Wow. I've been keying in Mathew Franklin Whittier's earliest work, written at age 15 for the New-England Galaxy in Boston. He began in 1827; and, apparently, moved to Boston in November of that year--probably to work as a printer's "devil" for the Galaxy's sister-paper, the Courier. I say "wow," because his work is so sophisticated. It is also completely consistent with his later work, but it really doesn't suffer in comparison, at all. That means he was a child prodigy who came into that lifetime with the skills already under his belt. In fact, if I presented some of this work to you--and you hadn't seen the 1,200 or so other pieces in his literary portfolio--you wouldn't believe me that a 15-year-old wrote it. Then again, at age 15, in this lifetime, I was struggling to create a sort of philosophical unified field theory which would explain everything. I was also deeply in love with the 12-year-old sister of a friend, a brunette named Anne. Mathew, a philosopher, fell in love with the younger sister of a friend, a brunette named Abby, when he was not much older.
It is astounding how we must be recapitulating our past lives, without realizing it, especially as children and young adults.
I'm not going to reproduce any of these works, here. In fact, I'm going to cut this short, because I have to get as many of these things keyed in as I can. This will require its own chapter in my sequel, "Mathew Franklin Whittier in his own world," but long experience tells me I must finish keying all these in before I attempt to summarize them. If I jump the gun, I will spot some tell-tale clue or nuance which must be inserted, and so-on for each piece. So far I have keyed in 11 of them, and I think I'm about a third of the way done.
There are clues, here, which confirm my speculations about the key events in Mathew's life at this time. I won't get into those, either.
But I can now demonstrate that Mathew was a child prodigy, a genius--just as I have demonstrated the same for his soul-mate and first wife, Abby Poyen. When I advance the theory that these two young people, together, were the original authors of "A Christmas Carol," this is not an ordinary couple. These are child prodigies who later married, writing, probably, in their early 20's. And I can demonstrate it--I don't have to merely assert it. By any reasonable standard, both were genius-level authors. That simply means that my theory becomes entirely plausible, at least in terms of ability. As it happens, the other elements are already taken care of, which is to say, Dickens as a plagiarist, motive, and opportunity. All the elements that a detective looks for in solving a crime. They're all present and accounted for. This is not a wild claim. Don't judge a book by its cover.
When I was participating recently in an online reincarnation research group, one of the moderators raked me over the coals with skeptical questioning about this theory. I answered her every question quite adequately. As I mentioned before, I think she thought herself assured of an easy victory--so she asked question after question after question, to try to bring the thing to a satisfactory close (i.e., satisfactory for her). She failed. She finally ran out of steam, and her skeptical questions began getting wilder and wilder. I don't normally like to debate anyone who has ulterior motives, i.e., who has an ax to grind. But in this case, I wanted the lurkers to see that I'm not just blowing smoke.
I'm not blowing smoke about Mathew Franklin Whittier being a child prodigy, now, either. I have the evidence, by any reasonable standard. As said, if I shared this early body of work with you, you wouldn't question that it was genius level work. You would immediately question that a 15-year-old could have written it. But I have solid evidence for that, too. I probably won't bother, in my sequel, but I could draw dozens and dozens of direct parallels between this early body of work, and Mathew's (identified) later work. Very specific parallels.
I'll just share one, which might be of interest to historians. Are you aware of the characters which were created in the Boston "Carpet-Bag," which drew almost as much attention as the presidential election that was going on at the time, in 1852? There were two characters in particular--one "Ensign Jehiel Stebbings," who typified the military mentality, and one "Dr. E. Goethe Digg," who typified academia. These were both spin-offs from the root signature, "Trismegistus." Posterity--and, the editor, himself--attributed all this work to Benjamin Drew, with the other contributors to the paper chiming in, in response.
It wasn't Drew, it was Mathew. I knew this the moment I laid eyes on this body of work, and I proved it. But then, as I began studying Mathew's work in his late teens, I started seeing one or two pieces that he signed this way, "Trismegistus."
Now, I'm finding lengthy essays signed "Trismegistus," which Mathew wrote at age 15. Good essays. Worthy of any adult. And I would argue that it is beyond question that they are his work.* There is even a back-story to this. Abby, four years younger than Mathew, had begun tutoring him in the classics in lieu of a college education, which Mathew had been denied. But she had learned both high metaphysics, and the occult, from her Scottish mother. And she was also attempting to tutor Mathew in these subjects, despite his initial skepticism. Obviously, she was including Hermeticism in her curriculum, along with reincarnation--because Mathew makes a passing reference to the River Lethe in a poem. What he did with this information, at this early stage as a skeptic, was simply to draw from it for references, and in this case, for a pseudonym. Later, he would lampoon some aspects of it; still later, he would embrace it.
Through a researcher, I got into Benjamin Drew's personal papers, including his diary and unpublished autobiography, some time back. He included two of the "Trismegistus" poems in his diary, claiming them as his own--but otherwise, there is no mention of any of it. The years in which he was supposedly writing extensively for the "Carpet Bag" are simply not represented, at all. There is no mention of "Trismegistus." But people shared their diaries with family in those days. The best explanation, in my opinion, is that Mathew shared some of his poetry with Drew--he would often share some of his work, apparently, by way of mentoring other writers--and Drew claimed it for his own, so he could impress his family with it. Otherwise he was a sort of milktoast fellow who really would have been incapable of the kind of penetrating satire that Mathew wrote (and which is credited by some historians with sinking the paper).
I have been watching videos explaining the theories of Bulgarian researcher Sylvie Ivanova, on YouTube. I wish I could meet her, because of all people, she would understand what a convoluted mess recorded history is. She derisively calls mainstream academicians "penguins." She gets it. To her, the idea that Charles Dickens didn't really write "A Christmas Carol," and that Edgar Allan Poe didn't really write "The Raven," would make perfect sense. Some huge percentage of our history--what makes it into our textbooks--is bullshit, re-worked for selfish reasons by greedy people. I wish somebody would understand that I am presenting good research, and not making wild, megalomaniacal claims. I wish somebody would take my work seriously. Even Sylvie appears to have respect among a certain select group of adherents.
Maybe, as I often tell myself, it's in the timing. Meanwhile, I've written a longer entry than I intended, and I have work to do.
Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.
*While the first "Trismegistus" essay is a complaint about the modern overabundance of bad poetry, in the second one he suddenly jumps into a conservative pro-Andrew Jackson character. Except that he very subtly makes the character look like a fool, thus discrediting his position. Mathew even makes a cameo appearance in the third essay, as a brilliant "young sprout of the law" whose arguments can't be defeated. This is a technique Mathew will use throughout his career. It is clearly seen in the very premise of his known "Ethan Spike" character, as also in faux letters to the editor in his own newspaper (i.e., letters to himself) having adopted a pro-dueling and pro-slavery character. So there is very little question that "Trismegistus" is Mathew Franklin Whittier in 1828, as well as in 1852.
Music opening this page: "Remote Outpost," by the author (via Garage Band software)