too, will come out sooner or later. When it does, my reincarnation study will be stuck to it like glue. It will not be possible for anyone to separate out this discovery, from my having proved my own reincarnation case. And when you take that, and add to it that Mathew and his first wife Abby were the original authors of "A Christmas Carol"--and that evidence also comes out--reincarnation will be front-and-center for a very long time. Nobody will be able to marginalize it or sweep it under the rug, because nobody will be able to sweep these two momentous historical discoveries under the rug.
Please, go ahead and ignore me, and ignore my findings. This thing will find its way out into open debate at just the right time.
Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.
*This, of course, is why all publicly prominent people have created a firewall, so that it's nearly impossible to contact them. I really don't want to go to the hassle and expense of changing my private e-mail address and setting up such a firewall, nor do I have a secretary to screen contacts for me, as a prominent person might have. If I do reach a level of public success, such that I am giving talks and attending conventions, I will have to do it.
**I have an original copy which cost me $500, but you can find it online in pdf format.
Music opening this page, "Surfin' Bird," by The Trashmen