On my lunch break...
I had the whim, while making a couple of tweaks to my manuscript where I introduce the latest round of discoveries, to go back into the history of Edgar Allan Poe's claim to be the author of "The Raven." I'm not going to present the case for it, here. One would really have to read my entire book--now over 2,000 pages--to get the full weight of the evidence. But I am certain, now, that Mathew Franklin Whittier--my past-life self in the 19th century--was the real author. And the more I dig into it, the clearer it is to me that the entire claim for Poe is a house of cards.
This leaves me sitting on something stupendous (again), about which nobody--including, no doubt, yourself--believes me.
Mathew and his soul-mate, Abby, were the original authors of "A Christmas Carol." And there were other, lesser figures who achieved brief fame stealing both Abby's and Mathew's work.
This is because these people were--as I've said many times--dark planets circling the 19th-century literary solar system. Abby only lived to age 24. Her one work cemented Dickens as a household name; some of her poetry briefly made one Albert Pike famous, and put another man, George W. Light, on the literary map. "A Christmas Carol," if and when it is ever attributed to her, will be enough fame for anyone, I think.
The theft of Mathew's works launched a dozen literary careers.
I'm just mulling over the poignancy of this...just sort of sitting on it. I am telling you the truth, and you don't believe me. Therefore it doesn't register (except that I'm a fruitcake).
But it's true. Generations and generations of scholars were fooled. I've got it. "Over here, over here, I found it."
It's okay. There are hundreds of people in the room, yelling "I've got it!" If you investigate, they are all empty-handed. Why should I be any different? I totally understand.
But I'm not wrong.
Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.
Music opening this page: "The Great Historical Bum," sung by the Chad Mitchell Trio, from the album, "Live at the Bitter End"