The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1896-12-10
THE RAVEN"
The Famous Poem Written Under
u Street Lamp.
THE EDON BIRD HAUNTED POE.
History Of tho Inception orthc Verses that
Have Hun tho Gamut OF tic World AMI
En,nared Every n'sder-A storYroi
By ain Old Friend of'hs Poet.

--
An Interesting article contributed 10
: tho .'Rachelor of Arts tells of Tho
Raven" us follows:
One day when / was n child oe twelve
or thirteen, l stood tptoelng In my
unclr's office: my eye was caught by
an engraving hung high over a lump
bracket at one side OF the chimney
place. II was the portarit OF IL Nuns
face, dark. sad. proud. Irresistible al
most In tho attraction OF itg deep eyes
md the suggestive curve OF the weak
though naughty mouth. Underneath
the picture was written In n bcauti-
full, fl.m, small. even hand: TO my
friend. Cornelius Mathews, from his
friend, Edgar Allen Poe"
is that the mar who wrote: The
Raven7. I asked. brcathlcas In my
gaze ut the weird, spiritual face. 1t
seemed to me. t,lckerlnE with suppress
cd life at tina { very moment, In the
flare Of the SIN olty littlc tamp below Il,
Nly uncle nodded. laid down his pen.
md wheeled his chair neirrr 10 the
tire.
DO YOU want to know how The Ra-
ven was writycn?' he asked me. as |
drew - bit neartt' TO him and the blaze.
OF course 1 cid: hungry for the ecrie
and the strang 2. 1 fairly shtvercd with
delightful anticipation then over Its
first hearing, as 1 have nan II time
since when | have begged for Its rep
etitioa at my rlncle's lips. 1t Is be-
cause l have heard IL 80 often that l
nm able to put down so accurately the
picturesque little history OF At least
one OF uc not the) inceptional phases
OF a poem that has run the Gamut %
the world and ems na.ed Its every read-
or.
lit was In the winter OF 'ii-45." be-
gan nv uncle, "a d rIZ2ling night full OF
chill and murli, AMI Shitty with freaks
of an east wind tn 1t shivered against
the lamp-poSts and ruttled the swing
ing signs all along Broadway. Broad
way was not then what It Is now.
and on such n night years ago the
warm tlrc OF the gas Al the entrance
10 the Park Theatre, the old Park
Theatre down Wonder In Park row,
seemed very attractive to 4 young man
still IN his twenticS, end viii 4 play
OF his own In his desl1, into which he
had put his best, ! crossed over unl
went In l found Edgar Poe In the seat
beside mine; we shook hands; VT had
known each other for some years by
letter, and for some months FACE TO
tacc.
"Ee was n OF, the most courteous
and attentive listeners 1 ever cRcoun-
tered. and, with L delica y and inter-
est unboundsd. he Inquired as to the
play I was then so intent 'E2on. 1t was
.Wltchcr1ft.' and rs briefly AS l could
] outlined the plOt TO him AS I came
to the close OF the fourth act, depict
ing the anguish and horror OF my hero
Gideon on being convinced that his
mother IS In truth n witch. beholding
as he does the signs IN Tie elements
and In the sky. Poe. his gaze fixed be-
fore him, said In his low, mclodious
voice. r.Mr. Mathews, why 10 you not
al this roins have n r1vcnr-tAat bird
OF l~li-cmen-dit across the stage over
the wltch's hrndI Do you Know he
went on, his eyes still imIno vably w.
eted on the glowing space btforc him.
his voice so low that * could not dis
turb his nearest neIghhor. that shlt
hIrd-that imp b~ird-pursueS me men
tally perpetually; l cannot rid myself
OF its presence; as I sit here I seem
10 lca- the melancholy OF its croak as
I used to hear It IN my boyis!r days az
school in Stoke eTington: l seem 10
hear the Sordid flap OF It's wings In
my ears. I wonder, Mr.. Mathews he
said, looking At me now squarely In the
face, IL Dickens has ever been haunt
cd by the raven rs I IN: ! wonder II
the raven In "BlEnaby Ridge" Is his
expression OF the monotonGus power
the bird has had over his mind. What
do YOU think
'Caudtdly.' | answered. 'from.a long
correspondence with DicKens I take
him 10 be 4 man so little Inclined to
the retrospective that his presentation
OF Barnaby's raven Is likely TO have
been more for its effect than the result
OF n deep cause
81 sec,' Poe responded. thai: Is pre-
cisely II. Some men s'yay %t-iiles, foib-
les. or events TO their own sIaptng.
othcrs'-ilc shifted his gaze back to the
space no doubt rcopled by his fancies
AR swayed IND swung hithcr and
fro by whispers heard only by them
selves
"Haf an hour later I came out, Jump
ed into the omnibus, and away It
rattling over the wet cobhiestones-oh.
yea. nothing smoother in those old
days-up through the mirth OF Broad
way. we had reached Bleecke- street.
when there. in the circle OF 4 sichly
yellow light. under the lau1-poSt. I
behold Edgar Poe standing. writing on
the marqiu OF Il paper. apparently w
terly obliv!oas Of everything around
him. ! pulled the strap and dashed
out, and yet even then something
that shore. like the glitter OF stars in
n hot summer Sky, in the depths OF his
gray eyes-a something that exudcd
from his white bTOWs, where the dark
curis, gemmcd with the frozen = rain
drops, spa:klcd In the mea@er light of
the almost deserted thorouEhfarc: but
for an instant, when common sense
came TO my aid, combined with conn
o feeling for q man standing invlt-
Ing disease In such weather rs this.
"'P0c!' I cried. touching him light
IL on the shoulder. as l held the am
brelia over his head.
with q curious urbanity-a gentle
ness which yet spoke to me IN other
language and told me O: his chnErin ut
being tn;crrupted-he greeted me md
thanked me. and slld. answering my
earnest queries as to why he had given
me the slip md deprived me OF the
pleasure OF his company ut supper:
al thank 0 very much: I could
rot have eaten or drunk. or slept. or
gone i step farther than this. or walt
ed a moment longer than now (P0c
: then lived In Amlty street. only Il few
blocks dIstant.) 1t IS the Raven he
went on, pushing hia dark hair back
from his forehead. and with his feet al
most frozen IN n puddle: with my nm
brellI beating nov this way. now that.
by the flcrccness or the wind; with the
rumble of n solitary cart emphasizing
the solitude; with tho creahing Of n
/, board aign at the corner-Poc said In
n hushcd. strained voicG-n vOice
where some pcnt-up, surglug sorrow
seemed slipping from his control:
"rLct me read you q staa2a or two
r.. 100 ..~,0r ..tsfN T@N.I