Yesterday I wrote query letters to two professors at the local university. Both, by their respective areas of specialization, should have been interested in my work. But one may be an atheist; and the other a Muslim; so for both of these men, reincarnation would be anathema. That was early yesterday morning; I haven't heard back, and don't expect to.
I do this not because I think that I can control my fate in this regard; but because I want to be able to say I tried my best. I don't want a defeatist attitude to become a self-fulfilling prophecy. But it is hard to keep myself out of it, and a result, it is hard to keep from getting discouraged.
All day yesterday, I was feeling the frustration of sitting on amazing discoveries, which I can induce no-one to take seriously. Specifically, I was thinking, "I can now prove that Edgar Allan Poe stole 'The Raven' from Mathew Franklin Whittier, and nobody believes me." I took a look at the online forum where I attempted to present this finding to a group who were debating the question of Poe's authorship of that poem. They "blew me off" entirely. My comments sit there ignored; when I tried to explain at length (because they challenged me), the moderator shunted me to a "chat room," which has now been "frozen" for lack of activity. It really is poignant, when you consider that the real author of that poem, reincarnated, tried to answer the question and was ignored.
Yesterday, I happened upon a YouTube video, which was actually a compilation of several old films made of inventors. These people had invented machines which could have benefitted mankind; but they were either ignored, bought out by big companies who then shelved their inventions, or (if they refused), they were threatened and personally ruined. None of their inventions are commonly used, or even acknowledged--except in this obscure "conspiracy theory" video on YouTube.
So I am not alone in this. The world pretends that it wants breakthroughs and solutions, but it really wants the status quo. We are addicted to the status quo. I wonder whether anyone has applied the addiction model to normalcy...
I have about 10 pieces of evidence that Mathew Franklin Whittier protested Poe's theft of this poem. They have to be taken together. But they all presuppose other things that I have to prove. Let us say that I can prove that it was Mathew who wrote the star-signed reviews and essays for the 1844-46 New York "Tribune," and not Margaret Fuller, as historians believe. That, in itself, is a task. But let us say I have done this. (I have, unless you believe that Fuller would pretend to have been raised in a rural farmhouse, and to have been a freelancer for the paper.) Now, there are several clues leading from this one conclusion. The strongest one I haven't shared in this blog. I'm going to describe it without giving all the details.
But first, one also has to understand that Mathew was very well familiar with, and appreciative of, Aesop's Fables--and in particular, that version written in French verse by La Fontaine. And specifically, the English translation of La Fontaine published by Elizur Wright. Elizur Wright was Mathew's personal friend, and his editor on the Boston "Chronotype," to whom he wrote a series of letters from New York City signing "X.F.W." in 1847. But I am convinced that it was Mathew who actually translated these verses, which Wright published for him. This was Mathew's French homework (and poetry homework), when Abby, his first wife-to-be and a native French speaker, was tutoring him. They induced Wright to publish a trial balloon, a children's version, when they lived here in Portland in 1839; then, the year of Abby's death, 1841, Wright published a full two-volume set for adults. Mathew and Abby's names were never associated with that venture. But Mathew made several references to it throughout his writing career; and one of those references had to do with Poe's plagiarism of "The Raven."
But in order to understand that, you have to understand that Mathew communicated in code through his published writings, and one of his methods was to induce the knowing reader to look up his quotes. His message would be in that portion of the quote that he left out, or in the portion that followed immediately after. In one case,* he had a fictitious minister preaching from the "first book of Nickerdemus, seventh chapter, 42nd verse." Here is where past-life memory comes in. I immediately sensed that, since there is no Gospel of Nicodemus, he meant Nostradamus. There is, in fact, a 42nd verse in the seventh century of Nostradamus, and that verse is precisely on-target for something that must have happened in his private life with Abby. The published story is about town picnics, and a couple getting in trouble with the chaperones by daring to walk off together arm-in-arm. But the hidden quote has to do with a couple being caught in the kitchen, trying to poison the Great Prince (as I recall). So Mathew and Abby must have been caught making out in the kitchen by her father, the marquis.
Something I had never picked up on, before, is that when Abby wrote a story about their courtship, she gave the character representing Mathew the name "Diffident Jim." Mathew was the author of the "Ensign Stebbings" series in the "Carpet-Bag," which is erroneously attributed to Benjamin Drew. Other contributors jumped on the bandwagon, but you can discern Mathew's pieces because he called the character "Insine Stebbings." Here, "Insine Wiggin" is probably Abby's father, who is elsewhere referred to in Mathew's sketches as "the leftenant." Apparently, he adopted the role of an officer in local town military "musters," which Mathew, being raised Quaker, took a dim view of. This sketch about the picnic is taken from Mathew's only historically-recognized series, "Ethan Spike."
There are other examples. Mathew tells us, via the same method, that Ralph Waldo Emerson praised his philosophical depth in comparison with Margaret Fuller, who imagined she was superior but didn't get him at all. Or that's how I interpret it. In any case, that is found inside the elipses of a quote Mathew opens his parody of Fuller with, in 1852.
So here, Mathew makes a seemingly innocuous reference to one of the La Fontaine fables, where he is reviewing Poe's poetry compilation, "The Raven and Other Poems." If you look up the poem in question, it is comprised of two stanzas--and the second stanza outright descibes the theft of a manuscript.
Perhaps I should quote it--anyone interested can find Mathew's review of "The Raven and Other Poems." The Hathi Trust has those editions of the "Tribune" online, and it is also reproduced in Bean and Myerson's published version of these reviews. (Or, of course, you can save yourself the trouble by purchasing my sequel.) The La Fontaine fable reads:
The Cock and the Pearl
A cock scratched up one day,
A pearl of purest ray,
Which to a jeweller he bore.
I think it fine, he said,
But yet a crumb of bread
To me were worth a great deal more.
So did a dunce inherit
A manuscript of merit,
Which to a publisher he bore.
'Tis good, said he, I'm told,
Yet any coin of gold
To me were worth a great deal more.
Of course, Mathew doesn't quote the fable, itself. He merely mentions it in passing. Once you had read the review, and had seen how Mathew was using this reference in context, you would know that there is no question that he is accusing Poe of having stolen "The Raven."
I am not joking around here, and this is not magical thinking. It is outright proof, the "smoking gun" I had been looking for. But it is only proof with the background. Because I have to prove three things first: 1) his authorship of the star-signed reviews; 2) his authorship of, or at least his familiarity with, La Fontaine; and 3) his peculiar method of inserting code into his published works.
There are, as said, as many as 10 (I haven't counted them) examples of Mathew inserting these references about Poe, or, directly to Poe, through his published works. This is the strongest one--but it becomes even stronger when you take them all as a group. There's no question--Mathew accused Poe of this theft. There are also hints, in these covert messages from Mathew, that Poe had mocked him in return. Both Poe and Mathew were reviewers for major New York City newspapers at the time "The Raven" came out; both had been publishing for about the same amount of time, since 1827. The difference is that Mathew published only his own work; and, he published almost all of it anonymously. Poe published everything under his own signature, including work that wasn't his. Mathew was an actual literary genius; Poe was a fake genius. Poe was friends with two other prominent literary figures who falsely claimed Mathew's work at this time--Margaret Fuller, and Elizabeth Barrett (Browning). (Ironically, Poe thought that Fuller was writing the star-signed reviews, and, uncharacteristically for him, praised them, presumably on the strength of his friendship with Fuller.)
Now; if someone took enough time with me that I could provide all of this background, and would look at all of these examples taken together, I could prove that Mathew Franklin Whittier was the real author of "The Raven." The same goes for his and Abby's original authorship of "A Christmas Carol." One would think that this is a tremendous piece of good fortune--here I delve into a reincarnation case, and find that my subject was the author of not one, but two world classics in literature! But I am immediately dismissed. It would be bad enough for a person to claim one of these--but to say that the same historical author wrote both "The Raven" and "A Christmas Carol," and to insinuate that he was, in fact, that author in a past life--it's too good to be true.
Therefore, the sheer magnitude of my discoveries precludes my ever being taken seriously. It's something like the poor fellow who developed a car that ran on water (one of the inventors featured in the video series). His invention was too good. The guy who can extend your mileage from 30 miles per gallon to 60 miles per gallon, might get his invention acknowledged and used out there. But the guy who can run your car entirely on a small bottle of water, will never see the light of day.
Thank God my discovery has no corporate or military applications. I will simply be ignored. But that leaves me sitting on this--that Charles Dickens, Edgar Allan Poe, Elizabeth Barrett, and Margaret Fuller, were all plagiarists and phonies. All of them published Mathew Franklin Whittier's work as their own. Not only that, but their flagship works--"A Christmas Carol," "The Raven," "Lady Geraldine's Courtship," and these star-signed reviews for the "Tribune," respectively, were all stolen from Mathew.
It's not surprising at all, if you take Mathew to have been the dark planet circling the skies of 19th-century literature. If there was a prolific literary genius publishing anonymously in this era, it is a given that people would get famous claiming his work. And it is also a given that their claim to fame, the work they are remembered for, which has stood the test of time, would be the real work of genius that they, themselves, didn't write (and couldn't have written).
In other words, this is precisely what you would expect. But it's a total paradigm shift for literary scholars; just as reincarnation, proven, is a total paradigm shift for atheists and those who embrace traditional Western religion.
This is bigger than aliens, or at least as big, in its potential impact on society. But the alien advocates also aren't interested. I wrote to Paul Hellyer recently--he very politely wrote back he doesn't have time. I also wrote to Dr. Bruce Lipton, and he (or rather, his assistant) wrote back that he doesn't have time. Neither did Dr. Rupert Sheldrake, or Dr. Jim Tucker.
And I believe them, they don't have time. But as I wrote to Dr. Lipton, if only he understood what I'm sitting on, here, he would have time for this.
There are two ways it could break loose. The first is if a prominent figure took my part as an advocate. This is how Dr. Lipton came onto the public scene, writing a query letter many years ago (as he described in their recorded conversation) to Dr. Sheldrake. It doesn't look like this is going to happen, for me.
The second way is if scholars independently discover (or discover as a result of one of my query letters reaching a curious professor) that Dickens really didn't write "A Christmas Carol," and that Poe actually didn't write "The Raven." Once those things are established as academic fact, then at least the literary side of my discoveries won't seem so outlandish. I will simply have the other half of the puzzle, as to who wrote them. And it will turn out that I was right--Mathew Franklin Whittier really was the "dark planet," the missing puzzle piece of 19th-century literature.
But I will have said it--and documented it, in detail--before anybody else even suspected it. That may bring my reincarnation study--which is also proved to the same high standard--forcibly out before the public. In such a way that it can't be suppressed, because it is tied to these other very public literary discoveries.
In other words, the very thing that today seems my worst liability--my absurd claims to be the past-life author of two seemingly unrelated famous works--will be the thing that overcomes all attempts to suppress my proof of reincarnation.
See how it might work? This would have all been planned out before I incarnated, and by an entire team, not just by myself. I would just be the front-man in this effort.
So the others, in the astral realm, would be supervising the timing of this thing. It would have to hit, I think, precisely at the time when the status quo is sufficiently weakened, that it can't be fully suppressed when this scenario unfolded, as it might be, now.
Therefore, all of this could happen some years after my passing. My job at present is just to recover from years of super-stress, when I was caring for my Mom full time and writing these books simultaneously; and to be ready for the next step. My guess is that everything is going to remain "dormouse" (as Mathew was fond of saying), until it breaks loose. The timing, we don't know.
Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.
*This was the first instance of Mathew's embedded "code" that I recognized. Very early on, when I first saw a few of these "Ethan Spike" stories in 2005, I immediately felt, "I secretly embedded a lot of personal references in these stories." As regards the picnic, apparently the greatest sin was not that the couple were courting, but that they wanted to leave the town picnic to be alone together, i.e., that they both symbolically rejected society.
Music opening this page: "Battle We Have Won," by Eric Johnson
from the album, "Venus Isle"