The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, 1879-12-04
Poe's Wonderful Interpreter.
New York 6un.l


"Do you see that fine looking old
negro coming down the street, with blue
coat and brass buttons, and slight limp
in his gaitT' said my friend W -, as
We were walking up Main-street, Klch-
mond.
eyes," I replied.
"Well, sir, that was formerly the
body servant of Edgar Allen, the gentle.
man who adopted Poe. We take great
pleasure in the old darky here, and
hardly week passes that he does not
assist in some private entertainment.
Though he can neither read or write, his
memory serves him, and almost all the
poetry Poe taught him he retains, and
he delivers it well. You must know
him."
By this time we had approached, and
nv friend introduced James Stirling. A
fine specimen of negro he was-tall,
well-shaped, and but little bowed, though
seventy winters had frosted his hair, and
"tried to twist his joints" he said. He
was on his way to Zion Church, where
he was deacon and trustee, and was a
little late.
"But I want to introduce you to my
New York friend, who is great admirer
of Massa Poe's poetry" said W.
That was enough to deter the old fellow,
and without any seeming pride but all
affection, he removed his hat the second
time, and stood the rest of the interview
uncovered. We talked long enough for
me to get his promise of an afternoon
conference at Wallace's tobacco ware
house, where he was night watchman.
Nv thoughts all sermon-time were OF
the negro and the treat in store for me,
and I learned from him afterward that
more of the spirit of Poe than of God
possessed him through his morning
service. -,
Two o'clock found me before the long,
low warehouse, and soon the limping
step of the negro sounded but q little
way off. He came wiping his brow
heated more by the excitement that the
occasion promised than by the weather
A quick recognition and hasty entrance
and we were alone. He seated me on 9
rather dilapidated stool in the second
loft, and there began his tale of the
poets life. The incidents were Of the
common sort, of childish scrapes, out
bursts of temper, gambling, debaucheryi
and the end in Baltimore, the sight. o.
which, "thank God, he (Stirling) hao
! been spared" .' H.. IT,
These were of no interest to me, fol
they were out of all reason, and were
| unlicensed, inasmuch as Poe had hae
bright example and kindliest discipline
But when the old negro came to recitint
Poe's lines, he threw 50 much fervo
into them that I felt the poets spirit
and remained entranced and delighted
What a voice, and what control! Tht
telling of "Annabel Lee" was made
more pitiful than you can imagine; anc
10 were many other of the shorter poems
But "The Bells" went beyond all my
idea of human power. "'Massa Poe
had told him that there was no use try
ing to make sleigh bells, but had made
him stop and listen to all fire and funera
bells" And well had he studied them
and what delight it must have beer
for Poe to hear him initiate them, max
ing them near or distant. With poo
acoustics, still he made that old lot
ring out his pleasure, his fear, or hi
grief, as +ae poet had taught him to fee
and express them, until, with dyinl
measure and echo, he pronounced: ct
the moaning and the groaning of tn
bellsw and burst into tears.
The "Raven" was given in mood o
reverie until the first response of tn
bird, then jocularity, then with grea
seriousness, and, finally exasperated tt
madness, the Interpreter threw the box
that had served him as a seat, ant
rostrum, at the imaginary bird, and fel
PROSTATE. His voice in the last line
weakened to a husky whisper, and hi
eyes wandered with the "shadow on tn
floor" have seen Salvini in "Civi
DEATH" and can only instance him as al
approach to that negro's abject terro
and surrender.