Alexandria gazette. [volume] (Alexandria, D.C.) 1834-1974, 1884-10-21
THE HOME OF THE RAVEN.


THE HOME OF THE RAVEN.
The one house in Fordham which stands
preeminent among its neighbors in the rich
ness of its history is the little matched cot
tape in which for three years lived Edgar
Allan Poe 1t was sold few months ago,
and will be preserved as Il relic of the poet.
It stands close up IT, the roadway. Its
weather worn sides in sharp contrast with
the pretty white picket feuce in front OF 1t.
The cottage is two stories i'll height. The
tiny windows have heavy green board shut
tiers, and the chimney shows in It's Varl-
colored bricks the handiwork of many ma
sons. At the back of it was built, some
few years ago, an Clubhouse, in doing which
the tree upon whose branch the raven IS
said to have croaked was cut down.
Nevertheless the imaginative and exaG.
gerative villagers, with the assistance OF
the carloads Of romance and sentiment
which visit the place daily. soon inund
another tree about five or six years old and
perched the raven upon It's tcpIEo:t ino.
The residents seem perfectly well aware
that good antiquity should have Il hecom-
ing history, and with u Loyal good "il' set
about enabling this cottage 10 mold lis own
with any other American relic. Could the
poet walk up the village road some day,
book in hand, as he loved to do in life, he
might for once forget his sorrows and smile
at the fictons.
There was no way to get into the house
except through Il back window, as the
family which did live there lately moved
away. Mrs Valentine, the daughter Of
Mrs Cromwell. who attended Poe's young
wife, Virginia GLENN, during her last hours,
showed the window open and told the
author to so where he would and 10 take
nothing away with him. The first room
entered was the dining room. The walls
were covered with bright paper and the
floor painted blue. There was no douot
about it. The late residents had determin-
ed, as far IS paper and paint could do II. 10
etfectually choke Off the Raven" Near
this chamber is another, six feet square,
with single mite of window at the side,
through which the breeze blew in. 1t was
here that the poets wife died, without one
except her husband and Mrs. Cromwell to
soothe her. The family was so poor that
there was not even 81 coverlid to the bed,
and the old army cloak which Poe had so
terribly disgraced was thrown across her
Her death broke her husband down. With
three friends he moved the remains from
the narrow room to the village vault. She
now lies by his side in Baltimore. Over
this room is the apartment In which, ac-
cording to popular tradition, The Raven"
was written. IL is a low chamber, with
blue, slanting roof; an old-iashioned fire
place and three windows, two of which
look down into the village and the third
across the fields.
Poe had wept over his wife's remains and
to her memory he wrote the Raven" so
the village historian has it--and, like almost
everything else in connection with Poe,
has it wrong. His wife died in 1S4S, and in
1S45 the craven" was published in the
american Reriew The chamber does not
very much resemble the one of Gus:ave
Dore's Imagination, which is rich with
bric-a-brac and works of art. Poe never
possessed such luxures. The big fireplace
is perfectly true, and the Instant one steps
into the room it is recognized. But its very
narrowness shows the Straitened circum-
stances in which Poe lived and that there
were no wings nor busts of Palas is true be-
yond doubt Poe did pass most of the time
when he was in the house, however IL this
room, which is about uncomfortable an
apartment as one could wish TO stay in.
The windows arc only on one side and so
very small that any kind OF i desirable
breeze would have to squeeze Itself to get in.
In Poes tine il was as dark and weird as
the spirit of It's master Here again the
hand of the later resident is seen IN the blue
streaked floor and the daubs of color around
which make it look like the councl-room
of Masonic lodge. The other rooms are as
bad both in ventilation and color. ihe
floor in many places is very old and weak,
and if the little concern should one day
blow down on the heads of the villagers
they could not say that no one would eS-
pect it. :,
Among the people living in the village
Poe has peculiar history. He was accus-
toned, so the story runs, to rise early every
morning and book in hand start out for
long walk He was an uncommnnicatlve
man and would follow the bent of his plea
sure through the woods often all day long,
speaking to no one and stopping only TO
read q passage over twice. Everything that
he ever did has been distorted. No one
will admit for one second that he wrote
either 1.-The Bells or 'The Raven in his
sober senses.
Il know" said Mrs. Valentine, that be
must have had the oelriunl treInens when
he wrote The Raven | believe he was
sitting in this rocking g-chair--ges up, aunt,
and let the gentleman sit in iv-wnen he
did write it. for do YOU imagine that a man
would write thing like that in his sober
senses ?"
Such is literature in Fordham, and the
highest encomium that the lady, or indeed
any one else in the village, could bestow
upon the author or his family was that they
were respectable, and this admission seem
ed to be made more out of desire to main
tain the good repute of the village than for
any love toward Poe. There is no doubt
that in this cottage, however, poor Foe
passed the happiest days of his life. he
was at that time contributing to leading
journals, and but for his eccentricity and
his love for whiskey could have made q
handsome competence. He wrote here
Eureka" prose poem, and other works;
He did not remain long after tho death OF
his wife, desiring rather to try his fortune
around his foster fathers home, Mr.. Allan,