The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1884-10-01
THE HOME OF THE RAVEN.
Where Edgar Allen Poe Lived ana
Wrote His Famous Poem.

5 Where Edgar Allen Poe Lived and
5 Wrote His Famous Poem.
q The ono house in Fordham which
! stands pre-eminent among its neigh
oors IN the richness Of its history is the
little thatched cottage in which for
4 three years lived Edgar Allen Poe. Il
: was sold few days ago, and VIII be
lpreseryed as relic OF the singer. 1t
stands close up to the roadway. its
D weather-worn sides in sharp contrast
l with the pretty white picket fence in
| front Of it The cottage is two stories
in height The tiny windows have
heavy, green board shutters, and the
chimney shows in its vari-colored bricks
the handiwork of many masons. At
the back of it was built, some few years
ago, an outhouse, in doing which the
tree upon whose branch the raven is
said to have croaked was cut down
Nevertheless the imaginative and ex-
aggerative villagers, with the assist
ance Of tho carloads of romance and
sentiment which visit the place daily
soon found another tree about or
years old and perched the raven upon
its topmost limb. The residents seem
perfectly well aware thai good an
tiquiey should have a becoming history.
and with . loyal good will set about
enabling this cottage to hold its 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 sor-
rows and smile at the fictions.
There was no way to get into the
house yesterday except through n back
window, as the family which did live
there have lately moved away. A Mrs.
! Valentine, the daughter of Mrs. Crom-
well, who attended Poe's young wife,
Virginia GLENN. during her last hours,
showed the window open and told the
author to go where he would and take
nothing away with him. The first room
entered was the dining room. Tho
walls were covHred with bright paper
and tho floor painted blue There was
no doubt about it. The late residents
had determined as far as paper and
paint could do it, TO efectually choke
of 'rrhe Raven.
Near this chamber is another six feet
square, with a single mite of q win
dow at the side, through which tho
summer 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 a 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 removed the re-
mains from the narrow room to the
village vault. She now lies by his sido
in Baltimore. Over this room is the
apartment In which, according to pop
ular tradition, 1.-The Raven" was writ
ten.
Itis low chamber, with blue, slant
ing roof; an old-fashioned fireplace and
three windows, two of which look down
into the village and the third across tho
fields.
Poe had wept over his wife 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 II wrong.
His wife died in 1848, and inIS45 The
Raven" was published in the Amcricdn
RevteW.
The chamber does not very much re-
semble the one of Gustave Dore's i'm
agination, which is rich with bric-a-
brac and works of art. Poe never pos
Sessed such luxuries. The big fire.
place is perfectly true, and the Instant
one steps into tho room it is recog-
nized.
But its very narrowness shows the
straightened circumstances in which
Poe lived, and that there were no wings
lQr bust of Pallas is true beyond doubt
Poe did pass most of the 'time when
be was in the house, however, yin this
.oom, which Is about as uncomfortable
IN apartment as one could wish to stay
n. The windows arc only on one side
and SO very small that any kind of
desirable breeze would have to squeeze
itself to get in.
In Poe's time it was as dark and
wierd as the spirit of its master Here
again the hand of the later residents
seen in the blue-streaked floor and The
daubs of color around which make 1t
look like the council room OF q Mason-
ic lodge. The other rooms are as bad
both in ventilation and color. The
floor in many places is very old and
weak, and if the little concern should
blow down on the heads of the villag-
ers they could not say that no one
would expect it.
Among the people living in the VII
lage Poe has peculiar history. lie
was accustomed, so the story runs. to
arise carly every morning, and book in
hand start ont for long walk. He was
an uncommunicative man and would
follow the bent of his pleasure through
the woods often all day long, speaking
to no one and stopping only to read
passage over twice. Everything that
he ever did has been distorted. Noone
will admit for one minute that he wrote
either 'The Bells" or "Tho Raven" In
his sober senses.
Such is literature In Fordham, and tho
highest encomium that lady, or in
deed any one else in the VILLAGE, could
bestow upon the author or his family
was that they were respectable, and
this admission seemed to be made moro
out of desire to maintain the good re-
pute of tho village than for any love
toward Poe. There was no doIbt that
in this cottage, however, poor Poe pass
ed the happicst days of his life. He
was at the same time contributing to
leading journals, and but for his &C.
centricity and his love for whisky
could have made a handsome csmpe-
tence. He wrote here Eureka"
prose poem, and other works. He did
not remain long after the death of his
wife, desiring rather 10 try his fortune
around his foster fathers home, Mr..
Allen, in Richmond. AS usual, when
on the high road to fortune he manag-
ed to ruin his expectations, and having
made an engagement with wealthy
lady, became gloriously drunk the
night before the wedding. which was
therefore declared 'of. His wife,
was no doubt very dear to
him, and that she loved him passion
ately is unquestionable. She was
southern girl, dark and handsome, and
was loved in the village as much as her
husband was feared.
The purchaser of the cottage intends
to keep it as q relic, and this, if done
the way it has been, will soon obliter-
ate all traces of the old house.
Blue paint, whitewash, and gaudy
do not blend well with the an
cient fireplace, from which the dying
embers cast their shadows on the floor.
-NesO York World.
VuOrnHfFra AoafdarR