The morning news., 1889-01-21
TREASURES OF ART AND MEMORY
Some Fresh "Reminiscences Concern =
ing q Great Poet.
(Copyrtght 1889

NEW YORK. Jan. 19-Tne art critics say
that engraving is extinct; and, really, they
are right. Who recalls even the names of
the old engravers9 Do you remember John
Sartainf 1t was he who introduced the
mezzotint process in this country, and
whose name became a household word
| among art lovers. 1t was he who founded
Sortdtn'S Magdzjle; befriended Edgar
| Allan Poe; was made chief Of the bureau of
art OF the great centennial exhibition at
| Philadelphia in 1876; was decorated by the
| King of Italy, and the Princess Marie de
| Luieguan, and who has just ended his labors
as superintendent of the art department of
| the American exhibition in London. He
| has lived for many years in a modest-look-
| Ing house on Sansom street, surrounded by
| beer saloons and warehouses; but within
this little honse is palace Of art. One
! awaits the coming of its master in an ante
| room, whose inlaid floor was designed and
| constructed in Germany, and whose walls
are hung with the best achievement of the
| old engraver, his Incompatible half-ti
| portrait after Sir Thomas Lawrence. and
his Battle Of Gettysburg" after Rother-
mel, who adorned the ceiling Of an adjoin-
inR room, with Cupids and rose wreaths.
Yes, the house is gem. You pass under
an arch in which is inscribed the pretty
legend from Goethe: Take me to your
arms my books and shield me from the ills
Of lifen-into a wonderful library. 1t is a
| long gallery, filed with the best of books,
some striking statuary, and a lifetime
collection of invaluable paintings. among
which one notes strange dim panel, Gov
cred with the vaguest coloring-a Ghirlan-
| dajio.
| But it is not the house of Sartain which
interests ug. 1t is Sartan himself. Do you
know he is so years old! That. neverthe-
less, his eyes serve him in bis delicate work,
where yours and mind would fail; that his
| digestion is so sound that he may at times
with impunity wash down his viands with
a "Veuve Clicquot;" that he works inces-
sanity and often a dozen hours day walks
with springy step; talks with charming vi
vacitY and unfailing good humor of the
/ days of Fannie Kemble and Tom Moore
and alter drawing upon memory as unlm-
| paired as it is prolific speaks confidently of
future enterprises as though he had plunged
| into the fountain of youth A pony of
/ brandy is not more stimulating than a chat
| with John Sartain, nor IS all hour with an
| encyclopedia more instructive. | asked
him some time ago his opinion of Poe, "a
| brilliant enough fellow said he, "but ezra
tic and always untrustwOrthy. l remember
that Butler, the publisher, Rufus Griswold,
Poes excoriator, and Thomas Buchanan
| Reid the painter-poet, were seated with me
| one day in my den when Poe ioined us,
| aug anu lIIlpcCulIlOlo dS SN6I
don't recollect how, Dut presently the con-
versation turned upon poetry, and Girls
| void laid down the law that hard writing
was easy reading, that the best poetical
| works were the result of strenuous effort at
expression. Poe sneered at this. The gen
uine poet, he insisted, was always inspired,
| and That expression which was not spou-
| taneouS did not issue from an inspired man.
Prove it, said Butler. i will give S. for a
poem if you viii write it here and at once. ;
| Poe readily accepted the Offer and, seiziug
| pen and paper, dashed off an exquisite
| elght-line verse, and rec ived in return a So
| bill kBut the point is that We learned soon
after that this poem had been laboriously
composed some time before. Poe simply
carried it in his head. l discredited his
claims to spontaneity Of expression because
/ knew with what exceeding care and diff
| Guilty he polished and pruned his verse
"Poe," continued Mr.. Sartain, "was
rendered irresponsible by drink His mem
ory, unfortunately, will always be tarnished
because Of the many reprehensible things
he was led to do by his besetting sin. twas
his habit to sell the same manuscript to
several publishers. | remember he brought
THE Bells to me when it was written in
| the rough, and | returned it to him. After
ward he FURNISHED it into its present
| brilliant shape, and l accepted it. He came
to me once in very disordered frame of
| mind His enemies, he said, were plotting
| to kill him. They had followed him over
from New York; had confined him in a
prison, and looking ont between the iron
| bars Of his window, he had seen them that
| night. on the top of the parapet, plungug
| the body of his mother intO barrel of
vitriol. He wanted me to give him lauda-
mum, but would not. He then grew sus-
| picious of me and feared lest | would turn
| him over to his enemies The only fouuda-
,i~tl cf. layr
learned later on, of his having been put in
| the lookup over night for drunkenness. He
| insisted upon my walking out with him in
the evening We went to the old tower
that used to stand on the bank of the Schuyl-
| kill at FairmOunt. There in the moon
| light he gave loose rein to the fantastic va
carries of his disordered imagination. He
| talked as | have never heard man talk
before or since Several times l was
afraid lest he might dash himself down into
| the river.
NJ. Sartains "reminiscences are not only
endless but wholly delightful. He told me
queer story-whether of himself or friend
| cannot recall; at any rate OF one of them
| having, many years CO. been on very
| foggy day IN a certain dingy street i'll Lo0-
| don. He was suddenly surprised by the
| spectacle of naked man looming out OF the
| fog before him and then swiftly vanishing,
| enveloped in its misty folds Years after
| he found himself surveying a famous can
| vas IN house in this identical street The
| remembrance Of the curious spectacle he
| ad seen flushed back upoa him, and he mar
| rated it to his companion. an artist. The
| latter started as if shot, inquired the date
Of the adventure, and then gravelv said
| that he was the naked man himself On that
| day, he explained, company of jolly fel-
| lows were as embed at his rooms when one
| of them wagerod him that he would not run
| naked across the street He accepted the
wager and won it, Mr.. Sartain tells this
| story with rs much detail and glee as though
| it were a memory OF but fortyeight hours
| instead uf as many years. 1t Is true, as |
said in the beginning that be has outlived
! his art but by 40 means his usefulness. He
| tells me that some day he intends TO write
an autobiography. Rest assured that If he
| lives 10 do 30 ne book will be worth read
| ing. | wish he could reveal tho secret Of
| now never to grow old. WAen | asked MIN
about th, be oaly smiled and sad: IL am
| a Rosicruc.au.'
Making this mention of Poe reminds me
that there is another man in the Quaker
| City who relates strange stories of the mel
| ancholy poet There Is the queerst little
den on Seye.teenth street you ever saw. 1t
is kept by q seedy-looking old man, Of
wrinkled parchment skin, whom you never
see If You only enter his place allured by
tue sign Of Liquor for the drink you de-
mand is passed out to you by trembling
bony tingers through a pigeon hole. But
when You come 10 know the aged Harris,