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diff --git a/old/68683-0.txt b/old/68683-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2c7a71c..0000000 --- a/old/68683-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13466 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of American literary masters, by Leon H. -Vincent - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: American literary masters - -Author: Leon H. Vincent - -Release Date: August 4, 2022 [eBook #68683] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor, Charlie Howard, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN LITERARY -MASTERS *** - - - - - -Transcriber’s Note: Italic text is enclosed in _underscores_; boldface -text is enclosed in =equals signs=. - - - - - AMERICAN - LITERARY MASTERS - - BY LEON H. VINCENT - - [Illustration] - - BOSTON AND NEW YORK - HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY - The Riverside Press Cambridge - - - - - COPYRIGHT 1906 BY LEON H. VINCENT - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - _Published March 1906_ - - - - - TO - GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY - - - - -PREFACE - - -_The nineteen men of letters whose work is reviewed in this volume -represent an important half-century of our national literary life. The -starting-point is the year 1809, the date of “A History of New York by -Diedrich Knickerbocker.” No author is included whose reputation does -not rest, in part, on some notable book published before 1860._ - -_Readers of modern French criticism will not need to be told that -the plan of dividing the studies into short sections was taken from -Faguet’s admirable “Dix-Septième Siècle.”_ - -_I am indebted for many helpful criticisms to Mr. James R. Joy, to -Miss Mary Charlotte Priest, and especially to Mr. Lindsay Swift of the -Boston Public Library._ - - _L. H. V._ - -_January 23, 1906._ - - - - -_Contents_ - - - WASHINGTON IRVING - - I. _His Life_ 3 - - II. _His Character_ 10 - - III. _The Writer_ 13 - - IV. _Early Work: Knickerbocker’s History, Sketch Book, - Bracebridge Hall, Tales of a Traveller_ 14 - - V. _Historical Writings: Columbus, Conquest of Granada, - Mahomet_ 20 - - VI. _Spanish Romance: The Alhambra, Legends of the Conquest - of Spain_ 24 - - VII. _American History and Travel: A Tour on the Prairies, - Astoria, Life of Washington_ 27 - - - WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT - - I. _His Life_ 35 - - II. _His Character_ 44 - - III. _The Literary Craftsman_ 46 - - IV. _The Poet_ 50 - - V. _Latest Poetical Work: The Iliad and the Odyssey_ 58 - - - JAMES FENIMORE COOPER - - I. _His Life_ 65 - - II. _His Character_ 72 - - III. _The Writer_ 74 - - IV. _Romances of the American Revolution: The Spy, Lionel - Lincoln_ 75 - - V. _The Leather-Stocking Tales and Other Indian Stories_ - 77 - - VI. _The Sea Stories from The Pilot to Miles Wallingford_ - 82 - - VII. _Old-World Romance and New-World Satire: The Bravo, The - Heidenmauer, The Headsman, Homeward Bound, Home as - Found_ 89 - - VIII. _Travels, History, Political Writings, and Latest - Novels_ 93 - - - GEORGE BANCROFT - - I. _His Life_ 101 - - II. _His Character_ 108 - - III. _The Writer_ 110 - - IV. _The History of the United States_ 113 - - - WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT - - I. _His Life_ 123 - - II. _His Character_ 128 - - III. _The Writer_ 130 - - IV. _The Histories_ 132 - - - RALPH WALDO EMERSON - - I. _His Life_ 147 - - II. _His Character_ 157 - - III. _The Writer_ 159 - - IV. _Nature, Addresses, and Lectures_ 160 - - V. _The Essays, Representative Men, English Traits, - Conduct of Life_ 166 - - VI. _The Poems_ 176 - - VII. _Latest Books_ 182 - - - EDGAR ALLAN POE - - I. _His Life_ 189 - - II. _His Character_ 198 - - III. _The Prose Writer_ 201 - - IV. _Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque_ 203 - - V. _The Critic_ 211 - - VI. _The Poet_ 215 - - - HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW - - I. _His Life_ 221 - - II. _His Character_ 228 - - III. _The Poet_ 230 - - IV. _Outre-Mer, Hyperion, Kavanagh_ 233 - - V. _Voices of the Night, Ballads, Spanish Student, Belfry - of Bruges, The Seaside and the Fireside_ 236 - - VI. _Evangeline, Hiawatha, Miles Standish, Tales of a - Wayside Inn_ 240 - - VII. _Christus, Judas Maccabæus, Pandora, Michael Angelo_ - 245 - - VIII. _Last Works_ 249 - - - JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER - - I. _His Life_ 255 - - II. _His Character_ 264 - - III. _The Poet_ 266 - - IV. _Narrative and Legendary Verse_ 269 - - V. _Voices of Freedom, Songs of Labor, In War Time_ 273 - - VI. _Snow-Bound, Tent on the Beach, Pennsylvania Pilgrim, - Vision of Echard_ 277 - - - NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE - - I. _His Life_ 287 - - II. _His Character_ 293 - - III. _The Writer_ 296 - - IV. _The Short Stories: Twice-Told Tales, Mosses from an - Old Manse, The Snow-Image_ 298 - - V. _The Great Romances: Scarlet Letter, House of the Seven - Gables, Blithedale Romance, Marble Faun_ 302 - - VI. _Latest and Posthumous Writings: Our Old Home, - Note-Books, Dolliver Romance_ 314 - - - HENRY DAVID THOREAU - - I. _His Life_ 321 - - II. _His Character_ 325 - - III. _The Writer_ 327 - - IV. _The Books_ 328 - - - OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES - - I. _His Life_ 337 - - II. _The Man_ 341 - - III. _The Writer_ 344 - - IV. _The Autocrat and its Companions, Over the Teacups, Our - Hundred Days in Europe_ 345 - - V. _The Poet_ 349 - - VI. _Fiction and Biography_ 352 - - - JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY - - I. _His Life_ 359 - - II. _His Character_ 365 - - III. _The Writer_ 367 - - IV. _The Histories_ 369 - - - FRANCIS PARKMAN - - I. _His Life_ 379 - - II. _His Character_ 383 - - III. _The Writer_ 385 - - IV. _Early Work: Oregon Trail, Conspiracy of Pontiac, - Vassall Morton_ 387 - - V. _France and England in North America_ 390 - - - BAYARD TAYLOR - - I. _His Life_ 401 - - II. _His Character_ 407 - - III. _The Artist_ 409 - - IV. _Poetical Works_ 410 - - - GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS - - I. _His Life_ 417 - - II. _The Man_ 423 - - III. _The Writer and the Orator_ 424 - - IV. _Nile Notes of a Howadji, Prue and I, Trumps_ 427 - - V. _The Easy Chair_ 430 - - VI. _Orations and Addresses_ 433 - - - DONALD GRANT MITCHELL - - I. _His Life_ 439 - - II. _The Author and the Man_ 442 - - III. _The Writings_ 444 - - - JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 451 - - I. _His Life_ 453 - - II. _Lowell’s Character_ 461 - - III. _Poet and Prose Writer_ 463 - - IV. _Poems, The Biglow Papers, Fable for Critics, Vision of - Sir Launfal_ 465 - - V. _Under the Willows, The Cathedral, Commemoration Ode, - Three Memorial Poems, Heartsease and Rue_ 469 - - VI. _Fireside Travels, My Study Windows, Among my Books, - Latest Literary Essays_ 474 - - VII. _Political Addresses and Papers_ 479 - - - WALT WHITMAN - - I. _His Life_ 485 - - II. _The Growth of a Reputation_ 490 - - III. _The Writer_ 492 - - IV. _Leaves of Grass_ 494 - - V. _Specimen Days and Collect_ 503 - - VI. _Whitman’s Character_ 504 - - - - -I - -_Washington Irving_ - - -REFERENCES: - - [=E. A. Duyckinck=]: _Irvingiana, a Memorial of Washington - Irving_, 1860. - - =W. C. Bryant=: _A Discourse on the Life, Character, and Genius - of Washington Irving_, 1860. - - =Pierre M. Irving=: _The Life and Letters of Washington Irving_, - 1862–64. - - =C. D. Warner=: _The Work of Washington Irving_, 1893. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -Scotch and English blood flowed in Washington Irving’s veins. His -father, William Irving (whose ancestry has been traced by genealogical -enthusiasts to De Irwyn, armor-bearer to Robert Bruce), was a native -of Shapinsha, one of the Orkney Islands; his mother, Sarah (Sanders) -Irving, came from Falmouth. - -At the time of his marriage William Irving was a petty officer on an -armed packet-ship plying between Falmouth and New York. Two years -later (1763) he gave up seafaring, settled in New York, and started -a mercantile business. He enjoyed a competency, but like other -patriotic citizens suffered from the demoralization of trade during -the Revolution. His character suggested that of the old Scotch -covenanter. Though not without tenderness, he was in the main strict -and puritanical. - -Washington Irving was born in New York on April 3, 1783. He was the -youngest of a family of eleven, five of whom died in childhood. Irving -could perfectly remember the great patriot for whom he was named. He -was much indebted to the good old Scotchwoman, his nurse, who, seeing -Washington enter a shop on Broadway, darted in after him and presented -her small charge with ‘Please your Excellency, here’s a bairn that’s -called after ye!’ ‘General Washington,’ said Irving, recounting the -incident in after years, ‘then turned his benevolent face full upon me, -smiled, laid his hand on my head, and gave me his blessing.... I was -but five years old, yet I can feel that hand upon my head even now.’ - -Up to the age of fifteen Irving attended such schools as New York -afforded. He was not precocious. He came home from school one day (he -was then about eight) and remarked to his mother: ‘The madame says I am -a dunce; isn’t it a pity?’ - -Two of his brothers had been sent to Columbia College; that he was -not, may be attributed partly to ill health, partly to an indolent -waywardness of disposition and to the indulgence so often granted -the youngest member of a large family. Always an inveterate reader, -he contrived in time to educate himself by methods unapproved of -pedagogical science. He decided on a legal career and entered the -office of a well-known practitioner, Henry Masterton. During the two -years he was there he acquired some law and attained ‘considerable -proficiency in belles-lettres.’ He studied for a time with Brockholst -Livingston (afterwards judge of the Supreme Court), and later with -Josiah Ogden Hoffman. - -As a boy Irving had always ‘scribbled’ more or less, and in 1802 he -scribbled to some purpose, contributing the ‘Jonathan Oldstyle’ letters -to the ‘Morning Chronicle,’ a paper founded and edited by his brother -Peter Irving. His ambitions seemed likely to be frustrated by poor -health, and a trip abroad was advised. He went to the Mediterranean, -visited Italy, and spent a little time in France and England. The -journey was not without adventures. He saw Nelson’s fleet on its way -to Trafalgar; his boat was overhauled by pirates near Elba; and in -Rome he met Madame de Staël, who almost overpowered him by her amazing -volubility and the pertinacity of her questioning. - -On his return home Irving passed his examinations (November, 1806), and -was admitted to the bar with but slender legal outfit, as he frankly -confessed. He was enrolled among the counsel for the defence at the -trial of Aaron Burr at Richmond. There was no thought of taxing his -untried legal skill; he was to be useful to the cause as a writer in -case his services were needed. - -Law gave place to literature. Irving and J. K. Paulding projected a -paper, _Salmagundi_, to be ‘mainly characterized by a spirit of fun and -sarcastic drollery.’ William T. Irving joined in the venture. The first -number appeared on January 24, 1807. The editors issued it when they -were so minded, and after publishing twenty numbers, brought it to an -almost unceremonious close. - -The following year Peter and Washington Irving began writing a -burlesque account of their native town, a parody on Mitchill’s _A -Picture of New York_. Peter was called to Liverpool to take charge of -the English interests of Irving and Smith, and it fell to Washington -to recast the chapters already written and complete the narrative. -The book outgrew the design (as is the tendency of parodies), and was -published on December 6, 1809, as _A History of New York from the -Beginning of the World to the End of the Dutch Dynasty, by Diedrich -Knickerbocker_. It was received by the New York Historical Society, to -whom it was dedicated, with astonishment, and by the old Dutch families -with mingled emotions, among which that of exuberant delight was not in -every case the most prominent. - -For two years Irving conducted the ‘Analectic Magazine,’ published in -Philadelphia. During the exciting months which followed the British -attack on Washington (August, 1814), he was military secretary to the -governor of New York. Being of adventurous spirit, he welcomed with -joy the prospect of accompanying his friend Stephen Decatur on the -expedition to Algiers. Disappointed in this and unable to get the -fever of travel out of his blood, he sailed for England (May, 1815), -intending nothing more than a visit to his brother in Liverpool and to -a married sister in Birmingham. - -Peter Irving had been ill, and in consequence his affairs had fallen -into disorder. Washington undertook to disentangle them. He was -unsuccessful. To the intense mortification of the brothers they were -compelled to go into bankruptcy (1818), and Washington began casting -about for a way to supplement his slender income. He refused an -advantageous offer at home, and determined to remain in England. A -literary project had taken shape in his mind, and he proceeded to carry -it out. - -In May, 1819, Irving published the first part of _The Sketch Book -of Geoffrey Crayon_, containing five papers, one of which, ‘Rip Van -Winkle,’ is a little masterpiece. The attitude of the public towards -this venture convinced Irving that he might live by the profession of -letters. _The Sketch Book_ was followed by _Bracebridge Hall, or the -Humorists_ (1822), and by the _Tales of a Traveller_ (1824). This last -date marks a period in Irving’s literary life. - -The years which Irving spent abroad had their anxieties, their -depressions, their dull days, their long periods of drudgery. It is -a temptation to dwell on their pleasures and their triumphs. Irving -was fortunate in his friendships. He knew Scott, Campbell, Moore, and -Jeffrey, and had the amusement on one occasion of seeing his visiting -list revised by Rogers. He met Mrs. Siddons, marvelled at Belzoni, was -amused by the antics of Lady Caroline Lamb, breakfasted at Holland -House, and visited Thomas Hope at his country seat. In Paris he was -presented to Talma by John Howard Payne, ‘the young American Roscius -of former days,’ who had now ‘outgrown all tragic symmetry.’ He became -(in time) persona gratissima to John Murray, his English publisher; and -to be dear to one’s publisher must always be accounted among the great -rewards of literature. - -At the instance of Alexander Everett, the American Minister to Spain, -Irving, in February, 1826, went to Madrid to translate Navarrete’s -forthcoming collection of documents relating to Columbus. He presently -abandoned the plan for a more grateful task, the writing of an -independent account of the discovery of America, based on Navarrete, -and on ample materials supplied by the library of Rich, the American -consul at Madrid. To this he devoted himself with immense energy. The -work was published in 1828, and was soon followed by the _Conquest of -Granada_ and _Voyages of the Companions of Columbus_. - -In 1829 Irving became Secretary of the American Legation in London. -The Royal Society of Literature voted him one of their fifty guinea -gold medals, in recognition of his services to the study of history. -The honor, distinguished in itself, became doubly so to the recipient -because the other of the two awards for that year was bestowed on -Hallam. In June, 1830, the University of Oxford conferred on Irving the -degree of LL. D. In April, 1832, he sailed for America. He had been -absent seventeen years. - -After travels in various parts of the United States, including a long -journey to the far West with the commissioner to the Indian tribes, -Irving settled near Tarrytown. His home was a little Dutch cottage -‘all made up of gable ends, and as full of angles and corners as -an old cocked hat.’ Familiarly called ‘The Roost’ by its inmates, -this ‘doughty and valorous little pile’ is known to the world as -‘Sunnyside.’ With the exception of the four years (1842–46) he passed -in Spain as Minister Plenipotentiary, ‘Sunnyside’ was Irving’s -abiding-place until his death. - -His later writings are: _The Alhambra_, 1832; _The Crayon Miscellany_ -(comprising _A Tour on the Prairies_, _Abbotsford and Newstead -Abbey_, and _Legends of the Conquest of Spain_), 1835; _Astoria_ -(with Pierre M. Irving), 1836; _Adventures of Captain Bonneville, -U. S. A._ (edited), 1837; _Life of Goldsmith_, 1849; _Mahomet and his -Successors_, 1849–50; _The Chronicles of Wolfert’s Roost_, 1855; _The -Life of Washington_, 1855–59. - -Attempts were made to draw Irving into political life. He was offered -a nomination for Congress; Tammany Hall ‘unanimously and vociferously’ -declared him its candidate for mayor of New York; and President Van -Buren would have made him Secretary of the Navy. All these honors -he felt himself obliged to refuse. He accepted the Spanish mission -(offered by President Tyler at the instance of his Secretary of State, -Daniel Webster), because he believed himself not wholly unfitted for -the charge, and because it honored in him the profession of letters. - -Irving’s intellectual powers were at perfect command up to the -beginning of the last year of his life. Then his health began to fail -markedly, and the final volume of his _Washington_ cost him effort he -could ill afford. He died suddenly on November 28, 1859, and was buried -in the cemetery at Sleepy Hollow. - - -II - -IRVING’S CHARACTER - -Irving was broad-minded, tolerant, amiable, incapable of envy, quick to -forget an affront, and always willing to think the best of humanity. -His tactfulness was due in part to his large experience of life, but -more to the possession of a nature that was sweet, serene, frank, -and unsophisticated. For Irving was no courtier; he could as little -flatter as practise the more odious forms of deceit. His gifts of irony -and ridicule, supplemented with an extraordinary power of humorous -delineation, were never abused. It might be said of him, as of another -great satirist, that ‘he never inflicted a wound.’ - -His modesty was excessive. It is impossible to find in his writings -or his correspondence any hint that he was inclined to put unusual -value on his work. Grateful as he was for praise, it would never have -occurred to him that he had a right to it. With all his knowledge of -the world he was singularly diffident. Moore hit off this trait when he -said that Geoffrey Crayon was ‘not strong as a lion, but delightful as -a domestic animal.’ - -Not his least admirable virtue was a spirit of helpfulness where his -brother authors were concerned. Irving was ‘officious’ in the good -old sense of the word, glad to be of service to his fellows, untiring -in efforts to promote their welfare. He could praise their work, too, -without disheartening qualifications. The good he enjoyed, the bad he -put to one side. And he never forgot a kindness. A publisher who had -once befriended him, though fallen on evil days, found himself still -able to command some of Irving’s best manuscripts. - -Criticism never angered Irving. Personal attacks (of which he had his -share) were suffered with quiet dignity. He rarely defended himself, -and then only when the attack was outrageous. He could speak pointedly -if the need were. His reply to William Leggett, who accused him in -‘The Plain Dealer’ of ‘literary pusillanimity’ and double dealing, -is a model of effectiveness. One paragraph will show its quality. -Imputing no malevolence to Leggett, who doubtless acted from honest -feelings hastily excited by a misapprehension of the facts, Irving -says: ‘You have been a little too eager to give an instance of that -“plain dealing” which you have recently adopted as your war-cry. Plain -dealing, sir, is a great merit when accompanied by magnanimity, and -exercised with a just and generous spirit; but if pushed too far, and -made the excuse for indulging every impulse of passion or prejudice, it -may render a man, especially in your situation, a very offensive, if -not a very mischievous member of the community.’ - -Something may be known of a man by observing his attitude at the -approach of old age. Irving’s beautiful serenity was characteristic. -People were kind to him, but he thought their kindness extraordinary. -He wondered whether old gentlemen were becoming fashionable. - - -III - -THE WRITER - -Irving’s prose is distinguished for grace and sweetness. It is -unostentatious, natural, easy. At its best it comes near to being a -model of good prose. The most striking effects are produced by the -simplest means. Never does the writer appear to be searching for an -out-of-the-way term. He accepts what lies at hand. The word in question -is almost obvious and often conventional, but invariably apt. - -For a writer who produced so much the style is remarkably homogeneous. -It is an exaggeration to speak of it as overcharged with color. There -are passages of much splendor, but Irving’s taste was too refined to -admit of his indulging in rhetorical excesses. Nor is the style quite -so mellifluous as it seemed to J. W. Croker, who said: ‘I can no more -go on all day with one of his [Irving’s] books than I could go on all -day sucking a sugar-plum.’ The truth is that Irving is one of the most -human and companionable of writers, and his English is just the sort to -prompt one to go on all day with him. - -Yet there is a want of ruggedness, the style is almost too perfectly -controlled. It lacks the strength and energy born of deep thought and -passionate conviction, and it must be praised (as it may be without -reserve) for urbanity and masculine grace. - - -IV - -EARLY WORK - -_KNICKERBOCKER’S HISTORY_, _SKETCH BOOK_, _BRACEBRIDGE HALL_, _TALES OF -A TRAVELLER_ - -The dignified appearance of Diedrich Knickerbocker’s learned work, -the quiet simplicity of the principal title, and the sober dedication -gave no hint to the serious-minded that they were buying one of -the most extraordinary books of humor in the English language. The -deception could not last long, but it is to be hoped that on the day of -publication some honest seeker after knowledge took a copy home with -the intent to profit at once by its stores of erudition. - -On a basis of historical truth Irving reared a delightfully grotesque -historical edifice. The method is analogous to that children employ -when they put a candle on the floor that they may laugh at the odd -shadows of themselves cast on wall and ceiling. The figures are -monstrous, distorted, yet always resembling. Nothing could be at once -more lifelike and more unreal than Irving’s account of New Amsterdam -and its people under the three Dutch governors. - -Here is a world of amusement to be had for the asking. One reader will -enjoy the ironical philosophy, another the sly thrusts at current -politics, a third the boisterous fun of certain episodes, such as the -fight between stout Risingh and Peter Stuyvesant, the hint of which -may have been caught from Fielding’s account of how Molly Seagrim -valorously put her enemies to flight. But the book will always be most -cherished for its quaint pictures of snug and drowsy comfort, for its -world of broad-bottomed burghers, amphibious housewives, and demure -Dutch damsels wooed by inarticulate lovers smoking long pipes, and for -the rich Indian summer atmosphere with which the poet-humorist invested -the scenes of a not wholly idyllic past. - -_The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon_ is in one respect well named; it -has the heterogeneous character that we associate with an artist’s -portfolio. Notes of travel, stories, meditations, and portraits are -thrown together in pleasant disorder. A paper on ‘Roscoe’ is followed -by the sketch entitled ‘The Wife,’ and the history of ‘Rip Van Winkle’ -is succeeded by an essay on the attitude of English writers towards -America. In another sense the volume is not a mere sketch-book, -for each sketch is a highly finished picture. Here is often a -self-consciousness radically unlike the abandon of the _History of -New York_. At times Irving falls quite into the ‘Keepsake’ manner. A -faint aroma as of withered rose leaves steals from the pages, a languid -atmosphere of sweet melancholy dear to the early Nineteenth Century. - -Other pages are breezy enough. The five chapters on Christmas at -Bracebridge Hall, the essay on ‘Little Britain,’ on the ‘Mutability -of Literature,’ and that on ‘John Bull’ are emphatically not in the -‘Keepsake’ vein. Of themselves they would have sufficed to redeem -_The Sketch Book_ from the worst charge that can be brought against a -piece of literature,--the charge of being merely fashionable. But the -extraordinary vitality which this book has enjoyed for eighty-five -years it owes in the main to ‘Rip Van Winkle’ and ‘The Legend of Sleepy -Hollow.’ Written in small form, embodying simple incidents, saturated -with humor, classic in their conciseness of style, these stories are -faultless examples of Irving’s art. - -Irving dearly loved a lovable vagabond, and Rip is his ideal. The story -is told in a succession of pictures. The reader visualizes scenery, -character, incident, the purple mountains, the village nestling at -their feet, the ne’er-do-weel whom children love, the termagant wife, -the junto before the inn door, the journey into the mountains, the -strange little beings at their solemn game, the draught of the fatal -liquor, the sleep, the awakening, the return home, the bewilderment, -the recognition,--do we not know it by heart? Have we not read the -narrative a hundred times, trying in vain to penetrate the secret of -its perfection? Something of the logic of poetry went into the creation -of this idyl. We are left with the feeling that Irving himself could -not have changed a word for the better. - -‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’ is etched with a deeper stroke, is -broader, more farcical. There is no pathos, but downright fun and -frolic from the first line to the last. The audacious exaggeration -of every feature in the portrait of Ichabod Crane is inimitably -clever. The schoolmaster gets no pity and needs none. And the reader -is justified in his unsympathetic attitude when later he learns that -Ichabod, instead of having been carried off by the headless Hessian, -merely changed his quarters, and when last heard of had studied law, -written for the newspapers, and gone into politics. - -In _Bracebridge Hall_ Geoffrey Crayon returns to the English country -house where he had spent a Christmas, to enjoy at leisure old manners, -old customs, old-world ideas and people. Never were simpler materials -used in the making of a book; never was a more entertaining book -compounded of such simple materials. The incidents are of the most -quiet sort, a walk, a dinner, a visit to a neighboring grange or to a -camp of gypsies, a reading in the library or the telling of a story -after dinner. The philosophy is naïve, but the humor is exquisite and -unflagging. - -The reader meets his old friends, the Squire, Master Simon, old -Christy, and the Oxonian. New characters are introduced, Lady -Lillycraft and General Harbottle, Ready-money Jack, Slingsby the -schoolmaster, and the Radical who reads Cobbett, and goes armed with -pamphlets and arguments. Among them all none is more attractive than -the Squire. With his scorn of commercialism, his love of ancient -customs, his good-humored tolerance of gypsies and poachers, with his -body of maxims from Peacham and other old writers, and his amusing -contempt for Lord Chesterfield--these and other delightful traits make -Mr. Bracebridge one of the most ingratiating characters in fiction. - -_Bracebridge Hall_ contains interpolated stories, the ‘Stout -Gentleman,’ the ‘Student of Salamanca,’ and the finely finished tale of -‘Annette Delabarre.’ The papers of Diedrich Knickerbocker are not yet -exhausted; having furnished Rip and Ichabod to _The Sketch Book_ they -now contribute to _Bracebridge Hall_ the story of ‘Dolph Heyliger.’ - -The _Tales of a Traveller_, a medley of episodes and sketches, is -divided into four parts. In the first part the Nervous Gentleman of -Bracebridge Hall continues his narrations. These adventures, supposed -to have been told at a hunt dinner, or at breakfast the following -morning, are intertwined, Arabian Nights fashion, story within story. -They are grotesque (the ‘Bold Dragoon,’ with the richly humorous -account of the dance of the furniture), or weird and ghastly (the -‘German Student’), or romantic (the ‘Young Italian’). - -The second part, ‘Buckthorne and his Friends,’ displays the seamy side -of English dramatic and literary life. Modern realism had not yet been -invented, and it is easy to laugh over the sorrows of Flimsy, who, in -his coat of Lord Townley cut and dingy-white stockinet pantaloons, -bears a closer relation to Mr. Vincent Crummles than to any one of the -characters of _A Mummer’s Wife_. - -Part third, the ‘Italian Banditti,’ is in a style which no longer -interests, though many worse written narratives do. But in the last -part, ‘The Money-Diggers,’ Irving comes back to his own. He is again -wandering along the shores of the pleasant island of Mannahatta, -fishing at Hellegat, lying under the trees at Corlear Hook while a Cape -Cod whaler tells the story of ‘The Devil and Tom Walker.’ Ramm Rapelye -fills his chair at the club and smokes and grunts, ever maintaining a -mastiff-like gravity. Once more we see the little old city which had -not entirely lost its picturesque Dutch features. Here stands Wolfert -Webber’s house, with its gable end of yellow brick turned toward the -street. ‘The gigantic sunflowers loll their broad jolly faces over -the fences, seeming to ogle most affectionately the passers-by.’ -Dirk Waldron, ‘the son of four fathers,’ sits in Webber’s kitchen, -feasting his eyes on the opulent charms of Amy. He says nothing, -but at intervals fills the old cabbage-grower’s pipe, strokes the -tortoise-shell cat, or replenishes the teapot from the bright copper -kettle singing before the fire. ‘All these quiet little offices may -seem of trifling import; but when true love is translated into Low -Dutch, it is in this way it eloquently expresses itself.’ - -Had Irving’s reputation depended on the four books just now -characterized, it would have been a great reputation and the note of -originality precisely what we now find it. But there was need of work -in other fields to show the catholicity of his interests and the range -of his powers. - - -V - -HISTORICAL WRITINGS - -_COLUMBUS_, _CONQUEST OF GRANADA_, _MAHOMET_ - -The _Life and Voyages of Columbus_ is written in the spirit of tempered -hero-worship. It is free from the extravagance of partisans who make -a god of Columbus, and from the skeptical cavillings of those who -apparently are not unwilling to rob the great explorer of any claim he -may possess to virtue or ability. As Irving conceives him, Columbus -is a many-sided man, infinitely patient when patience is required, -doggedly obstinate if the need be, crafty or open, daring in the -highest degree, having that audacity which seems to quell the powers -of nature, yet devout, with a touch of the superstition characteristic -of his time and his belief. - -On many questions, fine points of ethnography, geography, navigation -and the like, Irving neither could nor did he presume to speak finally. -History has to be rewritten every few years wherever these questions -are involved. But the letters of Columbus, the testimony of his -contemporaries, the reports of friend and enemy, throw an unchanging -light on character. The march of science can neither dim nor augment -that light. Irving was emphatically a judge of human nature. He needed -no help in making up his mind what sort of man Columbus was. Modern -scholars with their magnificent scientific equipment sometimes forget -that cartography, invaluable though it is, is after all a poor guide -to character. And yet, by the testimony of one of those same modern -scholars, Irving’s life of the Admiral, as a trustworthy and popular -résumé, is still the best. - -One often wishes Irving had been less temperate. The barbarous tyranny -of the Spaniards over the Indians of Hispaniola stirs the reader to -deepest indignation. He longs for such treatment of the theme as -Carlyle might possibly have given. Here is need of thunderbolts of -wrath like unto those wielded by the Jupiter Tonans of history. But -taken as a whole, the book has extraordinary virtues. It is a clear, -full, well-ordered, picturesque, and readable narrative of the great -explorer’s career. There is no better, nor is there likely to be a -better. He who has time to read but one book on the discoverer of -America will not go amiss in reading this one. He who proposes to read -many books on the subject may well elect to read Irving’s first. - -The supplementary _Voyages of the Companions of Columbus_ narrates -the adventures of Ojeda, that dare-devil of the high seas, of -Nicuesa, of Vasco Nuñez, of Ponce de Leon. Though wanting the unity -of the preceding volumes, these narratives are of high interest, and -for vigor, animation, and picturesqueness must rank among the most -attractive examples of Irving’s work. - -While making collateral studies bearing on the life of Columbus, Irving -became so captivated with the romantic and chivalrous story of the fall -of Granada that he found himself unable to complete his more sober -task until he had sketched a rough outline of the new book. When the -_Columbus_ was sent to the press, Irving made a tour of Andalusia, -visited certain memorable scenes of the war, and on his return to -Seville elaborated his sketch into the ornate and glowing picture known -as _A Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada, by Fray Antonio Agapida_. - -The book is commonly described as romance rather than history. It was -written with a view to rescuing the ancient chronicle of the conquest -from the mass of amatory and sentimental tradition with which it was -incrusted, and of presenting it in its legitimate brilliancy. Irving -believed, too, that the world had forgotten or had failed to realize -how stern the conflict was. In the fifteenth century it was regarded -as a Holy War. Christian bigot was arrayed against Moslem bigot. -Atrocities of the blackest sort were perpetrated and justified in the -name of religion. The title-page says that the narrative is taken from -the manuscript of one Fray Antonio Agapida. The brother is an imaginary -character, a personification of monkish zeal and intolerance. When the -slaughter of the infidels has been unusually great, Fray Antonio makes -his appearance, like the ‘chorus’ of a play, and thanks God with much -unction. Through this mouth-piece Irving gives ironical voice to that -sentiment it is impossible not to feel in contemplating the barbarities -of a ‘holy’ war. A few readers were disturbed by the fiction of the -old monk. They ought to have liked him. He is an amusing personage and -comes too seldom on the stage. - -The _Life of Mahomet and his Successors_ has been spoken of as -‘comparatively a failure.’ If a book which sums up the available -knowledge of the time on the subject, which is written in clear, pure -English, which is throughout of high interest, in other words, which -has solidity, beauty, and a large measure of the literary quality--if -such a book is comparatively a failure, one hardly knows what can be -the critic’s standard of measurement. Irving was not acquainted with -Arabic. He drew his materials from Spanish and German sources. Yet it -is not too much to say that no better general account of Mahomet and -the early caliphs has been written. - - -VI - -SPANISH ROMANCE - -_THE ALHAMBRA_, _LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN_ - -For three or four months Irving lived in the ancient Moorish palace -and fortress known as the Alhambra. In his own phrase he ‘succeeded -to the throne of Boabdil.’ The place charmed him beyond all others in -the Old World. His craving for antiquity, his love of the exotic, his -passion for romance, his delight in day-dreaming were here completely -satisfied. He loved the huge pile, so rough and forbidding without, -so graceful and attractive within. The splendor of its storied past -intoxicated him. He roamed at will through its courts and halls, -steeping himself in history and tradition. He was amused at the life -of the petty human creatures, nesting bird-like in the crannies and -nooks of the vast edifice. To observe their habits, record their -superstitious fancies, listen to their tales, sympathize with their -ambitions or their sorrows, was occupation enough. The history of -the place could be studied in the parchment-clad folios of the Jesuit -library. As for the legends, they abounded everywhere. The scattered -leaves were then brought together in the volume called _Tales of the -Alhambra_. - -It is a Spanish arabesque. No book displays to better advantage the -wayward charm of Irving’s literary genius. Whether recounting old -stories of buried Moorish gold and Arabian necromancy, or describing -the loves of Manuel and bright-eyed Dolores, or extolling the grace -and intelligence of Carmen, he is equally happy. There was a needy -and shiftless denizen of the place, one Mateo Ximenes, who captured -Irving’s heart by describing himself as ‘a son of the Alhambra.’ A -ribbon-weaver by trade and an idler by choice, he attached himself to -the newcomer and refused to be shaken off. If it was impossible to -be rid of him, it was equally impossible not to like him. Life was -a prolonged holiday for Mateo during Geoffrey Crayon’s residence. -Whatever obligations he had, of a domestic or a business nature, were -joyfully set aside that he might wait upon the visitor. He became -Irving’s ‘prime-minister and historiographer-royal,’ doing his errands, -aiding in his explorations, and between times unfolding his accumulated -treasures of legend and tradition. He was flattered by the credence -given his stories, and when the reign of el rey Chico the second came -to an end, no one lamented more than Mateo, left now ‘to his old brown -cloak, and his starveling mystery of ribbon-weaving.’ - -Though not published until after Irving’s return to America, _The -Legends of the Conquest of Spain_ is a part of the harvest of this same -period. The book describes the decline of the Gothic power under Witiza -and Roderick, the treason of Count Julian, the coming of the Arabians -under Taric and Muza, and the downfall of Christian supremacy in the -Spanish peninsula. Irving was a magician in handling words, and this -volume is rich in proof of it. Here may be found passages of the utmost -brilliancy, such as the description of Roderick’s assault upon the -necromantic tower of Hercules, and the opening of the golden casket. - -The _Legends_ serves a double purpose. As a book of entertainment pure -and simple it is unsurpassed. It is also a spur to the reader to make -his way into wider fields, and to learn yet more of that people whose -history could give rise to these beautiful illustrations of chivalry -and courage. - - -VII - -AMERICAN HISTORY AND TRAVEL - -_A TOUR ON THE PRAIRIES_, _ASTORIA_, _LIFE OF WASHINGTON_ - -The list of Irving’s writings between 1835 and 1855 comprises eight -titles. Two of these books have been commented on. The others may be -despatched in a paragraph, as the old reviewers used to say. - -_Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey_ is an aftermath of the English -harvest of impressions and experiences. The _Life of Goldsmith_, -based originally on Prior’s useful but heavy work, and rewritten -when Forster’s book appeared, is accounted one of the most graceful -of literary biographies. _Wolfert’s Roost_ is a medley of delightful -papers on birds, Indians, old Dutch villages, and modern American -adventurers, together with a handful of Spanish stories and legends. - -There is a group of three books dealing with American frontier life -and western exploration. The first of these, _A Tour on the Prairies_, -shows how readily the trained man of letters can turn his hand to any -subject. Who would have thought that the prose poet of the Alhambra -was also able to do justice to the trapper and the Pawnee? _Astoria_ -(the first draft of which was made by Pierre M. Irving) is an -account of John Jacob Astor’s commercial enterprise in the Northwest. -Irving was amused when an English review pronounced the book his -masterpiece. He had really taken a deeper interest in the work than -he supposed possible when Astor urged it upon him. _Bonneville_ in a -manner supplements _Astoria_, and was written from notes and journals -furnished by the hardy explorer whose name the book bears. - -It was fitting that Irving should crown the literary labors of forty -years with a life of Washington. He had a deep veneration for the -memory of the great American. The theme was peculiarly grateful to -him. He seems to have regarded the work as something more than a -self-imposed and pleasant literary task--it was a duty to which he was -in the highest degree committed, a duty at once pious and patriotic. -Though he had begun early to ponder his subject, Irving was nearly -seventy when he commenced the actual writing; and notwithstanding -the book far outgrew the original plan, he was able to bring it to a -successful conclusion. - -Three quarters of the first volume are devoted to Washington’s -history up to his thirty-second year. It is a graphic account of the -young student, the surveyor, the envoy to the Indians, the captain -of militia. Irving shows how it is possible to present the ‘real’ -Washington without recourse to exaggerated realism. The remainder -of the volume is given to an outline of the causes leading to the -Revolution, to the affair of Lexington and Concord, the Battle of -Bunker Hill, Washington’s election to the post of commander-in-chief, -and the beginning of military operations around Boston. The next three -volumes are a history of the Revolutionary War, with Washington always -the central figure. The fifth volume covers Washington’s political -life, and his last years at Mount Vernon. - -Of two notable characteristics of this book, the first is its -extraordinary readableness. To be sure the Revolution was a great -event, and Irving was a gifted writer. Nevertheless for a historian who -delights in movement, color, variety, the Revolutionary War must often -seem no better than a desert of tedious fact relieved now and then by -an oasis of brilliant exploit. Irving complained of the dulness of many -parts of the theme. Notwithstanding this he brought to the work so much -of his peculiar winsomeness that the _Washington_ is a book always to -be taken up with pleasure and laid down with regret. - -The second notable characteristic is the freedom from extravagance -either of praise or of blame. The crime and the disgrace of Arnold do -not color adversely the historian’s view of what Arnold was and did -in 1776. No indignant partisan has told with greater pathos the story -of André. Nothing could be more temperate than Irving’s attitude -towards the Tories, or, as it is now fashionable to call them, the -Loyalists of the American Revolution. He could not deny sympathy to -these unfortunates who found themselves caught between the upper and -lower millstones, a people who in many cases were unable to go over -heart and soul to the cause of the King, and who found it even more -difficult to espouse the cause of their own countrymen. Even the -enemies of Washington, that is to say, the enemies of his own political -and military household, are treated with utmost fairness. - -For Washington himself, Irving has only admiration, which, however, -he is able to express without fulsome panegyric. He dwells on the -great leader’s magnanimity, on his evenness of temper, his infinite -patience, his freedom from trace of vanity, self-interest, or sectional -prejudice, his confidence in the justness of the cause, and his trust -in Providence, a trust which faltered least when circumstances were -most adverse. Irving admired unstintedly the warrior who could hold -in check trained and seasoned European soldiers with ‘an apparently -undisciplined rabble,’ the ‘American Fabius’ who, when the time was -ripe, was found to possess ‘enterprise as well as circumspection, -energy as well as endurance.’ - -The personal side of the biography is not neglected, but no emphasis is -laid on particulars of costume, manners, speech, what Washington ate -and drank, and said about his neighbors. Irving could have had little -sympathy with the modern rage for knowing the size of a great man’s -collar and the number of his footgear. The passion for such details is -legitimate, but it is a passion which needs to be firmly controlled. In -brief, throughout the work emphasis is laid where emphasis belongs, on -the character of Washington, who was the soul of the Revolutionary War, -and then on the moral grandeur of that great struggle for human rights. - - * * * * * - -A historian of American literature says: ‘Irving had no message.’ He -was not indeed enslaved by a theory literary or political; neither was -he passionate for some reform and convinced that his particular reform -was paramount. But he who gave to the world a series of writings which, -in addition to being exquisite examples of literary art, are instinct -with humor, brotherly kindness, and patriotism, can hardly be said not -to have had a message. - -Irving rendered an immense service to the biographical study of -history. Columbus, Mahomet, the princes and warriors of the Holy War, -are made real to us. Nor is this all. His books help to counteract that -tendency of the times to make history a recondite science. History -cannot be confined to the historians and erudite readers alone. Said -Freeman to his Oxford audience one day: ‘Has anybody read the essay -on Race and Language in the third series of my Historical Essays? It -is very stiff reading, so perhaps nobody has.’ And one suspects that -Freeman rejoiced a little to think it was ‘stiff reading.’ - -Nevertheless the public insists on its right to know the main -facts. And as Leslie Stephen says, ‘the main facts are pretty well -ascertained. Darnley was blown up, whoever supplied the powder, and the -Spanish Armada certainly came somehow to grief.’ That man of letters is -a benefactor who, like Irving, can give his audience the main facts, -expressed in terms which make history more readable even than romance. - -Irving perfected the short story. His genius was fecundative. Many -a writer of gift and taste, and at least one writer of genius, owes -Irving a debt which can be acknowledged but which cannot be paid. -Deriving much from his literary predecessors, and gladly acknowledging -the measure of his obligation, Irving by the originality of his work -placed fresh obligations on those who came after him. - -With his stories of Dutch life he conquered a new domain. That these -stories remain in their first and untarnished beauty is due to Irving’s -rich humor and ‘golden style,’ and to that indescribable quality of -genius by which it lifts its creations out of the local and provincial, -and endows them with a charm which all can understand and enjoy. - - - - -II - -_William Cullen Bryant_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =G. W. Curtis=: _The Life, Character, and Writings of William - Cullen Bryant_, Commemorative Address before the New York - Historical Society, 1878. - - =Parke Godwin=: _A Biography of William Cullen Bryant_, 1883. - - =John Bigelow=: _William Cullen Bryant_, ‘American Men of - Letters,’ 1890. - - =W. A. Bradley=: _William Cullen Bryant_, ‘English Men of - Letters,’ 1905. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -The author of ‘Thanatopsis’ was born at Cummington, a village among -the hills of western Massachusetts, on November 3, 1794. Through his -father, Doctor Peter Bryant, a physician, he traced his ancestry to -Stephen Bryant, an early settler at Duxbury; through his mother, Sarah -Snell, he had ‘a triple claim’ to ‘Mayflower’ origin. - -Doctor Bryant was a many-sided man. He collected books, read poetry -(Horace was his favorite), wrote satirical verse, was a musician and -something of a mechanic. He was an ardent Federalist, a member of the -Massachusetts legislature for several terms, and then of the senate. -He possessed in high degree the art of imparting knowledge. Medical -students thought themselves fortunate in being allowed to study under -his direction. Doctor Bryant’s father and grandfather were both -physicians, and he hoped that his second-born (who was named in honor -of the Scottish practitioner, William Cullen) would follow in the -ancestral footsteps. - -Bryant began to make verses in his eighth year. At ten he wrote an -‘address’ in heroic couplets, which got into newspaper print. The -boy used to pray that he might write verses which would endure. A -political satire, _The Embargo or Sketches of the Times_, ‘by a youth -of thirteen,’ if not in the nature of evidence that the prayer had been -answered, so delighted Doctor Bryant that he printed it in a pamphlet -(1808). A second issue containing additional poems was brought out the -next year. To this the author put his name. - -Bryant was taught Greek by his uncle, the Reverend Thomas Snell -of Brookfield, and mathematics by the Reverend Moses Hallock of -Plainfield. He entered the Sophomore class at Williams College in -October, 1810, and left the following May. He was to have spent the two -succeeding years at Yale, but the plan had to be abandoned for want of -money. Some time during the summer of 1811 ‘Thanatopsis’ was written in -its first form and laid aside. - -The poet began reading law with Judge Samuel Howe of Worthington, -who once reproached his pupil ‘for giving to Wordsworth’s _Lyrical -Ballads_ time that belonged to Blackstone and Chitty.’ He continued his -studies under William Baylies of Bridgewater, was admitted to the bar -at Plymouth in August, 1815, practised awhile at Plainfield, and then -removed to Great Barrington. The lines ‘To a Waterfowl’ were written -the night of the young lawyer’s arrival in Plainfield. - -He made progress in his profession and was called to argue cases -at New Haven and before the supreme court at Boston. The intervals -of legal business were given to poetry. Bryant’s father urged him -to contribute to the new ‘North American Review and Miscellaneous -Journal,’ the editor of which was an old friend. The young lawyer-poet -seeming indifferent to the suggestion, Doctor Bryant carried with -him to Boston two pieces he had unearthed among his son’s papers, -namely, ‘Thanatopsis’ in its first form, and ‘A Fragment’ now called -‘Inscription at the Entrance of a Wood.’ Both were printed in the -‘Review’ for September, 1817. Other poems followed, together with three -prose essays (on ‘American Poetry,’ on ‘The Happy Temperament,’ and on -the use of ‘Trisyllabic Feet in Iambic Verse’). He also contributed -poems to ‘The Idle Man,’ Richard Henry Dana’s magazine, and the ‘United -States Literary Gazette.’ - -In June, 1821, Bryant married Miss Frances Fairchild of Great -Barrington. In April of this year he had been invited to give ‘the -usual poetic address’ before the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Harvard. -‘The Ages’ was written for this occasion and publicly read on August -30. At the instance of his Boston friends, Bryant printed ‘The Ages’ -with seven other pieces in a little pamphlet entitled _Poems_. - -Never in love with the law, the poet began to regard it with aversion. -He was intellectually restless and took to play-writing. A farce, -‘The Heroes,’ in ridicule of duelling, was sent to his friends, the -Sedgwicks, in New York, who admitted its merits but doubted its chances -of success on the stage, Bryant, at the suggestion of Henry Sedgwick, -made two or three visits to the city in search of congenial work. He -thought he had found it when he undertook to edit ‘The New York Review -and Athenæum Magazine,’ a periodical made by amalgamating ‘The Atlantic -Magazine’ with the older ‘Literary Review.’ Bryant wrote to a friend -that it was a livelihood, ‘and a livelihood is all I got from the law.’ - -The editor of the ‘Review’ was active in various ways. He studied the -Romance languages, gave a course of lectures on poetry before the -Athenæum Society (1825), and annual courses on mythology before the -National Academy of the Arts of Design (1826–31). He was amused with -New York life; Great Barrington had not been amusing. He published -verse and prose in his own review and helped Sands and Verplanck edit -their annual, ‘The Talisman.’ Somewhat later he edited _Tales of the -Glauber Spa_ (1832), the joint work of Sands, Leggett, Paulding, Miss -Sedgwick, and himself.[1] - -The ‘Review’ suffered from changes in the business management, and -Bryant’s prospects became gloomy. At this juncture (1826) he was -invited to act as assistant to William Coleman, editor of the ‘New -York Evening Post.’ In 1828 he became ‘a small proprietor in the -establishment,’ and when Coleman died (July, 1829) Bryant assumed the -post of editor-in-chief and engaged as his assistant William Leggett, a -young New Yorker who had shown a marked ability in conducting a weekly -journal called ‘The Critic.’ ‘I like politics no better than you do’ -(Bryant had written to Dana), ‘but ... politics and a bellyfull are -better than poetry and starvation.’ - -His theory of the journalist’s function is well known. ‘He regarded -himself as a trustee for the public.’[2] Party was much, and Bryant was -a strong Democrat, but the people were greater than party. - -Bryant’s handling of public questions belongs to political history. His -lifelong fight against a protective tariff, his defence of Jackson’s -policy respecting nullification and the United States Bank, his -maintenance of the right to discuss slavery as freely as any other -subject about which there is a difference of opinion, his insistence -that the question of giving the franchise to negroes in the state -of New York be settled on its merits and as a local matter with -which neither Abolitionist nor slave-holder had anything to do, his -determined stand against the annexation of Texas and enlargement of -the area of slavery, his position on a multitude of questions which -in his life as a public censor he found it necessary to defend or to -attack--are fully set forth in the two biographies by his coadjutors. - -From 1856 Bryant acted with the Republican party, giving his cordial -support to Frémont and to Lincoln. He was a presidential elector in -1861. He advocated the election of Grant in 1868, and again in 1872, -the latter time reluctantly ‘as the best thing attainable in the -circumstances.’ - -To secure the independence and detachment that would enable him to -judge measures fairly, Bryant avoided intercourse with public men, kept -away from Washington, took no office, and was otherwise singular. In -this way he at least secured a free pen. As to the tone of the comments -on men in public life, Bryant approved the theory of a brother -editor who maintained that nothing should be said which would make it -impossible for him who wrote and him who was written about to meet at -the same dinner-table the next day. It is not pretended, however, that -he was uniformly controlled by this theory. What was the prevailing -idea of his journalistic manner may be known from Felton’s review of -_The Fountain_, in which he marvels that these beautiful poems can -be the work of one ‘who deals with wrath, and dips his pen daily in -bitterness and hate....’ - -Since 1821 no collection of Bryant’s verse had been made. Then after -ten years he gathered together eighty-nine pieces, including the eight -which had appeared in the pamphlet of 1821, and issued them as _Poems_, -1832. Through the friendly offices of Irving the book was reprinted -in England with a dedicatory letter to Samuel Rogers. Notwithstanding -favorable notices, both English and American, Bryant was despondent. -‘Poetic wares,’ he said, ‘are not for the market of the present day ... -mankind are occupied with politics, railroads, and steamboats.’ But -he found it necessary to reprint the volume in 1834 (with additional -poems), and again in 1836. - -His work in prose and verse after 1839 includes _The Fountain and -Other Poems_, 1842; _The White-Footed Deer and Other Poems_, 1844; -_Poems_, 1847; _Letters of a Traveller_, 1850; _Poems_, 1854; _Letters -from Spain_, 1859; _Thirty Poems_, 1864; _Letters from the East_, -1869; _The Iliad of Homer, translated into English blank verse_, 1870; -_The Odyssey_, 1871–72; _Orations and Addresses_, 1873; _The Flood of -Tears_, 1878. - -The introduction to the _Library of Poetry and Song_ is from Bryant’s -pen, as is also the preface to E. A. Duyckinck’s (still unpublished) -edition of Shakespeare. His name appears as one of the authors of _A -Popular History of the United States_ (1876), together with that of -Sydney Howard Gay, on whom fell the burden of the actual writing. It is -unfortunate that no adequate reprint of Bryant’s political leaders has -been made. As much ought to be done for him as Sedgwick did for Leggett. - -Bryant found relief from the strain of editorial work in foreign -travel. He was abroad with his family in 1834–36, visiting France, -Italy, and Germany. He did his sight-seeing deliberately, spending a -month in Rome, two months at Florence, three months in Munich, and -so on. He had been four months at Heidelberg, when, says one of his -biographers (in phrases which he never learned from Bryant), ‘His -studious sojourn at this renowned seat of learning was interrupted by -intelligence of the dangerous illness of his editorial colleague,’ and -he returned home. During a visit to England in 1845 Bryant met Rogers, -Moore, Herschel, Hallam, and Spedding, heard one of his own poems -quoted at a Corn Law meeting, where among the speakers were Cobden and -Bright, and carried a letter of introduction to Wordsworth from Henry -Crabb Robinson. He made yet other journeys to Europe and to the East. - -Notable among Bryant’s public addresses were the orations on Cooper -(1852) and Irving (1860) delivered before the New York Historical -Society. He was a founder and the third president of the Century -Association, first president of the New York Homœopathic Society, -president of the American Free Trade League, and member of literary -and historical societies innumerable. He held no public office, but -as time went on it might almost be said that an office was created -for him--that of Representative American. He seemed the incarnation -of virtues popularly supposed to have survived from an older and -simpler time. He was a great public character. The word venerable -acquired a new meaning as one reflected on the career of this eminent -citizen who was born when Washington was president, who as a boy had -written satires on Jefferson, and who as a man had discussed political -questions from the administration of John Quincy Adams to that of -Hayes. Other men were as old as he, Bryant seemed to have lived longer. - -‘And when at last he fell, he fell as the granite column falls, smitten -from without, but sound within.’[3] His death was the result of an -accident. He gave the address at the unveiling of the statue of -Mazzini in Central Park. Though wearied with the exertion and almost -overcome by the heat, he was able to walk to the house of a friend. -As he was about entering the door he fell backward, striking his head -violently against the stone step. He never recovered from the effects -of this fall, and died on June 12, 1878. - - -II - -BRYANT’S CHARACTER - -We seldom think of Bryant other than as he appears in the Sarony -photograph of 1873. With the snowy beard, the furrowed brow, the sunken -but keen eyes, a cloak thrown about the shoulders, he is the ideal poet -of popular imagination. Thus must he have looked when he wrote ‘The -Flood of Years,’ and it is difficult to realize that he did not look -thus when he wrote ‘Thanatopsis.’ We do not readily picture Bryant as -young or even middle-aged. - -Parke Godwin saw him first about 1837. He had a ‘wearied, almost -saturnine expression of countenance.’ He was spare in figure, of medium -height, clean shaven, and had an ‘unusually large head.’ He spoke with -decision, but could not be called a copious talker. His voice was -noticeably sweet, his choice of words and accuracy of pronunciation -remarkable. When anything was said to awaken mirth, his eyes gleamed -with ‘a singular radiance and a short, quick, staccato but hearty -laugh followed.’ He was more sociable when his wife and daughters were -present than at other times. Bryant’s reserve was always a conspicuous -trait. - -Under that prim exterior lurked fire and passion. ‘In court he often -lost his self-control.’ It was thought that Bryant might keep a promise -he once made of thrashing a legal opponent within an inch of his life -(‘if he ever says that again’) though the man was twice his size. Not -long after he became editor-in-chief of the ‘Post’ Bryant cowhided a -journalistic adversary who had bestowed upon him by name, ‘the most -insulting epithet that can be applied to a human being.’[4] It was the -only time his well-schooled temper outwitted him. - -His friendships were strong and abiding. He had an inflexible will and -a keen sense of justice, so keen that it drove him out of the law. No -thought of personal ease or advantage could turn him from a course he -had mapped out as right. He was generous. His benefactions were many -and judicious, and the manner of their bestowal as unpretending as -possible. - -Bryant’s ‘unassailable dignity’ was a marked trait of character. He -refused an invitation to a dinner given Charles Dickens by a ‘prominent -citizen’ of New York. ‘That man,’ said Bryant, ‘has known me for -years without asking me to his house, and I am not going to be made a -stool-pigeon to attract birds of passage that may be flying about.’ - -He was perfectly simple-minded, incapable of assuming the air of famous -poet or successful man of the world. Doubtless he relished praise, but -he had an adroit way of putting compliments to one side, tempering the -gratitude he really felt with an ironical humor. - - -III - -THE LITERARY CRAFTSMAN - -Bryant was a deliberate and fastidious writer. His literary executors -could never have said of him that they found ‘neither blot nor erasure -among his papers.’ His copy, written on the backs of old letters -or rejected manuscripts, was a wilderness of interlineations and -corrections, and often hard to decipher. - -Famous as he was for correctness, it seems a mere debauch of eulogy to -affirm that all of Bryant’s contributions to the ‘Evening Post’ do not -contain ‘as many erroneous or defective forms of expression’ as ‘can be -found in the first ten numbers of the _Spectator_.’ But there is little -danger of overestimating his influence on the English of journalism -during the forty years and more that he set the example of a high -standard of daily writing. He was sparing of advice, though in earlier -days he could not always conquer the temptation to amuse himself over -the English of his brother editors.[5] It has been denied that he had -any part in compiling the famous ‘index expurgatorius,’ but it is not -unreasonable to suppose that this list, embodying traditions of the -editorial office, had his approval. Bryant was for directness and -precision in writing. Ideas must stand on their merits, if they have -them, for such phrasing will define them perfectly. - -His prose style may be studied in his books of travel and his -addresses. The literary characteristic of _Letters of a Traveller_ and -its companion volumes is excessive plainness, a homely quality like -that of a village pedagogue careful not to make mistakes. One is often -reminded of the honest home-spun prose of Henry Wansey’s _Excursion to -the United States_. - - -Turning to the volume of _Orations and Addresses_, the reader finds -himself in another world. Bryant’s memorial orations are among the -best of their kind, stately, uplifting, and at times even majestic. -They belong to a type of composition which lies midway between oratory -and literature and unites certain characteristics of each. Written -primarily to be heard, and adapted to public utterance, they are also -meant to be read. They must stand the test of the ear and then that of -the eye. The listener must find his account in them as they come from -the lips of the orator, and he who afterward turns at leisure the pages -of the printed report must be satisfied. Bryant’s speeches are markedly -‘literary;’ and though oratorical they are wholly free from bombast. -Poet though he was, he built no cloud-capped towers of rhetoric. - -Coming now to his verse, we find that his poetic flights, though lofty, -were neither frequent nor long continued. Apparently he was incapable -of writing much or often. This seems true even after allowance is made -for his busy and exacting life as a journalist. For years together he -composed but a few lines in each year. - -His theory fitted his own limitations. Bryant maintained that there is -no such thing as a long poem, that what are commonly called long poems -are in reality a succession of short poems united by poetical links. -The paradox grows out of the vagueness attaching to the words ‘length’ -and ‘poem.’ Exactly what a poem is, we shall never know. That is a -shadowy line which divides poetry from verse. And there is no term so -unmeaning as length. When does a poem begin to be long--is it when the -poet has achieved a hundred verses or a thousand, when he has written -six cantos or twelve? - -To say, as Bryant is reported to have said, that ‘a long poem is no -more conceivable than a long ecstasy,’ is to make all poetry dependent -on an ecstatic condition. And it reduces all poetic temperaments to the -same level. Why may not poetry be an outcome of ‘the true enthusiasm -that burns long’? - -Bryant showed skill in handling a variety of metrical forms; it is -unsafe to say that he excelled only in blank verse. With declared -partisanship for the short poem, he nevertheless did not cultivate the -sonnet. Up to the time he was fifty-eight years of age he had written -but twelve, and for some of these he apologized, saying, ‘they are -rather poems in fourteen lines than sonnets.’ - -Comparing the length of his life with the slenderness of his poetical -product, we are tempted to bring against this eminent man the charge -of wilful unproductiveness. This reluctance, or inertia, or whatever -it may be called, has helped to give the impression of a lack of -spontaneity. We are aware of the effort through the very exactness -with which the thing has been done. Bryant resembled certain pianists -who plead as excuse for not playing, a lack of recent practice. When -after repeated urgings one of the reluctant brotherhood ‘consents to -favor us,’ he plays with precision enough but rarely with abandon. The -conscious and over-solicitous artist shows in every note. - -If much writing has its drawbacks, it also has its value. And the poet -who sings frequently cannot offer as a reason for not performing, the -excuse that his lyre has not been out of the case for weeks, and that -in all probability a string is broken. - - -IV - -THE POET - -The fine stanzas entitled ‘The Poet’ contain Bryant’s theory of his -art. The framing of a deathless poem is not the pastime of a drowsy -summer’s day. - - No smooth array of phrase, - Artfully sought and ordered though it be, - Which the cold rhymer lays - Upon his page with languid industry, - Can wake the listless pulse to livelier speed, - Or fill with sudden tears the eyes that read. - - The secret wouldst thou know - To touch the heart or fire the blood at will? - Let thine own eyes o’erflow; - Let thy lips quiver with the passionate thrill; - Seize the great thought, ere yet its power be past, - And bind, in words, the fleet emotion fast. - - * * * * * - - Yet let no empty gust - Of passion find an utterance in thy lay, - A blast that whirls the dust - Along the howling street and dies away; - But feelings of calm power and mighty sweep, - Like currents journeying through the windless deep. - -This is flat contradiction of the idea that entirely self-conscious and -self-controlled art can avail to move the reader. Bryant pleads for -deepest feeling in exercise of the poetic function; it is more than -important, it is indispensable. Of that striking poem ‘The Tides,’ he -said ‘it was written with a certain awe upon me which made me hope that -there might be something in it.’ The poem proved to be one of Bryant’s -noblest conceptions. Yet a lady of ‘judgment’ told one of Bryant’s -friends, who of course told him, that she did not think there was much -in it. - -Nature appeals to Bryant in her broad and massive aspects. ‘The -Prairies’ is an illustration. Gazing on the ‘encircling vastness’ for -the first time, the heart swells and the eye dilates in an effort to -comprehend it:-- - - Lo! they stretch, - In airy undulations, far away, - As if the ocean, in his gentlest swell, - Stood still, with all his rounded billows fixed, - And motionless forever. - -As the poet looks abroad over the vast and glowing fields, there sweeps -by him a vision of the races that have peopled these solitudes and -perished to make room for races to come. It is magnificent even if -it is not scientific. In the sense it gives of the spaciousness of -the prairies with the myriad sounds of life projected on the great -elemental silence, it is a true American poem. - -‘A Hymn of the Sea’ is another illustration of that largeness of view -characteristic of Bryant. Each thought is lofty and far-reaching. The -cloud that rises from the ‘realm of rain’ shadows whole countries, the -tornado wrecks a fleet, whirling the vast hulks ‘like chaff upon the -waves:’-- - - These restless surges eat away the shores - Of earth’s old continents; the fertile plain - Welters in shallows, headlands crumble down, - And the tide drifts the sea-sand in the streets - Of the drowned city. - -He conveys the idea not only of spaciousness but of endless duration in -the lines describing the coral worm laying his ‘mighty reefs,’ toiling -from ‘age to age’ until - - His bulwarks overtop the brine, and check - The long wave rolling from the southern pole - To break upon Japan. - -Certain lines in ‘A Forest Hymn’ are also remarkable for the sense they -give of vast reaches of time, stretching not forward but backward into -eternity:-- - - These lofty trees - Wave not less proudly that their ancestors - Moulder beneath them. Oh, there is not lost - One of earth’s charms: upon her bosom yet, - After the flight of untold centuries, - The freshness of her far beginning lies - And yet shall lie. - -The ‘Song of the Stars,’ though not one of Bryant’s happiest -poems,--the hypercritical reader feeling that the ‘orbs of beauty’ and -‘spheres of flame’ might have made a more appropriate metrical choice -for their song,--shows none the less the poet’s strength in dealing -with nature in the large. The lines ‘To a Waterfowl’ are magical in -part by virtue of the impression they make of immense distance. With -the poet’s penetrating vision we can see the solitary way through the -rosy depths, the pathless coast, and the one bit of life in - - The desert and illimitable air. - -Bryant’s mind readily lifts itself from the minute to the massive, as -in the poem ‘Summer Wind,’ a fine example of the crescendo effects he -knew so well how to produce. In a few lines he gives the sensation -of heat, closeness, exhaustion, and pictures the plants drooping in -a stillness broken only by the ‘faint and interrupted murmur of the -bee.’ His thought then sweeps upward to the wooded hills towering in -scorching heat and dazzling light, and then still higher to the bright -clouds, - - Motionless pillars of the brazen heaven-- - Their bases on the mountains--their white tops - Shining in the far ether.... - -The poet never wearies of this majestic pageantry of the natural world. -In ‘The Firmament,’ in ‘The Hurricane’ (imitated from Heredia), in -‘Monument Mountain,’ his chief thought is to translate the reader to -his own lofty vantage-ground. - -But Nature is not merely a spectacle, it has a power to heal and -invigorate. Life loses its pettiness when one leaves the city and -seeks the forest. The holy men who hid themselves ‘deep in the woody -wilderness’ perhaps did not well-- - - But let me often to these solitudes - Retire, and in thy presence reassure - My feeble virtue. Here its enemies, - The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink - And tremble and are still. - -The poet finds inspiration not alone in the terror of the storm, the -majesty of the forest, the gray waste of ocean, the mystery of the -night of stars, but in the humbler things, the rivulet by which he -played as a child, the violet growing on its bank, the hum of bees, -the notes of hang-bird and wren, the gossip of swallows, and the gay -chirp of the ground squirrel. ‘The Yellow Violet’ and the lines ‘To the -Fringed Gentian’ spring from this love of the unobtrusive charms of -Nature. Less familiar than these, but a faultless example of Bryant’s -art, is ‘The Painted Cup:’-- - - ... tell me not - That these bright chalices were tinted thus - To hold the dew for fairies, when they meet - On moonlight evenings in the hazel bowers, - And dance till they are thirsty. - -The poet will not call up ‘faded fancies of an ‘elder world.’ If the -fresh savannahs must be peopled with creatures of imagination, it may -be done without borrowing European elves:-- - - Let then the gentle Manitou of flowers, - Lingering among the bloomy waste he loves, - Though all his swarthy worshippers are gone-- - Slender and small, his rounded cheek all brown - And ruddy with the sunshine; let him come - On summer mornings, when the blossoms wake, - And part with little hands the spiky grass, - And touching, with his cherry lips, the edge - Of these bright beakers, drain the gathered dew. - -Bryant wrote poems of freedom. The earlier of these, ‘The Song of -the Greek Amazon,’ the ‘Massacre at Scio,’ the ‘Greek Partisan,’ and -‘Italy,’ voice his sympathy with the oppressed nations of the Old -World, the ‘struggling multitude of states,’ that ‘writhe in shackles.’ - -Among his later poems on the same theme, ‘Earth,’ ‘The Winds,’ ‘The -Antiquity of Freedom,’ and ‘The Battle Field’ are representative. -The first three with their many stately lines show how spontaneously -his thought, even when nature is not the subject, grows out of the -contemplation of nature and then returns to such contemplation as to -a resting place. ‘The Battle Field,’ the expression of a noble faith -in the outcome of ‘a friendless warfare,’ contains the most inspiring -of his quatrains, as it is one of the best contributions made by an -American poet to the stock of quotable English verse:-- - - Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again; - The eternal years of God are hers; - But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, - And dies among his worshippers. - -His patriotic poems are few in number, but Bryant’s reticence must -be taken into account. Coming from him, the verses mean more than if -they came from another. Two of the best are ‘Oh Mother of a mighty -Race’ and ‘Not Yet.’ The second of these, written in July, 1861, has a -finely imaginative stanza in which are pictured the dead monarchies of -the past eager to welcome another broken and ruined land among their -number:-- - - Not yet the hour is nigh when they - Who deep in Eld’s dim twilight sit, - Earth’s ancient kings, shall rise and say, - “Proud country, welcome to the pit! - So soon art thou like us brought low!” - No, sullen group of shadows, No! - -To the same year belong the spirited verses ‘Our Country’s Call:’-- - - Strike to defend the gentlest sway - That Time in all his course has seen. - - * * * * * - - Few, few were they whose swords of old - Won the fair land in which we dwell; - But we are many, we who hold - The grim resolve to guard it well. - Strike, for that broad and goodly land, - Blow after blow, till men shall see - That Might and Right move hand in hand, - And glorious must their triumph be! - -Such was the temper of men who had looked with philosophic composure -and curiosity on the movements of the sometimes well-nigh frenzied -abolitionists. The blow at the integrity of the nation fired their cool -patriotism to white heat. - -What lightness of touch Bryant had is shown in that exquisite lyric -‘The Stream of Life.’ He could be conventional, as in the love poem -where he celebrates ‘the gentle season’ when ‘nymphs relent,’ and very -sensibly advises the young lady ’ere her bloom is past, to secure her -lover.’ He was not strong in wit or humor. The verses ‘To a Mosquito’ -might have been read with good effect to a party of well-fed clubmen -after dinner, but finding them in the same volume with ‘A Forest Hymn’ -gives one an uncomfortable surprise, like finding a pun in Lowell’s -_Cathedral_. That Bryant could write agreeable narrative verse, ‘The -Children of the Snow’ and ‘Sella’ bear witness. That he is at his best -in meditative poems, lofty characterizations of Nature, grand visions -of Life and Death, is proved by hundreds of felicitous verses which -have become an inalienable part of our young literature. - -He never really excelled the work of his youth. Bryant will always be -known as the author of ‘Thanatopsis.’ This great vision of Death is his -stateliest poem and his best, the most felicitous of phrase and the -loftiest in imagery. Written by a stoic, magnificently stoical in tone, -it offers but a stoic’s comfort after all. Perhaps this is a secret of -its popularity, on the theory that while professed pagans are few the -instinct towards paganism still exists, and most among those who say -least about it. - - -V - -LATEST POETICAL WORK - -_THE ILIAD_ AND _THE ODYSSEY_ - -The collected edition of Bryant’s poems of 1854 contains a handful of -translations, twelve from the Spanish, four from the German, one each -from the French, the Provençal, the Portuguese, and the Greek. In 1864 -a translation of the fifth book of the _Odyssey_ was printed in the -volume entitled _Thirty Poems_. The praise which it called out gave -Bryant the impulse to further experiments of the same sort; and after -the death of his wife (in 1866), when the necessity was upon him of -forgetting his grief so far as possible in some engrossing work, he -undertook a version of the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ entire. - -He gave himself methodically to the task, translating about forty -lines a day. Later he increased the daily stint to seventy-five lines. -He chose blank verse because ‘the use of rhyme in a translation is a -constant temptation to petty infidelities.’ - -Bryant retained the misleading Latin forms of proper names. Worsley -says: ‘Not even Mr. Gladstone’s example can now make Juno, Mercury, -and Venus admissible in Homeric story.’ But Worsley confessed his own -inability to write Phoibos, Apollôn, and Kirké. Bryant’s argument -for his course looks specious: ‘I was translating from Greek into -English, and I therefore translated the names of the gods, as well as -the other parts of the poem.’ Probably he had an affection for the old -nomenclature, a sentiment like Macaulay’s, who ‘never could reconcile -himself to seeing the friends of his boyhood figure as Kleon, and -Alkibiadês, and Poseidôn, and Odysseus.’[6] - -An enthusiastic admirer of Bryant declares that in the opinion of -‘competent critics’ his versions of Homer ‘will hold their own with -the translations of Pope, Chapman, Newman, or the late Earl Derby.’ -Much depends on the question of what a ‘competent critic’ is, and which -one of several competent critics is to be taken as final authority. -Competent critics, who, by the way, seldom agree, have a habit of -agreeing on anything sooner than the merits of a version of Homer. -And when one remembers the fearful attack made by Matthew Arnold on -Newman (‘Any vivacities of expression which may have given him pain I -sincerely regret’)--he may well hesitate to take as a compliment the -statement that Bryant will ‘hold his own’ with Newman. - -The question of the higher merit of the poem rests with the experts -at last. Pessimists all, they are discouragingly hostile to metrical -versions of the _Iliad_. Yet the most uncompromising of them would -hardly deny a lay reader the privilege of enjoying Homer, in so far as -possible, through the medium of Bryant’s blank verse. They might even -be persuaded to admit that this version has a peculiar adaptability to -the needs of the public; that the clarity and beauty of the English, -the dignified ease of the measure, the sustained energy and vigor of -the performance as a whole, fit Bryant’s Homer in a high degree to -the use for which it was intended. The argument from popularity, that -always unsafe and often vicious argument, has a measure of force here. -Granting that Homer in any honest translation is better than no Homer -at all, may not the uncompromising scholars be called on to rejoice -that this more than honest, nay, this admirable translation of the -_Iliad_ has sold to the extent of many thousands of copies? Where there -are so many buyers, there must be readers not a few. - - * * * * * - -Bryant was one of those unusual men who have two distinct callings. -Much surprise has been expressed at his apparent ability to carry on -his functions of journalist and poet without clash. But is it true, or -more than superficially true, that he did so carry them on? To be sure, -he wrote his editorial articles at the newspaper office and his verses -elsewhere, but this is a mere mechanical distinction. A man of Bryant’s -depth of conviction and passionate temperament does not throw off care -when he boards a suburban train for his country home. - -The history of Bryant’s inner life has not been written, perhaps -cannot be. This is not to imply that his character was enigmatic and -mysterious, but merely to emphasize the fact of his extraordinary -reserve. More than most self-contained men he kept his own counsel. -Such a history would show how deep his experience of the world had -ploughed into him, and it might explain in a degree the remote and -stoical character of his verse. - -Bryant’s poetical work as a whole has an impassive quality often -described as coldness. Partly due to his genius and accentuated by the -excessive retouching to which he subjected his verse, it grew in still -larger measure out of his determination not to impart to his verse -any of the feverishness of spirit consequent upon a life of political -warfare. The poet held himself wonderfully in check, as a man of iron -will allows no mark of the strong passion under which he labors to -show in his face. Bryant was rarely betrayed into so much of personal -feeling as flashed out in that bitter stanza of ‘The Future Life:’-- - - For me the sordid cares in which I dwell, - Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the scroll; - And wrath has left its scar--that fire of hell - Has left its scar upon my soul. - -While the detachment was not complete, Bryant undoubtedly kept his -poetic apart from his secular life in a way to command admiration. -This he accomplished by extraordinary self-restraint. As a part of the -varied and long-continued discipline to which he subjected himself, -the self-restraint made for character. The question, however, arises -whether the poetry did not, in certain ways, suffer under the very -discipline by which the character developed. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [1] Bryant’s contributions were the stories entitled ‘Medfield’ - and ‘The Skeleton’s Cave.’ As originally planned the book was - to have been called _The Sextad_, but Verplanck, who would - have made the sixth author, withdrew. - - [2] John Bigelow. - - [3] W. C. Bronson. - - [4] Bryant’s apology to the public for his course, together with - Leggett’s statement as an eye-witness, will be found in the - ‘Evening Post’ of Thursday, April 21, 1831. Neither the - guarded account of the episode in Godwin’s _Bryant_, nor the - brief notice in Haswell’s _Reminiscences of an Octogenarian_ - is quite accurate. - - [5] As in an ironical leader commending journalists who refuse to - say that a man ‘was drowned,’ a dangerous innovation, and, - ‘to preserve the purity of their mother tongue,’ stick to - time-honored metaphors and say that the man ‘found a watery - grave.’--‘Evening Post,’ August 17, 1831. - - [6] G. O. Trevelyan. - - - - -III - -_James Fenimore Cooper_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =W. C. Bryant=: _A Discourse on the Life, Character, and Genius - of James Fenimore Cooper_, 1852. - - =T. R. Lounsbury=: _James Fenimore Cooper_, ‘American Men of - Letters,’ fourth edition, 1884. - - =W. B. Shubrick Clymer=: _James Fenimore Cooper_, ‘Beacon - Biographies,’ 1900. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - - -James Cooper was the eleventh of the twelve children of William and -Elizabeth (Fenimore) Cooper, of Burlington, New Jersey. He was born -in that picturesque town by the Delaware on September 15, 1789. The -name James, given him in honor of his grandfather, had also been -borne by his first American ancestor, who is said to have come from -Stratford-on-Avon, in 1679. In fulfilment of a promise to his mother -(whose family had become extinct in the male line), the novelist, in -1826, changed his name to Fenimore-Cooper. - -At the close of the Revolutionary War, William Cooper acquired large -tracts of land on Otsego Lake in New York, settled there in 1790, -founded the village still known as Cooperstown, and built for himself -a stately home to which he gave the name of Otsego Hall. He was the -first judge of the county and a member of Congress, a man of strong -character and agreeable address.[7] - -Cooper’s boyhood was passed amid picturesque natural surroundings, -on the edge of civilization, the scene of _The Deerslayer_ and _The -Pioneers_. He attended the village school, prepared for college with -the rector of St. Peter’s Church, Albany, entered Yale in the second -term of the Freshman year (Class of 1806), and was dismissed in the -Junior year for some boyish escapade the nature of which is unexplained. - -It was decided that he should enter the navy. There was then no -training school, and boys took the first lessons in seamanship in the -merchant marine. Cooper spent a year before the mast in the ‘Sterling,’ -sailing from New York to London, thence to Gibraltar, back to London, -and from London to Philadelphia. His experiences are set forth in the -early chapters of _Ned Myers_. The ‘Sterling’ lost two of her best -hands by impressment as soon as she reached English waters. Cooper’s -indignation at these outrages afterwards found voice through the lips -of Ithuel Bolt in the story entitled _Wing-and-Wing_. - -He was commissioned midshipman on January 1, 1808, and served awhile -on the ‘Vesuvius.’ In the following winter he was one of the party -sent to Oswego to build a brig for the defence of the lake, and became -acquainted with the regions described in _The Pathfinder_. In the -summer of 1809 he had charge of the gun-boats on Lake Champlain, and in -the autumn was ordered to the sloop of war ‘Wasp.’ - -He left the service on his betrothal with Miss Susan DeLancey of -Mamaroneck, New York, whom he married on January 1, 1811. For a few -years he lived the life of a landed proprietor, dividing his time -between Cooperstown, Scarsdale, and Mamaroneck. The dulness of a -novel he was reading aloud to his wife provoked him to say that he -could write a better one himself. Challenged to prove it, he produced -_Precaution_ (1820), a story of English life, following conventional -lines. It was apprentice work. The effort of composition taught Cooper -that he could write, but not that he could write well. He had no -conceit of the book, and refused it a place in his collected writings. - -In 1821 _The Spy, a Tale of the Neutral Ground_, was published; its -unqualified good fortune made Cooper a professed man of letters. From -that time on until his death, twenty-nine years later, he produced -books with uninterrupted regularity. - -_The Spy_ was followed by _The Pioneers, or the Sources of the -Susquehanna_, 1823; _The Pilot, a Tale of the Sea_, 1824; _Lionel -Lincoln, or the Leaguer of Boston_, 1825; _The Last of the Mohicans, -a Narrative of 1757_, 1826. But one of this group of four can be -pronounced a failure and two have had a success almost phenomenal in -the history of letters. - -Cooper shared the American passion for seeing foreign lands. The -proceeds of authorship enabled him to carry out a plan he had formed of -spending some time abroad. With his family and servants (a party of ten -in all), he set sail from New York on June 1, 1826. He proposed to be -gone five years. He overstayed that time by two years and five months. -From May, 1826, to about January, 1829, he held the ‘nominal position’ -of American consul at Lyons. His journeyings were made in a leisurely -way after the fashion of the time. Eighteen months were spent in Paris -and the vicinity, four months in London, and a few weeks in Holland, -Belgium, and Switzerland. The winter of 1828–29 was passed in Florence, -and was followed by a voyage to Naples. After spending some months at -Sorrento and Naples, he settled in Rome for the winter of 1829–30. -Thence to Venice, Munich, Dresden, and finally back to Paris. - -He published while abroad _The Prairie_, 1827; _The Red Rover_, 1828; -_Notions of the Americans, Picked up by a Travelling Bachelor_, 1828; -_The Wept of Wish-ton-Wish_, 1829; _The Water-Witch, or the Skimmer -of the Seas_, 1830; _The Bravo_, 1831; _The Heidenmauer, or the -Benedictines_, 1832; _The Headsman, or the Abbaye des Vignerons_, 1833. - -In November, 1833, Cooper returned to America. That and several ensuing -winters were passed in New York, the summers in Cooperstown. Later he -made Otsego Hall his permanent home. - -He soon became embroiled in quarrels with the press. While in Paris -his defence of Lafayette’s position in what is known as the ‘Expenses -Controversy’ had provoked from his native land criticism which Cooper -resented. He angered a part of the inhabitants of Cooperstown by making -clear to them that Three Mile Point (a wooded tract on the lake, long -used by the villagers as a picnic ground) was not theirs, as they -maintained, but a part of the Cooper estate. With no thought of robbing -them of their pleasure park, he insisted on their understanding that -they enjoyed its use by favor and not by right. - -For this the country papers assailed him. Combative by nature, Cooper -brought suits for libel and recovered damages. The novel spectacle of -an author baiting the newspapers ‘caused remark.’ The city press joined -in the attack, the ‘Courier and Enquirer,’ the ‘New York Tribune,’ -the ‘Albany Evening Journal,’ edited by Thurlow Weed, who once said -apropos of his skill in stirring up litigation: ‘There is something in -my manner of writing that makes the galled jades wince.’ Verdicts were -given in Cooper’s favor. More libels followed, more suits were brought, -more damages recovered. A cry arose that the liberty of the press was -endangered. Cooper did not think so. He was a bulldog; when he had once -fastened his teeth in a Whig editor, nothing could make him let go. He -continued his prosecutions until he made his detractors respect him. It -took about six years to do it. Bryant has described with grim humor the -novelist’s warfare with that leviathan the Press: ‘He put a hook into -the nose of this huge monster,’ said Bryant admiringly.[8] - -This warfare disturbed Cooper’s peace of mind, but in no wise -interrupted his literary activity. The following list records by -no means all that he wrote after 1834, but will suffice to show -his right copious and often happy industry. Besides ten volumes of -travels, Cooper published: _A Letter to his Countrymen_, 1834; _The -Monikins_, 1835; _The American Democrat_, 1838; _Homeward Bound, or -the Chase_, 1838; _Home as Found_, 1838; _The History of the Navy of -the United States of America_, 1839; _The Pathfinder, or the Inland -Sea_, 1840; _Mercedes of Castile, or the Voyage to Cathay_, 1840; -_The Deerslayer, or the First War Path_, 1841; The _Two Admirals_, -1842; _The Wing-and-Wing, or Le Feu-Follet_, 1842; _Wyandotté, or the -Hutted Knoll_, 1843; _Ned Meyers, or a Life before the Mast_, 1843; -_Afloat and Ashore, or the Adventures of Miles Wallingford_, 1844; -_Miles Wallingford_ (the second part of _Afloat and Ashore_), 1844; -_Satanstoe, or the Littlepage Manuscripts_, 1845; _The Chainbearer, or -the Littlepage Manuscripts_, 1846; _Lives of Distinguished American -Naval Officers_, 1846; _The Redskins, or Indian and Injin_, 1846; _The -Crater, or Vulcan’s Peak_, 1847; _Jack Tier, or the Florida Reefs_, -1848; _The Oak Openings, or the Bee Hunter_, 1848; _The Sea Lions, or -the Lost Sealers_, 1849; _The Ways of the Hour_, 1850. - -_The Spy_ was dramatized and played successfully.[9] Dramatizations -were also made of _The Pilot_, _The Red Rover_, _The Water-Witch_, -_The Pioneers_ (‘The Wigwam, or Templeton Manor’), and _The Wept of -Wish-ton-Wish_ (‘Miantonomah and Narrahmattah’). An original comedy, -‘Upside Down, or Philosophy in Petticoats,’[10] was withdrawn after -four performances. No satisfactory account exists of Cooper’s earnings -by literature. It is believed that in the later years he was obliged to -write, if not for the necessities of life, at least for the comforts -and luxuries. - -The hostility provoked by his energetic criticisms subsided in time. -There was even a project on foot in New York to pay him the compliment -of a public dinner as a proof of returning confidence. His untimely -illness put to one side the question of honors of this poor sort. - -Cooper died at Otsego Hall on September 14, 1851. - - -II - -HIS CHARACTER - -Cooper was a democrat in theory but not in practice. The rude -‘feudalism’ in which his boyhood was passed fostered the aristocratic -sentiment. A residence abroad, in the obsequious atmosphere with which -the serving classes invest any one who has the appearance of wealth, -aggravated it. No one could have been more heartily ‘American’ than -Cooper; but he made distinctions and his countrymen abhorred the -distinctions. - -Pride of this not unreasonable sort may go hand in hand with genuine -modesty. Cooper was more unpretentious than his enemies were willing to -allow. With a reputation that would have opened many doors he made no -capital of it; he had no mind ‘to thrust himself on all societies.’ - -He was never slow to make use of the inalienable American privilege -of speaking one’s mind. In 1835 the theory of the entire perfection -of the American character was seldom challenged, at least by a native -writer. That Cooper should entertain doubts on the subject was thought -monstrous. It was resented in him the more because of his manner. -Opinions quite as radical might have been uttered wittily and the -end accomplished. Cooper had little wit. His touch was heavy and he -was in dead earnest. He lacked neither courage, nor honesty, nor -highmindedness, nor generosity, nor yet judgment (if his temper was -unruffled), but he was entirely wanting in tact, and largely wanting in -geniality of the useful, if superficial, sort, which lessens the wear -and tear of human intercourse. - -A philosopher divides famous men into two classes: those who are -admired in their own homes (as well as in the world), and those who are -admired anywhere but at home. Cooper belonged to the first class rather -than the second. This proud, irascible, contentious, dogmatic man of -letters enjoyed the unswerving loyalty and deep affection of every -member of his family. And from this his biographer argues an essential -sweetness of nature. - -Cooper somewhere says: ‘Men are as much indebted to a fortuitous -concurrence of circumstances for the characters they sustain in this -world, as to their personal qualities.’ It was his ill-luck to have -the accidents of his character often mistaken for the character itself. - - -III - -THE WRITER - -Cooper’s English at best, though fluent and spirited, is without grace; -at worst it is clumsy and intractable. This writer of world-wide fame -is singularly wanting in literary finish. He is not careless but -colorless, not slovenly but neutral. He succeeds almost without the aid -of what is commonly called ‘style.’ He is read for what he has to say, -not for the way in which he says it. There are surprises in store for -the reader, but they are not to be found in the perfect word, the happy -phrase, or the balance of a sentence, but always in the unexpected turn -of an adventure, in a well-planned episode abounding in incident, in -the release of mental tension following the happy issue out of danger. -As was said of another copious writer, ‘he weaves a loose web;’ one -might add that it is often of coarse fibre. In few writers of eminence -is form so subservient to contents. The defect was due to haste, to -the natural and lordly contempt of a spontaneous story-teller for the -niceties of rhetoric. - -IV - -ROMANCES OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION - -_THE SPY_, _LIONEL LINCOLN_ - -Life in that unhappy strip of country known during the Revolution as -‘the neutral ground,’ Westchester County, New York, is the subject -of _The Spy_. Here frequent and bloody encounters took place between -skirmishers from the opposing armies. Marauding bands, ostensibly -‘loyal’ or ‘patriotic,’ though often composed of banditti, made life a -misery and a terror to peaceably inclined householders. Cooper wrote -from first-hand traditions. The family of his wife had been loyalists, -and the most famous of Westchester County raiders was a DeLancey. - -The chief character is Harvey Birch, the Spy. Professing to be in the -employ of the British, he is the most trusted of Washington’s secret -agents. His devotion to his chief is a passion, almost a religion. -Mean of appearance, niggardly in his mode of life, he is capable of -the last degree of personal sacrifice. His patriotism is of the most -exalted kind, since it can have no proportionate reward. He must live -(perchance die) detested by the people for whom he risks his life -daily. Cooper makes us deeply interested in this uncouth being, who, -persecuted to the point of despair, and even brought to the gallows, -finds always a way of escape. Birch gambled with his life in stake. -It was a desperate throw when he destroyed the bit of paper signed by -Washington. - -The romantic hero of the story is Peyton Dunwoodie, a youth whose ‘dark -and sparkling glance’ played havoc with the hearts of impressionable -ladies. But Peyton was true, and loved but one. More to the modern -taste are the humors of Lawton and Sitgreaves, of Sergeant Hollister -and Betty Flanagan. ‘Mr. Harper’ is impressive, and the mystery of his -character well sustained. The ladies of ‘The Locusts’ have the quaint -charm inseparable from other-day manners and costume. To be sure one of -them, who seems likely to die of love, is mercifully killed by a random -bullet, and another becomes a maniac. Novel-readers wanted a deal for -their money in 1821. But Frances Wharton is a likable little creature, -though her talk does not in the least resemble that of Miss Clara -Middleton. - -As an Irish bishop said of _Gulliver’s Travels_, the book contains -improbabilities. The device of a masque which converts young Henry -Wharton into the counterfeit presentment of an old gray-headed negro is -far-fetched. _The Spy_ was not intended to be a realistic novel. - -Cooper projected another story on the background of the Revolution. -_Lionel Lincoln_, for all the work put on it, was not a success. It had -merits among which the merit of spontaneity is not conspicuous. Had the -failure been less apparent, the novelist might have been tempted to -continue the ‘Legends of the Thirteen Republics.’ - - -V - -THE LEATHER-STOCKING TALES AND OTHER INDIAN STORIES - -A French critic once remarked that nothing was so like a _chanson -de geste_ as another _chanson de geste_. Readers have deplored the -fact that nothing was so like a Leather-Stocking tale as another -Leather-Stocking tale. But _The Pioneers_, the first of the series in -order of composition, bears little resemblance to the others, and as -a picture of life in a New York village at the end of the Eighteenth -Century has a historical value. The narrative is firm in texture. -The characters are thirty in number, and every man in his humor. The -Judge, Cousin Richard, Mr. Grant the clergyman, all the town oddities, -Monsieur Le Quoi, Major Hartmann, Doolittle, Kirby, and Benjamin -are real and humanly interesting. The dialogue is fresh, racy, and -appropriate. There is no effort at compression; winter evenings were -long in 1824. - -The book holds one by the scenes and characters rather than by the -‘fable.’ The mystery of ‘Edwards,’ and the coming to life of old Major -Effingham, are well enough; but the strength of the story is in the -episodes, such as that where Hiram Doolittle, supported by Jotham -and Kirby, tries to serve the warrant on Natty Bumppo, in the trial -of the old hunter, or the capital scene where Natty is put into the -stocks, and the chivalrous major-domo, Benjamin, insists on sharing his -punishment, and cheering the heart-broken old man with comfortable and -picturesque words. Presently Doolittle came to enjoy the fruit of his -victory. Venturing too near, he found himself in the tenacious grasp of -the irate major-domo. Benjamin’s legs were stationary, but his fists -were free, and he proceeded to work away with ‘great industry’ on Mr. -Doolittle’s face, ‘using one hand to raise up his antagonist, while -he knocked him over with the other;’ he scorned to strike a fallen -adversary. - -_The Pioneers_ would merit a high place in American fiction were -it only on account of that original character, Natty Bumppo, or -‘Leather-Stocking.’ He is natural, easy, attractive. In the other books -(always excepting _The Prairie_), there is more of invention. Putting -it in another way, the first Natty Bumppo is like a study from life, -while the others often leave the impression of being studies from the -first study. - -By changing the background, the costume, the accessories, and making -his hero younger or older, Cooper found him available for more exciting -dramas than that played in Templeton. - -Leather-Stocking next appears as ‘Hawkeye,’ the scout, in _The Last -of the Mohicans_, a narrative based on the massacre of Fort William -Henry in 1757, and, all things considered, the most famous of Cooper’s -novels. It is an out-and-out Indian story, good for boys and not -bad for men, being vigorous, brilliant, and packed with adventure. -The capture, by a band of Montcalm’s marauding Iroquois, of the two -daughters of the old Scottish general, their rescue by Hawkeye, -Chingachgook, and Uncas, their recapture, the pursuit and the thrilling -events in the Indian villages, form the staple of a book which without -exaggeration may be called world-renowned. - -If _The Last of the Mohicans_ suffers from one fault more than another, -it is from a superabundance of hair-breadth escapes. The novelist heaps -difficulties on difficulties, all of which appear insurmountable, and -are presently surmounted with an ease that makes the reader half angry -with himself for having worried. - -As might have been expected, in growing younger Natty has grown -theatrical; he appears too exactly at the critical moment to perform -the deed of cool bravery expected of him. It could hardly be otherwise; -_The Last of the Mohicans_ is a romance, and in romances such things -must be. Chingachgook, that engaging savage, has for so many years met -the romantic ideal of the American Indian that it is unlikely he will -ever be disturbed in his place in the reader’s esteem. His rôle of -white man’s friend was played in _The Prairie_ by Hard-Heart, the young -Pawnee chief. - -_The Prairie_ has an originality all its own. This strange and sombre -tale brings together an oddly assorted group of people, some of -whom--the squatter and his family in particular--are drawn with rude -strength. There are weak points in the plot. The carefully guarded tent -with its hidden occupant is a poor device for compelling attention. Dr. -Battius, endlessly talkative about genus and species, is a tiresome -personage. The justification of the story as a work of art is to be -sought in the descriptions of the ‘desert,’ in the impressions given of -immeasurable distance and illimitable space, the abode of mystery and -terror. The passages describing the stampede of a herd of buffalo, the -night surprise of the trapper and his friends by the Sioux, the escape -of Hard-Heart from the torture-stake, are all done with a masterly -stroke. - -Natty Bumppo figures in _The Prairie_ as an old man of eighty-seven. -His eye has lost its keenness of vision and his hand its steadiness. -But the heart is undaunted (‘Lord, what a strange thing is fear!’) and -the mind fertile in expedients. At times the trapper appears in almost -superhuman proportions; he is mythical, like a hero of antiquity. -The attachment between the ancient hunter and his dog is exquisitely -described. In the beautiful account of Leather-Stocking’s last hour no -touch is more poetic than that where the dying man discovers that the -faithful Hector is dead. He will not say that a Christian can hope to -meet his hound again; but he asks that Hector be buried beside him; no -harm, he thinks, can come of that. - -Thirteen years after the publication of _The Prairie_ appeared _The -Pathfinder_, and one year after that _The Deerslayer_. The series was -now complete, forming ‘something like a drama in five acts.’ _The -Pathfinder_ shows Natty in mature manhood, and (for the comfort of -all who require this test of their heroes of fiction) a victim of -unrequited love. Exposed to the wiles of the most treacherous of all -Mingos, Cupid, the quondam hunter, hunted in turn, takes defeat like -the man he is. In _The Deerslayer_ the chronicle is completed with a -group of scenes from Natty’s youth. On the shores of Otsego Lake, while -defending old Hutter’s aquatic home, the young man learns the first -lessons in the art of war. - -Cooper wrote yet other Indian stories. Two may be taken note of in this -section: _The Wept of Wish-ton-Wish_, a narrative of the Connecticut -settlements in ‘King Philip’s’ time, and _Wyandotté_, an episode of -frontier life in 1775. The latter is realistic. Cooper was on his own -ground and knew the Willoughby Patent and the Hutted Knoll much as -he knew ‘Templeton’ and Otsego Lake. _The Wept of Wish-ton-Wish_ is -pure romance. In spite of the labored speech of the Puritan settlers -and the metaphorical flights of Metacom and Conanchet, the story is -enthralling. That is a genuinely pathetic scene where Ruth Heathcote -seeks to awaken in the mind of Narramattah, her lost daughter, now the -wife of the Narragansett chief, some faint memory of her childhood, -and the account of Conanchet’s death at the hands of the Mohicans is a -strong and dramatic piece of writing. - - -VI - -THE SEA STORIES - -FROM _THE PILOT_ TO _MILES WALLINGFORD_ - -_The Pilot_ is an imaginary episode in the life of John Paul Jones. -Cooper has given his hero a poetic character. ‘Mr. Gray’ applies -science to the problem before him up to the critical moment, and then -trusts to intuition, to his genius, and finds wind and wave owning -him their master. The new note is in the vivid descriptive passages, -couched in terms of practical seamanship, but so graphically put -that the most ignorant of lubbers can be depended on to read with a -quickened pulse. Notable among these are the rescue of the frigate from -the shoals, and the fight between the ‘Alacrity’ and ‘Ariel.’ - -There is much human nature in the speech of the men if not of the -women. The dialogue between Borroughcliffe and Manual would not shame -books more celebrated for humor than _The Pilot_. Vast refreshment -can be found in the racy and picturesque talk of Long Tom Coffin, the -most original character in Cooper’s gallery of seamen; also in that -of Boltrope, who from an early ‘prejudyce’ against knee-breeches (he -somehow always imagined Satan as wearing them) never became fully -reconciled to the ship’s chaplain until that worthy left off ‘scudding -under bare poles’ and garbed himself like other men. Dillon, the -lawyer, is too obviously the scoundrel. As the ‘Cacique of Pedee,’ -however, he serves a good end. His kinsman, Colonel Howard, walks the -stage with dignity, a worthy specimen of the loyalist of the American -Revolution, and typical of the class for whom Cooper had much sympathy. - -The young women are far from being lay figures. They have beauty, -intelligence, courage, even audacity. That they are too perfect in -feature, form, manner, was a defect common to all fiction of the time; -the art of making a heroine of a plain woman was in its infancy. -Cooper, who could describe a girl, had always a deal of trouble to -make her talk. Did he never listen to the conversation of those -interesting creatures known, in the parlance of his day, as ‘females’? -Would Alice Dunscombe, meeting her lover after a separation of six -years, have used the phrases Cooper put into her lips? All these young -women might with justice have complained that the speaking parts -assigned them were not representative. But they were at the author’s -mercy and did as they were told. - -Cooper’s principal biographer, to whom we are all vastly indebted, says -that ‘the female characters of his earlier novels are never able to do -anything successfully but faint.’ This is unfair. Katherine Plowden, -a brunette beauty, whom Professor Lounsbury has allowed himself to -forget, goes habited _en garçon_ to seek her lover, and does not faint -when she finds him, only laughs like the gay Rosalind she is. - -The story of ‘Mr. Gray the pilot’ is good, but _The Red Rover_ -is better. Cooper gave the public something new in pirates. The -old-fashioned corsair, in theatrical phrase, looked his part. He swore -horribly, was awful to behold, black-whiskered, visibly blood-stained, -a walking stand of arms, like the monsters described in Esquemeling’s -_Buccaneers of America_. Unlike L’Olonnois, of evil memory, the -captain of the ‘Dolphin’ is almost a Brummell; his cabin is a boudoir, -and he has the wit to eschew the old-fashioned device of skull and -cross-bones. One is inclined, however, to laugh when the pirate ‘throws -his form on a divan’ and bids music discourse. The Rover was somewhat -given to posing, and in moments of deep thought wore a ‘look of faded -marble.’ - -There is nothing fantastic in Wilder, the young captain, and nothing to -be desired in his handling of the ‘Royal Caroline.’ The description of -the flight before the strange cruiser is a splendidly nervous piece of -writing. From the moment when the Bristol trader disentangles herself -from the slaver’s side in the harbor of Newport until she becomes -a wreck on the high seas and the diabolical pursuer passes like a -hurricane, the interest is cumulative. - -The book has its quota of garrulous old salts, some of whom talk too -much, others not enough. ‘Mister Nightingale’ promises well, but has -little of value to say after his discourse anent the quantity of sail -a ship may carry in a white squall off the coast of Guinea. The reader -will find amusement in the other characters, notably Fid and that -strange being, Scipio Africanus. - -_The Water-Witch_ concerns a mysterious and beautiful smuggling -brigantine with a wonderful gift for eluding Her Majesty’s revenue -cruiser under command of Captain Ludlow. The time is the close of Lord -Cornbury’s administration, the scene, New York harbor and the adjacent -estuaries. The story is fantastic and melodramatic, and the dialogue -stilted, even for Cooper. Compared with _The Red Rover_, a romance like -_The Water-Witch_ is hard reading. With such characters as Alderman Van -Beverout, Alida de Barbérie, and ‘Seadrift’ with her epicene beauty, it -is not surprising that _The Water-Witch_ should have been dramatized. - -_The Two Admirals_ is an engaging picture of manly affection. He who -has made the acquaintance of Sir Gervaise Oakes and his friend Richard -Bluewater is to be congratulated, for a more sterling-hearted pair of -worthies is seldom to be found. Other pleasant company may be had for -the asking; the aged baronet Sir Wycherly Wychecombe, hospitable to -excess, bemoaning the inconvenience of not having a satisfactory heir, -and wondering why his brother never married, though he had never given -himself the trouble to undergo the discipline of wedlock. Agreeable -in their several ways are Mildred Dutton, Wycherly Wychecombe the -young Virginian, and Galleygo the top man turned steward, he of the -picturesque language. The story has a conventional plot, and one is -supposed to be eager to know the validity of the Virginian’s claim to -the ancient estate of the Wychecombes. The plot is in danger of being -forgotten when Cooper carries his people to sea, and describes the -action between French and English fleets off Cape la Hogue. - -_Wing-and-Wing_ relates the adventures of a French privateer in -the Mediterranean in 1798. One has not to read far before becoming -enamoured of the diabolical little lugger and her audacious captain. -As creatures of romance go, the good-humored and handsome Raoul -Yvard (alias ‘Sir Smees’) is real and attractive. His arguments -with Ghita (they talk theology not at all after the manner of Mrs. -Humphry Ward’s characters) move one to turn the pages hurriedly. Raoul -may be forgiven; Ghita drove him to it, being orthodox and fond of -proselyting. One can always take refuge with the vice-governatore and -the podestà. These worthies are long-winded, but it were unfair to call -them dull. - -Ithuel Bolt, that long-legged, loose-jointed son of the Granite State, -is new in Cooper’s gallery of seamen. He makes an interesting figure -in the wine-shop at Porto Ferrajo, his chair, creaking under his -weight, tipped back on two legs against the wall, the uprights digging -into the plaster, his knees apart, ‘you fancy how,’ and his long -arms over the backs of neighboring chairs, giving him a resemblance -to a spread eagle. Next to the wine of the country, which he abuses -while succumbing to its influence, he detests the saints. Filippo, -the Genoese sailor, undertakes a feeble defence. Says the Yankee: ‘A -saint is but a human--a man like you and me, after all the fuss you -make about ’em. Saints abound in my country, if you’d believe people’s -account of themselves.’ Cooper says that Bolt, after his return to -America, became a deacon. This is no more incredible than the statement -that he also became a teetotaler. - -The pages of old reviews would probably show how Cooper’s delineation -of Englishmen affected English readers. Our cousins over the water -must have been difficult if they quarrelled with the spirit in which -the portraits of Cuffe, Griffin, Winchester, and Clinch were painted, -all being good men and true in their various capacities. In describing -Nelson and the ‘Lady Admiraless’ the novelist undertook a difficult -task. He was adroit enough to avoid bringing the famous beauty too -often on the stage. - -_Afloat and Ashore_ and _Miles Wallingford_ form a continuous story -of almost a thousand pages. There is a mixture of love and adventure, -the love being depicted as Cooper usually does it, neither better nor -worse, and the sea-episodes as only Cooper could do them. - -A capital passage in _Afloat and Ashore_ is that describing the -encounter with the savages off the coast of South America. Even more -spirited are those chapters of _Miles Wallingford_ in which the young -captain of the ‘Dawn’ relates how he was overhauled successively by a -British man-of-war, a French privateer, and a piratical lugger, and how -he escaped them all only to be wrecked at last in the Irish Sea. Among -a dozen or so of characters Marble is a typical Cooper seaman, a man -of many resources, as witness how he outwitted Sennit. He was patriotic -too, and on his first visit to London was chagrined at being obliged to -admit that St. Paul’s was better than anything they had in Kennebunk. - - -VII - -OLD-WORLD ROMANCE AND NEW-WORLD SATIRE - -_THE BRAVO_, _THE HEIDENMAUER_, _THE HEADSMAN_, _HOMEWARD BOUND_, _HOME -AS FOUND_ - -_The Bravo_ was the first of a group of stories on themes suggested -to their author during his stay on the Continent. It deals with -Venetian life during the decline of the Republic. Jacopo Frontoni, the -reputed bravo, becomes party to the iniquitous system which conceals -crimes committed in the interest of the oligarchy, by throwing the -suspicion on himself, all to the end that he may save his aged father, -unjustly imprisoned by the state. Under this odium Jacopo lives until -life becomes unendurable. At the moment he is meditating flight he -is himself enmeshed in the toils and dies by the hand of the public -executioner. A power which holds that it can do no wrong has a short -way with servants who might betray its tortuous policy. - -Jacopo comes too near to being a saint. He would have been more -lifelike had he been guilty of one at least of the twenty-five murders -laid at his door. Even a hired assassin of the Fifteenth Century might -show filial piety. - -His fate more or less involves that of the old fisherman of the -lagoons, Antonio, a representative of that helpless, oppressed class -which is without rights save the right of being punished if it does -not obey. Antonio is a nobly pathetic character, one of the finest to -which Cooper’s imagination has given being. His patience, his love for -the grandchild taken from him by the state to serve in the galleys, his -courage in pleading before the Doge and even in the dread presence of -the Council of Three that the boy may be given back to him until he has -been formed in habits of virtue, are strong and beautiful traits. - -Violetta and Don Camillo furnish the love motive, without which a -romance of Venice were barren. We sympathize with them and rejoice in -their escape. More than this the author could not ask. - -That the story contains anachronisms admits of no doubt. It may be -that the arraignment of the oligarchy is too unrelieved. On the other -hand, the virtues of the narrative are many. The movement is rapid, the -sentences clear, the various strands of interest artfully woven, and -the conclusion inevitable and dramatic. - -_The Heidenmauer_ deals with the manners and the antagonisms of the -time when the schism of Luther was undermining the Church. Far less -engrossing than its predecessor and weighted with a cumbrous style, -the book has its right valiant warriors and militant churchmen, its -burghers, peasants, and other dramatis personæ of German romance. There -are characters like Gottlob and old Ilse whose speech is always fresh -and agreeable. The French abbé is voluble and might have been wittier. -That one does not sit down to a table spread with an intellectual feast -like that served in _The Monastery_ or _The Abbot_, is no reason for -disdaining the fare served in _The Heidenmauer_. - -In _The Headsman_ we follow the story of a highborn girl who has given -her heart to a young soldier of fortune only to discover in him the son -of that most loathed of beings, the official executioner of Berne. The -office is hereditary, and were the youth’s real condition known the -odious duties would in time fall on him. It is a foregone conclusion -that Sigismund shall be found to be of noble birth, and Adelheid’s -reward proportioned to the greatness of her soul. This is but one -thread of a fairly complicated and romantic plot. The interest of the -narrative is well sustained and the denouement unanticipated. None of -these three romances is, strictly speaking, a novel of purpose, and -the least attractive deserves friendlier critical treatment than is -commonly accorded it. - -In the same group may be placed _Mercedes of Castile_, which, if -it cannot hold the attention by reason of the loves of Don Luis de -Bobadilla and Mercedes, and the fate of the unfortunate Ozema, may be -read (by whoever can take history well diluted with fiction) for the -story of Columbus’s first voyage. - -_The Monikins_ contrasts the ways of men with the ways of monkeys, -much to the disadvantage of men. Really it is no duller than some of -the professed satire of the present day; it is merely longer and more -desperately serious. - -_Homeward Bound_ and _Home as Found_ form two parts of a single -novel. The satire of the first part is forgotten in the movement -of the narrative, the sea-chase, the wreck off the African coast, -the fight with the Arabs. The second part is a diatribe on New York -and Cooperstown in particular, and America in general. The chief -characters, the Effinghams, mean well, but ‘they have an unfortunate -manner,’ and their disagreeable traits are not so piquant as to be -entertaining. Steadfast Dodge, the editor, is almost as unreal as -the Effinghams. Captain Truck is a genuine brother man, resourceful -as master of the ‘Montauk,’ and not helpless when figuring (without -his connivance) as a great English author, at Mrs. Legend’s literary -soirée. - -Horatio Greenough had the ‘Effingham’ books in mind when he wrote to -Cooper: ‘I think you lose hold on the American public by rubbing down -their shins with brickbats as you do.’ - - -VIII - -TRAVELS, HISTORY, POLITICAL WRITINGS AND LATEST NOVELS - -Cooper was a giant of productivity. Some brief comment has been made -on twenty-three of his novels. It is impossible in the limits of this -study to do much beyond giving the titles of his remaining books. - -_The History of the Navy of the United States of America_ begins with -‘the earliest American sea-fight’ (May, 1636), when John Gallop in a -sloop of twenty tons captured a pinnace manned by thieving Indians, -and closes with the War of 1812. The noteworthy features of the book -are accuracy, independence, severity of style, and freedom from -spread-eagleism. The brief _Chronicles of Cooperstown_, written in a -plain way, has the natural interest attaching to the subject and the -author. - -_A Letter to his Countrymen_, partly autobiographical, is absorbing -in its bitter earnestness. _The Travelling Bachelor_ purports to be -the letters of a cosmopolite, a man of fifty, to various members -of his club, recounting his travels in the United States. The book -is historical, statistical, argumentative. It treats of government, -manners, art, literature, of fashions in dress and of peculiarities of -speech. As an attempt on the part of a man of strong prejudices to take -an objective view of his own country, it is singularly interesting. -Were its seven hundred closely printed pages lightened with humor or -relieved by any grace of expression, _The Travelling Bachelor_ would be -a vastly entertaining work. - -_The American Democrat_ is a collection of short essays, forty-five in -number, on the American republic, liberty, parties, public opinion, -property, the press, demagogues, the decay of manners, individuality, -aristocrat and democrat, pronunciation, slavery, etc., etc. The -tone of the comments is intentionally censorious, and often proves -exasperating. Having been long absent from America, Cooper found -himself to a certain degree ‘in the situation of a foreigner in his own -country.’ On this account he was prepared to note peculiarities. Praise -and blame are mingled. _The American Democrat_ sets forth high ideals, -as may be seen, for example, in the suggestive essay on party. The book -is courageous but wanting in suavity. - -_Sketches of Switzerland_ and _Gleanings in Europe_, comprising ten -volumes in the original editions, are studies of Continental and -English life. They contain a multitude of spirited, pungent, and true -observations. Lacking the ‘antiseptic of style,’ the books are no -longer read. - -Between 1845 and 1850 Cooper published eight novels. Three of the -eight, _Satanstoe_, _The Chainbearer_, and _The Redskins_, are -narratives supposed to be drawn from the ‘Littlepage Manuscripts.’ -The first is not only the best, but is also one of the most genial of -all Cooper’s novels. Corny Littlepage had attractive friends, such -as the mettlesome youth Guert Ten Eyck, a splendid specimen of the -free-handed, royally generous Dutch-American. Jason Newcome, on the -other hand, embodies Cooper’s never latent hostility to New England. -The pictures of old days in New York and Albany are brilliant and -highly finished, and the encounter with the Indians in Cooper’s most -spirited vein. - -_The Crater_ is a history of the adventures of Mark Woolston of -Bristol, Bucks County, Pennsylvania, who was shipwrecked on a -volcanic island in the Pacific, and with the able seaman Bob Betts -set himself to solve the problem of existence. What with gardening, -poultry-raising, boat-building, tempests, earthquakes, exploration -of neighboring islands, colonization, savages, and pirates, the book -resolves itself into one of the infinite variations of _Robinson -Crusoe_. After twenty-nine chapters of this sort of thing comes an -absurd and irrelevant conclusion. - -All the later novels, _Jack Tier_, _The Sea Lions_, _Oak Openings_, and -_The Ways of the Hour_, are hard reading, yet the least happy of them -has passages betraying the master’s hand. _The Sea Lions_ stands out by -virtue of the powerful descriptions of an Antarctic winter; but neither -Captain Spike’s mission to the gulf, nor the revelation of fat, profane -Jack’s true station and sex, nor yet the malapropisms of Mrs. Budd (she -would say ‘It blew what they call a Hyson in the Chinese seas’), can -make _Jack Tier_ more than tolerable. - - * * * * * - -Cooper’s greatest achievements were his stories of the sea and the -forest. His real creations are sailors, backwoodsmen, old soldiers, -and Indians. Whether his red men are conceived in the spirit of modern -ethnological science can matter but little now. They are neither -so close to Chateaubriand’s idealized savage, nor so far from the -real Indian as is generally believed. That Cooper had no skill in -representing contemporary society is plain enough; but the failure -of _Home as Found_ need not have been as complete as it was. Haste -and anger must bear the blame of that literary disaster. Where he -deals with manners of the past, as in _Satanstoe_, he is often most -felicitous. With his novel of _The Bravo_ he was in line with the -Romantic movement. How far he comprehended that movement, or was -influenced by it, is a more intricate problem. - -Modern literature can show but few authors more popular than Cooper. He -has been praised extravagantly; but the fact that Miss Mitford thought -him as good as Scott ought not to prejudice us against him. And he has -been damned without measure; but over against Mark Twain’s unchivalrous -attack on his great fellow countryman may be set the royally generous -tributes of Balzac and of Dumas. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [7] Judge Cooper’s _A Guide in the Wilderness_, Dublin, 1810, was - reprinted in 1897 with an introduction by J. F. Cooper [the - Younger], throwing much light on the manners of the times and - the character of his ancestor. - - [8] One of the most extraordinary of the suits arose from - criticism of the _Naval History_. Cooper had refused to take - the popular side of a heated controversy and to join in - assailing Elliott, Perry’s second in command at the Battle - of Lake Erie. The suit, against Stone of the ‘Commercial - Advertiser,’ was settled by arbitration, and in Cooper’s - favor. Lounsbury’s _Cooper_, pp. 200–230. - - [9] Park Theatre, New York, March, 1822. - - [10] Burton’s Theatre, New York, June, 1850. - - - - -IV - -_George Bancroft_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =W. M. Sloane=: ‘George Bancroft in Society, in Politics, in - Letters,’ ‘The Century Magazine,’ January, 1887. - - =S. S. Green=: ‘George Bancroft,’ _Proceedings of the American - Antiquarian Society_, April 29, 1891. - - =A. McF. Davis=: ‘George Bancroft,’ _Proceedings of the American - Academy of Arts and Sciences_, vol. xxvi, 1891. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -The Bancrofts have been settled in America since 1632. Among the -historian’s ancestors were men of marked traits of character. -Bancroft’s grandfather, a farmer of Essex County, Massachusetts, had -such a reputation for piety and judgment that he was called on to act -as an umpire in the bitter dispute between Jonathan Edwards and his -church at Northampton. - -The father of the historian, Aaron Bancroft, a pioneer of American -Unitarianism, was for fifty years pastor of the Second Church of -Worcester. His distinguishing trait was ‘a deep-seated abhorrence of -anything like mental slavery.’ He was an ardent student of American -history and the author of an _Essay on the Life of George Washington_ -(1807), a popular book in its own day and well worth the reading in -ours. George Bancroft thought ‘that his own inclination toward history -was due very much to the influence of his father.’ - -There is a story (probably apocryphal) that in his youth Aaron Bancroft -fought at Lexington and Bunker Hill. During Shays’s Rebellion, when -the insurgent officers proposed to quarter themselves in private -houses at Worcester, the minister guarded his own door and told a -group of officers who approached that they were rebels, and that ‘they -would obtain no entrance to his house but by violence.’ The officers -immediately rode away. - -George Bancroft was born at Worcester on October 3, 1800. He prepared -for college at Phillips Academy, Exeter, New Hampshire, and was -graduated at Harvard in 1817. Edward Everett, the newly appointed -professor of Greek, who was then studying at Göttingen, urged -President Kirkland to send some graduate of marked powers to Germany -with a view to his preparing himself to teach at Harvard. The choice -fell on Bancroft. He spent two years at Göttingen and obtained his -doctorate. Among his professors were Heeren, Dissen, Eichhorn, and -Blumenbach; Heeren’s influence was the most profound and the most -lasting. His range of studies was wide, including, as it did, history, -German literature, Greek philosophy, natural history, Scripture -interpretation, Arabic, Syriac, and Persian. - -From Göttingen, Bancroft went to Berlin, where he heard the lectures of -Savigny, Schleiermacher, and Hegel, and made the acquaintance of Voss, -W. von Humboldt, and F. A. Wolf. He had the fortune to meet Goethe -once at Jena, and again at Weimar. After leaving Berlin he studied -for a time at Heidelberg under Von Schlosser. In Paris he met Cousin, -Constant, and A. von Humboldt. He travelled in Switzerland and Italy, -and spent the winter of 1821–22 at Rome, where he made the acquaintance -of Niebuhr and Bunsen. At Leghorn the following spring he was one of -a party of Americans who gathered to meet Byron when the poet visited -the ‘Constitution,’ the flagship of the American squadron. Bancroft -afterwards called on Byron at Montenero, and was presented to the -Countess Guiccioli. - -In the fall of 1822 Bancroft became a tutor of Greek at Harvard. The -following year he resigned his position, not to enter the ministry in -accordance with his father’s wishes, but to become a schoolmaster. He -joined his friend, Joseph G. Cogswell (the directing spirit in the -enterprise), in founding a school for boys at Round Hill, Northampton. -Emerson, then a youth of twenty, heard Bancroft preach at the ‘New -South’ in Boston soon after his return from Germany, and was ‘delighted -with his eloquence.’ ‘He needs a great deal of cutting and pruning, -but we think him an infant Hercules.’ Emerson deplored Bancroft’s new -departure, ‘because good schoolmasters are as plenty as whortleberries, -but good ministers assuredly are not, and Bancroft might be one of the -best.’ - -On the eve of leaving Cambridge, Bancroft published, under the title of -_Poems_, a volume of correct if not inspired verse. At Northampton his -literary activity found more sober expression in text-books, in papers -for the ‘North American Review’ and Walsh’s ‘American Quarterly,’ and -in a careful translation of Heeren’s _Politics of Ancient Greece_ -(1824). At the celebration of Independence Day at Northampton in 1826, -Bancroft was the orator. He chanted the present glory of America, -predicted a golden future, and declared his faith in a ‘determined -uncompromising democracy.’ These notes were to be heard again and often -in his great history. - -Round Hill, though prosperous in many ways, was not a success -financially, nor were the partners wholly congenial. After seven years -Bancroft withdrew from the school and began writing the book on which -his fame rests. In 1834 appeared the first volume of _A History of -the United States from the discovery of the American continent to the -present time_. The second volume was published in 1837, the third in -1840. - -The historian removed to Springfield and became prominent in state -politics. He was an ardent Democrat and a strong opponent of slavery. -Elected without his knowledge to the legislature, he refused to take -his seat; he also declined a nomination to the senate. It is said that -he took this attitude with respect to office-holding out of deference -to the feelings of his wife, Sarah (Dwight) Bancroft, who came of -a prominent Whig family. Mrs. Bancroft died in 1837.[11] Appointed -Collector of the Port of Boston by President Van Buren, Bancroft held -the office from 1838 to 1841, and administered its affairs with a -thoroughness theretofore unknown, and in a way incidentally to reflect -great credit on the profession of letters. - -In 1844 Bancroft was the Democratic candidate for governor of -Massachusetts and polled a large vote, but was defeated by George N. -Briggs. A year later he became Secretary of the Navy under President -Polk. In the exercise of his duties he gave the order to take -possession of California, and as acting Secretary of War the order to -General Taylor to occupy Texas. - -During his secretaryship Bancroft founded the United States Naval -Academy at Annapolis. This he brought about not by asking Congress to -authorize its establishment, but by so interpreting the powers granted -him under the law that he was able to set in operation a school for -the training of midshipmen and offer it to Congress for approval. Once -the school was established and its usefulness proved, there was no -difficulty in securing funds for adequate equipment. The Academy was -formally opened on October 10, 1845. - -From 1846 to 1849 Bancroft was minister to England. There were -important diplomatic problems to be solved, but his triumphs were -chiefly literary and social. He accumulated a rich store of documents, -and on his return to America made his home in New York and devoted -himself anew to the _History_.[12] The fourth volume appeared in 1852; -the fifth in 1853; the sixth in 1854; the seventh in 1858; the eighth -in 1860; the ninth in 1866; the tenth and concluding volume in 1874. -His _Literary and Historical Miscellanies_ appeared in 1855. - -When the New York Historical Society celebrated the close of the first -half-century of its existence (1854), Bancroft was the orator. His -address on that occasion, ‘The Necessity, the Reality, and the Promise -of the Progress of the Human Race,’ has been pronounced the best -exposition of his historical creed.[13] - -Bancroft was a strong Union man and during the Civil War acted with -the Republican party. He declined a nomination to Congress from the -eighth district of New York (October, 1862), on the ground that a -multiplication of candidates would leave the result very much to -chance; there should be a union, he urged, of all those ‘who feel -deeply for their country in this her hour of peril.’ At the close -of the war he was chosen to pronounce the eulogy on Lincoln before -Congress (February, 1866). - -President Johnson, in 1867, appointed Bancroft minister to Prussia. -Later he was accredited to the North German Confederation, and in -1872, following current political changes, to the German Empire. He -brought about that notable treaty whereby Germans who had become -citizens of the United States were freed from allegiance to the land -of their birth. Never before by a ‘formal act’ had the principle of -‘renunciation of citizenship at ‘the will of the individual been -recognized.’ England followed Germany’s example and gave over her -claim of indefeasible allegiance. Another diplomatic triumph was the -settlement of the North-western boundary dispute. While in Germany -Bancroft celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of his graduation -at Göttingen. The University gave him an honorary degree, and -congratulations were showered on him from scholars, statesmen, princes, -and men of letters. - -After nearly eight years of service Bancroft was recalled from the -German mission at his own request. He lived in Washington during the -winter months and spent the summers at Newport as had long been -his habit. The work of his later years included two revisions of -the _History_ (1876 and 1884), a _History of the Formation of the -Constitution of the United States_ (1882), _A Plea for the Constitution -of the United States of America, wounded in the House of its Guardians_ -(1886), and a sketch of the public life of Martin Van Buren (1889). - -Bancroft died in Washington on January 17, 1891. - - -II - -HIS CHARACTER - -Bancroft’s character was fashioned on a large scale. His mental horizon -was broad, his power to plan and carry out a vast undertaking was -commensurate with the reach of his vision. There was little in his -habit of thought to suggest the narrowness so often associated with the -name of scholar. Yet he had the infinitely laborious powers of the mere -scholar. He could toil with unflagging energy day by day or year by -year. - -The magisterial note in his historical writings is due not alone to the -subject or to the literary manner, but also to the deliberate tenacity -of purpose with which the historian wrought. Such a work is the -product, not of feverish spasms of intellectual activity, but of even -and steady effort. - -Bancroft has been accused of a want of enthusiasm in receiving critical -observations on his work. It is a question whether historians (more -than philosophers) are wont to receive with rapture proofs that they -are possibly in the wrong. Bancroft’s tone of controversy is perhaps -less peculiar to himself than is commonly asserted. However, it must be -kept in mind that he had a ‘strong nervous personality.’ - -Emerson described the greeting he had from Bancroft in London. When -he presented himself at the minister’s door, ‘it was opened by Mr. -Bancroft himself in the midst of servants whom that man of eager -manners thrust aside, saying that he would open his own door for me. -He was full of goodness and talk.’ Other accounts of him give an -impression of much stateliness of manner tempered by affability. Still -others convey the idea that he was always artificial, and sometimes -playful with a playfulness that bordered on frivolity. A friend[14] -professed to detect in Bancroft’s bearing marks of the man of letters, -diplomat, politician, preacher and pedagogue, one trait superimposed on -another. But the blend of characteristics was charming.[15] - - -III - -THE WRITER - -The charge brought against Bancroft of having embellished his themes -with ‘cheap rhetoric’ is unjust. Rhetorical the historian undoubtedly -was, but the rhetoric was not cheap. It had the merit of sincerity; -it was the result of an honest effort to present important facts and -comments in becoming garb. - -In 1834 the style thought appropriate to historical writing was -markedly oratorical. Historians addressed their readers. A pomp of -expression, something almost liturgical, was held seemly if not indeed -of last importance. Reading their works, one involuntarily calls up a -vision of grave gentlemen in much-wrinkled frock-coats, making stilted -gestures, and looking even more unreal than their statues which now -terrify posterity. Bancroft was affected by the prevailing drift -towards oratorical forms. At times one is tempted to exclaim: ‘This was -not meant to be read but to be heard.’ - -Take for example this passage on Sebastian Cabot: ‘He lived to an -extreme old age and loved his profession to the last; in the hour of -death his wandering thoughts were upon the ocean. The discoverer of -the territory of our country was one of the most extraordinary men of -his age; there is deep cause for regret that time has spared so few -memorials of his career. Himself incapable of jealousy, he did not -escape detraction. He gave England a continent, and no one knows his -burial place.’ - -Not to enter into the question whether this is good, or indifferent, or -even bad writing, it is sufficient to note that the passage in question -belongs to spoken discourse rather than to literature. It appeals to -us, if at all, through the medium of the ear rather than the eye. - -Take for another example the comparison of Puritan and Cavalier: -Historians have loved to eulogize ‘the manners and virtues, the glory -and the benefits of chivalry. Puritanism accomplished for mankind -far more. If it had the sectarian crime of intolerance, chivalry had -the vices of dissoluteness. The knights were brave from gallantry of -spirit; the puritans from the fear of God. The knights were proud of -loyalty, the puritans of liberty. The knights did homage to monarchs, -in whose smile they beheld honor, whose rebuke was the wound of -disgrace; the puritans, disdaining ceremony, would not bend the knee -to the King of kings. The former valued courtesy; the latter justice. -The former adorned society by graceful refinements; the latter founded -national grandeur on universal education. The institutions of chivalry -were subverted by the gradually increasing weight, and knowledge, and -opulence, of the industrious classes; the puritans, relying on those -classes, planted in their hearts the undying principles of democratic -liberty.’ - -Passages such as these are often employed as a rhetorical flourish -at the end of a chapter. They are analogous to what actors call -‘making a good exit.’ In Bancroft they constitute for pages together -the prevailing rather than the exceptional form. The reader, whether -conscious of it or not, is kept on a strain. At last he grows -uncomfortable. He wishes the historian would cease to declaim, would -come down from the rostrum, throw aside his academic robes, and be -neighborly and familiar. - -This _History_ was so long in the writing that Bancroft’s style changed -materially. The opinion prevails that his diction improved as the -work proceeded, that the later volumes are uniformly less inflated, -strained, and ‘eloquent’ than the earlier ones. It is true that he -made innumerable revisions of the text. The changes were not always -improvements. Sometimes in rewriting a sentence he made it less -energetic. Strong expressions were softened. A plain old-fashioned word -would be taken out; often it carried the whole phrase with it. Whether -the literary or the historical sense dictated the change in question -cannot always be determined. - -Bancroft’s diction is manly and forceful, but it lacks natural grace -and suppleness; it is flexible as chain armor is flexible, but not -as is the human body. It may be doubted whether he is ever read for -literary pleasure. Nevertheless, scattered through these twelve volumes -are hundreds of passages well worth the study of those who enjoy an -exhibition of mastery in the use of words. - - -IV - -_THE HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES_ - -One does well to read Bancroft in the tall, wide-margined, and almost -sumptuous volumes of the original editions. The page is open and -inviting. Both text and notes have a personal flavor very diverting at -times. There is no question as to the usefulness of an attractive page -in works of this sort. Political histories should be made easy, not by -picture-book methods, but by the legitimate arts of good printing. - -The work is generously planned. Twelve octavo volumes are required to -bring the narrative down to the ratification of the constitution.[16] -Three volumes, comprising nearly fifteen hundred pages, are given to -the Colonial period alone. - -Bancroft announced his theory of historical writing in the preface of -1834. He was to be controlled always by ‘the principles of historical -scepticism,’ and his narrative was to be drawn ‘from writings and -sources which were contemporaries of the events that are described.’ -Nothing commonly supposed to belong to American history was to be -retained merely because it had been unchallenged by former historians. - -The treatment, as shown in these volumes on the Colonial period, is -in perfect accord with the author’s conception of the dignity of the -subject. The matter is as stately as the manner. Bancroft writes -history as a lord high chamberlain conducts a court function. He feels -that during the ceremony of discovering a world and planting a nation -there should be no unseemliness, certainly no laughter or disturbance. - -The characters go through their evolutions like well-drilled courtiers. -So stately are they as to appear scarce human. Homely and familiar -traits are almost completely suppressed. The founders of America, as we -see them looming in the pages of Bancroft, are not men but incarnate -ideas. They are the embodiment of principles and virtues. Winthrop is -enlightened conservatism, Vane is generous impetuosity, Roger Williams -is liberty of conscience. Strive how we will to bring these men nearer, -to make them tangible, the effort is not wholly successful. These -figures of the past, like the characters of a morality-play, persist in -remaining personified ideas. - -As a reaction against ‘classical’ history comes history of the -gossiping school. ‘Thanks to you,’ said Brunetière, welcoming Masson -to the French Academy, ‘we now know the exact number of Napoleon’s -shirts.’ Bancroft was not interested in the spindles and shoe-buckles -of the Puritans. Many people are, but they must find elsewhere the -gratification they seek. Whoever wishes at any time absolutely to -escape anecdotage, homely detail, and piquant gossip, has it always -in his power to do so; he can read Bancroft’s three volumes on the -Colonial period and dwell among abstractions. - -Even if not at this stage of his career the most human of writers, -Bancroft is a comforting historian to return to, after having dwelt -for a while with those who instruct us how low and mercenary in -motive, how impervious to liberal ideas, were the men who planted -English civilization in America. Historical iconoclasts all, they are -frightfully convincing. Some of their arguments lose a degree of force -as it dawns on the reader that Seventeenth-century men are being judged -by Nineteenth-century standards. When Bancroft wrote, the habit of -abusing the ancestors had not become deep-seated. - -Turning from the Colonial period, the historian takes up the period -of the American Revolution. Seven volumes are required for telling -the story. The logical arrangement is by ‘epochs.’ They are four in -number: ‘Overthrow of the European Colonial system,’ ‘How Great -Britain estranged America,’ ‘America declares itself independent,’ ‘The -Independence of America is acknowledged.’[17] - -General histories must treat of many things, the doings of authorized -and representative assemblies and the doings of the mob, skirmishes, -battles by land and sea, diplomatic intrigues, party combinations, -political and military plots, the characters of the actors in the -historic drama, and the setting of the stage on which they played. -While doing all parts of his task with workmanlike skill, a historian -will be found to excel in this thing or in that. Bancroft’s accounts of -military operations are always clear, energetic, and often extremely -readable. He could not, like Irving, ‘render you a fearful battle in -music,’ but he never made the mistake of supposing that he could. He -had not the graphical power of Parkman, but he had enough for his -purposes. - -His character sketches of the men who figured in the struggles for -American independence are among the best parts of his writing. The -patriots and their friends in England and on the Continent are too -uniformly creatures of light, but their opponents are not represented -as necessarily creatures of darkness. If Bancroft could be more than -fair to his own side, he was incapable of being wholly unfair to the -other. His tendency is to regard human character as all of a piece, -fixed rather than fluctuating. Men (politicians included) have been -known to grow in virtue as they grow in years. Bancroft was over -complacent in his attitude towards frenzied impromptu Revolutionary -gatherings whose motives could not always have been so guiltlessly -patriotic and disinterested as he represents them.[18] He was but -little versed in the psychology of mobs. - -Forceful at all points, Bancroft was singularly impressive in dealing -with history as it is made in parliaments and conventions, in council -chambers, cabinets, and courts of law. He was born to grapple with -whole state paper offices. He knew the secret of subordinating a vast -amount of detail to his main purpose. An important part of the American -Revolution took place in Europe. Bancroft’s capital merit consists in -his having brought the event into its largest relations. The story -as he told it did not merely concern the uprising of a few petty -quarrelsome colonies, it became an important chapter in the history of -liberty. Not for an instant did he permit himself to lose sight of that -‘idea of continuity which gives vitality to history.’ - -It is wonderful how through these seven volumes everything bends to -one idea; how it all becomes part of a demonstration, a detail in the -history of that spirit which, acting through discontent, led first to -local outbreak and resistance, then to concerted action and war, and -finally to the birth of a new nation. - -The crown of Bancroft’s work is the story of how the states parted with -so much of their individuality as stood in the way of union, and then -united. Two volumes would seem to afford room for full and leisurely -treatment. But in fact the historian only accomplished his task by -enormous compression. Often the substance of a speech had to be given -in a sentence, and the deliberations of days in a few paragraphs. -The marshalling of facts, the grasp of the subject in detail and as -a whole, are extraordinary. Bancroft notes what forces led to union -and what opposed it. He marks the shifting of public sentiment, the -trembling of the balance, but he grants himself few privileges of the -sort called literary. Seldom dramatic or picturesque in this portion of -his narrative, he is at all times logically exact and magisterial. - - * * * * * - -There is a peculiar fitness in the word ‘monumental’ applied to -Bancroft’s work. It has solidity, strength, durability, a massive and -stately grandeur. It is a book which the modern reader finds it easy -to neglect; but he puts it in his library and never fails to commend -it to his friends, with a hypocritical expression of surprise at their -not being better acquainted with it. The truth is, we are spoiled by -more attractive historians. Macaulay, Froude, and Parkman have made us -indolent, fond of verbal comforts and disinclined to effort. We demand -not only to be instructed but to be vastly entertained at the same -time. Bancroft certainly instructs; it would be difficult to prove that -he also entertains. - -His tone of confident eulogy is often condemned. On the whole, this -is a merit rather than a fault. Doubtless he admired too uniformly -and too much. Many writers have taken pleasure in showing that his -admiration was misplaced. And thus a balance is kept. It is a fortunate -thing for American literature that Bancroft’s vast work, destined to -so wide an influence, and the fruit of such immense labor, should -have been conceived and written in a generous and hopeful spirit. The -English reviewer who on the appearance of the first volume praised the -historian because he was ‘so fearlessly honest and impartial’ might -also have praised him because he was so fearlessly optimistic. This too -requires courage. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [11] Bancroft was twice married. His second wife was Mrs. - Elisabeth (Davis) Bliss. - - [12] For an account of the privileges he enjoyed in making his - collections see _Winsor’s Narrative and Critical History of - America_, vol. viii, p. 477. - - [13] W. M. Sloane. - - [14] T. W. Higginson in ‘The Nation,’ January, 1891. - - [15] Bancroft’s characteristics as a young man are admirably - brought out in the recently printed selection from his - letters and journals, edited by M. A. DeWolfe Howe. - ‘Scribner’s Magazine,’ September and October, 1905. - - [16] Two volumes of the original edition correspond to one volume - of the ‘author’s last revision,’ 1883–85. - - [17] In the ‘last revision’ Epoch Four is divided into unequal - parts and the titles are reworded: Epoch first, ‘Britain - overthrows the European colonial system,’ 1748–63; Epoch - second, ‘Britain estranges America,’ 1763–74; Epoch third, - ‘America takes up arms for self-defence and arrives at - independence,’ 1774–76; Epoch fourth, ‘America in alliance - with France,’ 1776--80; Epoch fifth, ‘The People of America - take their equal station among the powers of the earth,’ 1780 - to December, 1782. - - [18] J. F. Jameson speaks of Bancroft’s ‘tendency to - conventionalize, to compose his American populations of - highly virtuous Noah’s-ark men.’ _History of Historical - Writing in America_, 1891, p. 108. - - - - -V - -_William Hickling Prescott_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =George Ticknor=: _Life of William Hickling Prescott_, 1864. - - =Rollo Ogden=: _William Hickling Prescott_, ‘American Men of - Letters,’ 1904. - - =H. T. Peck=: _William Hickling Prescott_, ‘English Men of - Letters,’ 1905. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -The Prescotts are an ancient family as antiquity is reckoned in the -United States. The first Anglo-American of that name, John Prescott, -an old Cromwellian soldier, took up residence in this country about -1640, and after living awhile at Watertown, Massachusetts, made a -permanent home for himself at Lancaster, then a frontier settlement. -When thieving Indians plundered him, it is said that he used to put on -helmet, gorget, and cuirass, and start in pursuit. Being a powerful man -and stern of countenance, his terrific appearance in his armor had a -salutary effect on the red men. - -Jonas Prescott, a son of the old warrior, settled at Groton, -Massachusetts, and there the family history centres for more than a -hundred years. They were a vigorous race, useful and conspicuous in -the military and civil affairs of the colony. - -William Hickling Prescott, the historian, was born in Salem, -Massachusetts, on May 4, 1796. His father, Judge William Prescott, was -a man of eminent abilities, esteemed for his great legal acquirements -and beloved for his personal worth. His mother, Catharine Hickling, a -daughter of Thomas Hickling of Boston, was distinguished for energy -and benevolence, as well as for a certain gayety of temperament, a -trait which she transmitted to her famous son. The grandfather of -the historian was Colonel William Prescott, founder of the town of -Pepperell, who, on the night of June 16, 1775, with his force of a -thousand men, threw up a redoubt on Bunker (Breed’s) Hill, and on the -following day defended it until defence was no longer possible. - -Prescott was drilled in the classics by one of old Parr’s pupils, the -Reverend Doctor John Gardiner, rector of Trinity Church, Boston. He -was an insatiable reader of books; but it were idle to assume that his -interest in Spanish history and literature took its first impulse, as -has been asserted, from the reading of Southey’s translation of _Amadis -of Gaul_. - -He entered Harvard College in the Sophomore year and was graduated in -1814. A misfortune befell him early in his course which changed his -whole life and made enormous demands on his philosophy and courage. -In one of the frolics attending the breaking up of commons, when small -missiles were flying about the room, Prescott was struck full in the -left eye with a hard crust of bread. The sight was instantly destroyed, -and he lived for years in apprehension of what, fortunately, never -overtook him, total blindness. - -He began the study of law, but illness and consequent weakening of the -power of vision put an end to it. In search of health and diversion he -went abroad. After spending some months in the Azores, in the family of -his maternal grandfather, Thomas Hickling, then United States consul -at St. Michael’s, he visited Italy, France, and England. In London he -consulted eminent oculists, who were able, however, to give him but -little encouragement. - -Shortly after his return home he married Miss Susan Amory of Boston, -whose maternal grandfather, Captain Linzee, was in command of a British -sloop of war at the outbreak of the Revolution, and had cannonaded -the redoubt on Bunker Hill. In 1821 Prescott planned a course of -literary study. Beginning oddly enough with grammars and rhetorics, he -followed this preliminary reading with a wide survey first of English -literature, then of French and Italian. German he tried and gave up. -With his enfeebled sight he could do but little of the actual reading -for himself; the bulk of it had to be done for him. - -Prescott’s literary life was peculiar in that he prepared himself to -become a man of letters with no definite conception of what he would -write about. He was not, like the literary heroes of whom we read, so -possessed of his subject from boyhood that all the ancient neighbors -distinctly recall early evidences of his predilection. His first -impulse towards the studies in which he won renown came from George -Ticknor. To help Prescott pass away his time Ticknor read to his -friend the lectures he had been giving to advanced classes at Harvard, -lectures which formed the basis of his _History of Spanish Literature_. -This was in 1824. Prescott became enthusiastic over the study of -the Spanish language and history. A year later he was thinking what -brilliant passages might be written on the Inquisition, the Conquest of -Granada, and the exploits of the Great Captain. After balancing Italian -and Spanish subjects against each other, he decided, not without -misgivings, on a history of Ferdinand and Isabella, and early in 1826 -wrote to Alexander H. Everett, United States minister at Madrid, asking -his help in collecting materials. - -Three and a half years of study preceded the writing of the first -chapter; ten and a half years in all were required to make the book. -Its enthusiastic reception from scholars and public alike led Prescott -to take up cognate subjects. The list of his writings is brief, but, -taking into account the difficulties involved, one may say without -exaggeration that Prescott’s historical works represent a labor little -short of titanic. - -The _History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella the Catholic_ -appeared in 1837. It was followed by _The Conquest of Mexico_, 1843; -_Critical and Historical Essays_, 1845 (consisting chiefly of papers -reprinted from the ‘North American Review’); _The Conquest of Peru_, -1847; _The History of Philip the Second_, 1855 (left unfinished at the -author’s death). To this list of important works may be added a brief -continuation of Robertson’s _Charles the Fifth_, and a _Memoir of -Abbott Lawrence_. - -Prescott’s life was without marked external incident. His surroundings -were ideal. Having inherited a fortune, he could give himself to -toilsome literary undertakings with no care for the financial result. -He took satisfaction in the thought of having refuted Johnson’s dictum -that no man could write history unless he had good eyes. - -Early in 1858 Prescott was stricken with apoplexy, but so far recovered -as to be able to resume work on the _History of Philip the Second_. A -second attack (January 27, 1859) ended in his death. - - -II - -PRESCOTT’S CHARACTER - -To those who knew him in varying degrees of intimacy, whether as -friends, neighbors, or chance acquaintance, Prescott seemed the -incarnation of urbanity, thoughtfulness, good humor. To us who know -him only through the story of his life he seems notable for his heroic -qualities. - -He had enormous courage and force of will. That other men have -performed great tasks under like difficulties cannot lessen the glory -of his individual achievement. Handicapped by partial blindness, he -wrote history, a type of literature which makes the most exacting -demands on the physical powers. - -Had Prescott’s genius inclined him towards poetry or fiction, the -heroic element in his literary life would have been less noteworthy. -In general a novelist is not expected to read; what is chiefly -required of him in the way of preparation is, that he shall observe, -feel, and occasionally think--but not read; much reading makes a dull -story-teller. The novelist gleans material as he walks the street. For -his purpose an hour of talk with ‘a set of wretched un-idea’d girls,’ -as Doctor Johnson half affectionately, half pettishly, called them, is -worth ten hours over a book. History is another matter. The historian -must often read a thousand pages in order to write one. And the work -of preparation is indescribably exhausting; there is so much detail -to set in order, so many documents to be consulted, such a wilderness -of notes to be arranged, compared, and fitted into place. The task, -difficult under the best conditions, must seem endless to any one with -an imperfect sense. - -A man with good eye-sight is like a man with the free use of his legs, -he goes where he pleases. But a scholar with defective vision is an -invalid in a wheeled chair. Prescott, being denied one of the greatest -conveniences of study, was forced to try expedients. With most writers -pen and ink are an indispensable aid to composition. Prescott used -memory instead. Not only was the knowledge accumulated, arranged, and -weighed, but it was put into literary form, the paragraphs measured and -the sentences polished before the actual writing was begun. Prescott -often carried in his head, for days at a time, the equivalent of sixty -pages of printed text, and on occasion, seventy-five pages. Only by -reflecting on the difficulties met and overcome can the amateur of -literature arrive at a conception of Prescott’s indomitable courage. - -Add to force and persistency of purpose another notable trait, -a passion for nobility of character. Prescott, unwearied in -self-examination, studied his own moral nature as he studied the pages -of his manuscript, that he might weed out the faults. The methods he -employed to this end were often whimsical, and even childlike; but in -their touching simplicity lies the best proof of the genuineness of the -motive that prompted them. - - -III - -THE WRITER - -Prescott gave unusual measure of time and thought to the problem of -expression. With a view to grounding himself in the technical part of -literature, he invoked the aid of those now forgotten worthies, Lindley -Murray and Hugh Blair--how greatly to his advantage would be difficult -to say. Books of this sort are so often disfigured by a vicious or, -what is worse, a commonplace style that it is a question whether one -does not lose by example all that he gains by precept. - -Escaping these influences, Prescott took up the chief English authors, -beginning with Ascham, Sidney, Bacon, Browne, Raleigh, and Milton. -His mind was constantly on the alert to discover by what means these -masters produced their effects. His journals show how painstaking he -was in these studies, with what intense interest he turned the problem -of the art of expression over and over in his mind. - -When he came to print, it was observed first of all that he had a -‘style.’ The self-conscious literary workman was plainly visible. -Prescott had evidently aimed to produce certain effects through the -balance of his periods, the choice of his words, the length and -structure of his sentences. Every one said: ‘He is an artist.’ Praise -could not have been more aptly bestowed. Among many eminent artists in -words Prescott was one of the most conscientious. - -But the literary style of the _Ferdinand and Isabella_ had the defect -of being too apparent. One often found himself taking note of the -manner of expression before he took note of the thought. The panoply of -words glittered from afar. It was brilliant but metallic, magnificent -but artificial. - -The criticism of his first book taught Prescott the futility of -worrying about style--after one has worried sufficiently. He was no -less anxious to improve; he noted the mannerisms into which he had -fallen, resolved to correct them, and that was the conclusion of the -whole matter. He stopped dwelling overmuch on the fashion of his -writing, and at once gained in ease and naturalness. After ten years -of labor he had mastered the materials of his art. His workmanship -improved to the last. The volumes of the _History of Philip the Second_ -have literary characteristics so gracious as to add sharpness to the -regret that this noble work had to be left unfinished. - - -IV - -THE HISTORIES - -The _Ferdinand and Isabella_ is not a formidable book for size. A timid -reader, shrinking from fifteen hundred pages of any literature but -fiction, need not fear mortgaging too much of his time in the perusal. -Compared with a reading of Freeman’s _Norman Conquest_ or Carlyle’s -_Frederick_, his task is light. - -In an introductory section Prescott traces the growth of Castile and -Aragon, with their dependencies, up to the time when Ferdinand and -Isabella come on the stage of history. Perhaps there is a lack of -detail here and there. One would like to know the steps of the process -by which the Spaniards regained the territory from which they had been -driven by the Saracenic invasion of the Eighth Century. Bitter as were -the jealousies and quarrels of the various petty states, they made -common cause against the Mohammedans. They hated the hereditary enemy -both as infidels and usurpers. Hatred fostered the national spirit. - -The history proper is divided into two parts. The first has chiefly -to do with the internal policy of Ferdinand and Isabella. It was the -period when law displaced anarchy. The law might be severe or even -unjust, but it was at all events law. Here is shown how the power -of the nobles was curbed, warring factions pacified, banditti of all -sorts kept within bounds, and that too whether they lived in castles or -lurked in dark corners, heresy suppressed in a truly rigorous fashion, -above all the national ideal strengthened. To use a homely figure, -Ferdinand and Isabella took up the problem of national housekeeping and -handled it as it had never been handled before. A reign of order and -economy was inaugurated. Thieving servants were put under restraint -or discharged, poachers were apprehended, and the gypsies who had -impudently camped on the best part of the estates were driven off. -A government which for years had run at loose ends was now under -masterful control. - -The second part illustrates the foreign policy of the two monarchs. -Having made a nation out of an assemblage of turbulent states, -Ferdinand and Isabella were enabled to take a conspicuous place among -the sovereigns of Europe. By good fortune in war and in discovery, by -diplomatic shrewdness and religious zeal, their influence was felt -throughout Europe and over the seas. Spain was no longer isolated. Her -name carried weight; her will was respected. - -Much of the narrative proceeds by divisions each of which might have -been printed as a monograph. A certain amount of space is given to the -Inquisition, so much to the war in Granada, so many chapters to the -history of Columbus, so many to the colonial policy, to the Italian -wars, to the life of Gonsalvo of Cordova, to the career of Cardinal -Ximenes. - -While in no sense neglecting the constitutional side of the problems -before him, the historian’s bent is to the biographical and pictorial -phases of the reign. On these he dwells with satisfaction and often in -detail. To him history is a pageant. The rich coloring of the period -first attracted Prescott; he can hardly be blamed for painting his -canvas in lively hues, for so he conceived the design. Neutral tints -and dull tones are wholly wanting. The blackness of certain events only -serves to bring out in stronger relief the resplendent brightness of -virtuous acts and the goodness of noble characters. Torquemada offsets -Isabella; the cruelty of war is forgotten in the splendor of chivalric -deeds. - -It is not a history of the people of Spain. The people are not -forgotten; the struggle of the commons for recognition, for justice, -for the right to be themselves and express their individuality--these -things are taken into account. But the work belongs rather to that -older school of history which concerns itself for the most part with -wars and royal progresses, with the intrigues of councillors, the -machinations of prelates, the rivalries of great houses and powerful -orders. - -The _History of the Conquest of Mexico_ is of about the same length as -its predecessor. The narrative, simpler in some ways and more vivacious -in others, is gorgeously colored throughout. Prescott was disturbed -by the picturesqueness of his own treatment. ‘Very like Miss Porter’ -and ‘Rather boarding schoolish finery’ were his comments on certain -chapters. - -The first of the seven ‘books’ into which the work is divided contains -an account of Aztec civilization. Sixty years have elapsed since these -pages were written, during which time American archæology has made -great advances. That the value of Prescott’s introduction is not wholly -destroyed is due to the healthy sceptical spirit which controlled his -work. - -The story has every element of romance. A young Spanish gentleman, -handsome, witty, daring, an idler in college and a libertine, joins -the army of adventurers in the New World. For ten or fifteen years he -leads the life of men of his class. He becomes a planter in Hayti and -varies the monotony of watching Indians till the soil by suppressing -insurrections of their brother Indians. - -He goes to Cuba as secretary to the governor of that island, quarrels -with his chief, makes his peace, and quarrels with him again. Thrown -repeatedly into prison, he escapes with the ease of a Baron Trenck. -Reconciled to the governor, he is appointed to lead an expedition into -the newly discovered kingdom of Mexico. On this venture he stakes -his every penny. With five hundred soldiers he proposes to subdue the -natives; two priests go along to convert the natives as fast as they -are subdued. His sailors number one hundred and ten; his pilot had -served under Columbus. - -Arriving on the coast, he secretly scuttles his ships, all but one, -that there may be no retreat, and then begins that wonderful march to -the great city of the Aztecs. He fights by craft as well as by physical -force. The jealousy of mutually hostile tribes helps to win his -battles. Superstition comes to his aid, for the Spaniards are thought -to be gods, and the horses they bestride carry terror into the hearts -of the natives. - -At length he makes his entry into the city of flowers, and takes up -his abode there, Cortés and his little army of four hundred and fifty -Spaniards, with twice as many native allies, among sixty thousand -cannibals. Boldness marks every step of his course. He seizes the -native ‘king,’ suppresses plots with rigor, and proves his divinity -by tearing down one of the sacrificial pyramids and planting the -cross in its stead. Leaving a lieutenant in command, he hastens back -to the seashore to transact military business there. The lieutenant -precipitates a quarrel and slaughters Indians by the hundred. Cortés -returns and finds his work must be done again. This time it is -thoroughly done. Every step of his progress is marked with blood, and -the story of _la noche triste_ and the siege of Mexico are among the -most romantic passages in the history of the New World. - -In estimating men Prescott aimed to employ the standard of their day. -When Cortés lifts up his hands, red with the blood of the miserable -natives, to return thanks to Heaven for victory, the historian does -not permit himself to forget that this savage Spaniard was a typical -soldier of the Cross. ‘Whoever has read the correspondence of Cortés, -or, still more, has attended to the circumstances of his career, will -hardly doubt that he would have been among the first to lay down his -life for the Faith.’ According to Prescott, the charge of cruelty -cannot be brought against Cortés. ‘The path of the conqueror is -necessarily marked with blood. He was not too scrupulous, indeed, in -the execution of his plans. He swept away the obstacles which lay in -his track; and his fame is darkened by the commission of more than one -act which his boldest apologists will find it hard to vindicate. But he -was not wantonly cruel. He allowed no outrage on his unresisting foes.’ -The historian likens the Spaniard to Hannibal in his endurance, his -courage, and his unpretentiousness. - -Later scholarship has assailed portions of _The Conquest of Mexico_ -with needless asperity. Prescott could hardly be expected to avail -himself prophetically of archæological facts not known until thirty -years after his time. Nor was his faith in the early Spanish accounts -of the Conquest quite as childlike and uncritical as it is sometimes -represented. Historians are the most substantial of men of letters; but -they now and then build card houses which topple down under the breath -of a single new fact. And they take a very human delight in blowing -over one another’s structures. For which reason the reading of history -is a fearful joy, like skating on thin ice. The pleasure is intense so -long as nothing gives way. Perhaps the layman is unreasonable in his -demand for knowledge that shall not require too frequent revision. He -can at least read for pleasure, hoping that a part of what he reads is -true, and holding himself prepared to relinquish the parts he likes -best when the time comes. - -In the _History of the Conquest of Peru_ the author brings fresh proof -that whatever may be said of his morals, the Spanish soldier cannot -be over-praised for his valor. Pizarro was a marvel of courage and -endurance. Fanaticism, which explains much in his character, does not -explain where such tremendous physical power came from. And he had the -true theatrical bravado of the Sixteenth-century adventurer. Add to -the native histrionic gifts of the Latin race a special training, such -as life in the New World gave, and men like Ojeda, Balboa, Cortés, and -Pizarro come into existence quite naturally. They did wonders in the -coolest possible way, and with a fine sense of the pictorial aspect of -their undertakings. Pizarro, drawing a line from east to west on the -sand with his sword and calling on his comrades to choose each man what -best becomes a brave Castilian (‘For my part I go to the south’), is -a figure for romantic drama. An Englishman equally daring would have -been more or less awkward in a pose of this sort, but the Spaniard was -perfectly at home. Of what clay were these men compounded that they -could imagine such exploits and succeed in them too? - -The performance of Pizarro was less splendid than that of Cortés -and the man himself less interesting. The conqueror of Mexico was a -gentleman; not so the hard soldier who subdued the kingdom of the -Incas. His was a violent career, steeped in blood, and ending in -assassination. Not only was Pizarro without fear, but of two courses -he seized upon the more dangerous as the better suited to his genius. -Too ignorant to sign his own name, he could control not alone the -brutal soldier but as well the lawyer and the priest. Aside from his -masterfulness there was little to admire in his character. Brute -force excites wonder, but the exhibition of it becomes wearisome at -last. To Prescott ‘the hazard assumed by Pizarro was far greater -than that of the Conqueror of Mexico.’ Otherwise the man was a mere -bungler upon whom Fortune, with characteristic levity, chanced for a -time to smile. Prescott describes him in a sentence: ‘Pizarro was -eminently perfidious.’ Furthermore, the conqueror of Peru was not -original; he repeated what he had learned from Balboa and Cortés. Had -he chanced upon a country less rich and civilized, it may well be -doubted whether he would have made any considerable figure in history. -The argument from gold was entirely conclusive in those days; just as -at the present time an undertaking is said to ‘succeed’ if it pays -financially. Manners have improved, but ideals of ‘success’ are pretty -much what they were four hundred years ago. When Pizarro extorted from -the wretched Atahualpa a promise to fill a room twenty-two feet by -seventeen to the height of nine feet with gold, his place in history -was assured. The swineherd had become immortal. - -Strange is it that the name of Francisco Pizarro should be a household -word while that of his brother Gonzalo is but little known and seldom -repeated. Yet there are few episodes in the history of Spanish -colonization more striking than the story of Gonzalo Pizarro’s march -across the Andes and the discovery of the river Amazon. It is a tale of -horror and suffering to which only the pen of a Defoe could do justice. -Gonzalo not only survived the fearful journey, but had strength enough -left to head a party for revolt against the viceroy, Blasco Nuñez, and -the execution of the Ordinances. Like a true Pizarro, this conqueror -died a violent death. He was beheaded; it seemed the only fitting way -for one of that family to take his departure from life. The Pizarros -used to behead their victims and then show themselves conspicuously at -the funeral. When it came their turn to die, they were treated with -scantier courtesy. - -_Philip the Second_ was Prescott’s most ambitious work. Though -but a fragment, the fragment is of noble dimensions, being longer -by many pages than the _Ferdinand and Isabella_. The narrative is -extraordinarily vivid. Few pages can match for interest those in which -are described Philip’s coming to Flanders and his assumption of power -at the hands of his father Charles the Fifth. Here are exhibited at -their best the much-praised qualities of Prescott’s style. His prose -grew better as he grew older. - -The characters stand out like the figures of a play: the great princes, -Charles the Fifth, Philip, Mary of England, and Elizabeth; the great -warriors and statesmen, Guise, Montmorency, Alva, Egmont, and William -of Orange; noble ladies like Margaret of Parma and the beautiful -Elizabeth of France. The events were of high and tragic importance, -for during this reign was to be settled the great question of freedom -of thought and the right to worship God as the conscience and the -reason dictated. The very contrasts of costume came to the aid of the -historian in dealing with this romantic age. It would seem as if the -writer must be picturesque in spite of himself. - -The modern reader, whatever be his natural bent, finds himself impelled -by the critical spirit of the times into distrusting all history which -is not technical and hard to grasp. Prescott’s books are incorrigibly -‘literary’ and therefore more or less under suspicion. Because they -are attractive, it is taken for granted that they are unsound. Certain -unhappy beings have gone so far as to slander them outright by calling -them romances. But this is mere impatience with the kind of historical -writing which Prescott’s work exemplifies. He was a master of the art -of narrative; and history which stops with narrative is in the minds of -severe students little better than the more vicious forms of literary -idleness, such as poetry and fiction. Prescott gratifies his reader’s -curiosity about the past, but is not over solicitous to ‘modify his -view of the present and his forecast of the future.’ In other words, he -is well content to look at the surface of history, leaving it to others -to look below the surface and philosophize on what they find there. - -Nevertheless these brilliant volumes have a value which is something -more than literary even if it be a good deal less than scientific. -It is perhaps not extravagant to pronounce them an indispensable -propædeutic to the study of Spanish-American history. They cannot be -displaced by works which ‘go much deeper into the subject.’ Depth -is not what is at all times most needed. We need stimulus, and -encouragement to face the discipline awaiting us in deep books. He who, -having read Prescott, was content to read no farther would be an odd -sort of student; but not so odd as he who labored under the impression -that Prescott was a historian whom he could afford to do without. - - - - -VI - -_Ralph Waldo Emerson_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =G. W. Cooke=: _Ralph Waldo Emerson, his Life, Writings, and - Philosophy_, fifth edition, 1882. - - =O. W. Holmes=: _Ralph Waldo Emerson_, ‘American Men of Letters,’ - 1885. - - =J. E. Cabot=: _A Memoir of Ralph Waldo Emerson_, third edition, - 1888. - - =Richard Garnett=: _Life of Ralph Waldo Emerson_, ‘Great - Writers,’ 1888. - - =E. W. Emerson=: _Emerson in Concord_, 1889. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -The clerical profession was in a manner hereditary in the Emerson race. -With a single exception there was a minister in each of six generations -descending from Thomas Emerson of Ipswich, Massachusetts. For this one -lapse compensation was made; another generation furnished the colony -with three ministers. - -For nearly a century and a half the history of the family has centred -in Concord, Massachusetts. The house known as the ‘Old Manse’ was -built in 1765 by William Emerson, the young minister of the First -Church. Gentle in spirit, he was an ardent patriot and in Revolutionary -times won the name of the ‘fighting parson.’ He came honestly by -his militant temper, being a grandson of the famous Father Moody who -distinguished himself at the siege of Louisburg as a preacher, fighter, -and iconoclast. - -Besides the gift of eloquence, William Emerson inherited from his -father (the Reverend Joseph Emerson of Maiden) a love of literature. -This he apparently bequeathed to his son, William, who in turn -transmitted it to his son, the author of _Conduct of Life_ and -_Representative Men_. - -Ralph Waldo Emerson was born in Boston on May 25, 1803. His father, -minister of the First Church of that city, was a man of vigorous -intellect, fond of society, and, judging from one of his letters, -endowed with a caustic wit. His mother, Ruth (Haskins) Emerson, was -distinguished for her high-bred manners and tender thoughtfulness. - -Severity on the part of parents was thought good for boys in that -day. Ralph never forgot how his father ‘twice or thrice put me in -mortal terror by forcing me into the salt water, off some wharf or -bathing-house; and I still recall the fright with which, after some -of these salt experiences, I heard his voice one day (as Adam that of -the Lord God in the garden) summoning me to a new bath, and I vainly -endeavoring to hide myself.’ - -Left a widow in 1811, with five boys to educate, Mrs. Emerson was -forced to heroic exertions. Her sacrifices made a deep impress on the -mind of the most famous of those boys. - -From the Boston Latin School, Emerson went to Harvard College and was -graduated in 1821 ‘with ambitions to be a professor of rhetoric and -elocution.’ After a period of school-teaching, a profession towards -which his attitude was unequivocal (‘Better saw wood, better sow -hemp, better hang with it after it is sown, than sow the seeds of -instruction’), he began his theological studies at Harvard and in due -time was ‘approbated to preach.’ Ill health drove him South for a -winter (1826–27), where he saw novel sights, and made the acquaintance -of Achille Murat, son of the quondam King of Naples. Emerson had Murat -for a fellow traveller from St. Augustine to Charleston: ‘I blessed my -stars for my fine companion, and we talked incessantly.’ - -On March 11, 1829, Emerson was ordained as colleague of Henry Ware -in the Second Church of Boston and a little later ‘became the sole -incumbent.’ He resigned this advantageous post of labor (September, -1832) because of doubts about the rite of the Lord’s Supper and the -offering of public prayer. To many observers his career seemed wilfully -spoiled by himself. - -With impaired health and in despondency and grief (he had but recently -lost his young wife)[19] Emerson tried the effect of a year abroad. He -sailed from Boston and arrived at Malta on February 2, 1833. Thence he -proceeded to Syracuse, Taormina, Messina, Palermo, and Naples. After -visiting the other chief cities of Italy, he journeyed to Paris, which -he admired none the less because he felt out of place there; ‘Pray -what brought you here, grave Sir?’ the moving Boulevard seemed to say. -But he had the opportunity of hearing Jouffroy at the Sorbonne, and -of paying his respects to Lafayette. In London he saw Coleridge. At -Edinburgh he learned Carlyle’s whereabouts, visited him, and found -him, ‘good and wise and pleasant.’ He was unfortunate in his trip to -the Highlands (‘the scenery of a shower-bath must be always much the -same’). He called on Wordsworth at Rydal Mount. In early October he was -back at home. - -The future was uncertain. Emerson was reluctant to give up the -ministry, and preached from time to time as the chance presented -itself. For some weeks he supplied Orville Dewey’s church in New -Bedford, but when it was intimated that on Dewey’s resignation he might -be invited to succeed him, Emerson made the impossible conditions that -he should neither administer the Communion, nor offer prayer ‘unless he -felt moved to do so.’ He supplied the pulpit of the Unitarian church in -Concord during three months of the pastor’s illness and for three years -preached to the little congregation in East Lexington. - -Having cut himself off from the only ‘regular’ mode of life that -seemed open to him, Emerson took up the irregular vocation of lecturer. -During the winter following his return from Europe, he had lectured -before the Boston Society of Natural History. Beginning in January, -1835, he gave a course on ‘Biography’ consisting of six lectures: -‘Tests of Great Men,’ ‘Michelangelo,’ ‘Luther,’ ‘Milton,’ ‘Fox,’ and -‘Burke.’ During succeeding winters he gave ten lectures on ‘English -Literature’ (1835–36), twelve lectures on ‘The Philosophy of History’ -(1836–37), ten lectures on ‘Human Culture’ (1837–38), ten lectures on -‘Human Life’ (1838–39), ten lectures on ‘The Present Age’ (1839–40). He -was now fairly engaged in his new calling. - -Meantime he had fixed on Concord for his permanent home, bought a house -there, married Miss Lydia Jackson of Plymouth, and begun that career of -which one of his biographers has humorously complained, ‘a life devoid -of incident, of nearly untroubled happiness, and of absolute conformity -to the moral law.’ - -In 1836 there was published anonymously a little volume entitled -_Nature_. It was Emerson’s first book. His influence as a man of -letters begins at this point. The succeeding volumes consisted in part -of lectures which, having stood the test of public delivery, were -now recast in essay form. Not every essay, however, had its first -presentation as spoken discourse. - -On formal public occasions Emerson was often invited to give the -address. There was authority in his utterances. That he was not -unlikely to say something revolutionary seemed to make it the more -important that he should be heard often. He gave the Historical Address -at Concord at the Second Centennial Anniversary, the Phi Beta Kappa -Oration at Harvard on ‘The American Scholar’ (August, 1837), and the -Address before the Senior Class in Divinity College (July 15, 1838), -which brought down on him the wrath of Andrews Norton and a shower of -remonstrances from Unitarian ministers who, however, loved him too much -to be angry with him. - -At the time of the Divinity Hall Address the so-called Transcendental -movement was in full progress. The movement grew in part out of -informal meetings held by a group of liberal thinkers with a view -to protesting against the unsatisfactory state of current opinion -in theology and philosophy, and looking for something broader and -deeper.[20] - -Transcendentalism was an intellectual ferment. Having a philosophical -and religious significance, it was also notable for its effect on -social, educational, and literary matters. Emerson defined it as -faith in intuitions. It has been called an ‘outburst of Romanticism -on Puritan ground.’ Certain historians connect it with German -transcendental philosophy. That it was indigenous to New England -appears to be the sounder view. According to a high authority,[21] -‘Emerson’s transcendentalism was native to his mind.... It had been in -the life and thought of his family for generations.’ He was certainly -regarded as the heresiarch. - -Like most complex movements Transcendentalism had a grotesque side. -The enthusiasts, in their anxiety to be emancipated from old formulas, -fell victims to ‘the vice of the age,--the propensity to exaggerate -the importance of visible and tangible facts.’ Emerson laughs at them -a little: ‘They promise the establishment of the kingdom of heaven and -end with champing unleavened bread or dedicating themselves to the -nourishment of a beard.’ - -The movement had an ‘organ,’ a quarterly magazine called ‘The Dial,’ -the first number of which appeared in July, 1840. George Ripley was the -business manager, Margaret Fuller the editor. It came under Emerson’s -care two years later, and in 1844 was abandoned. An audience large -enough to support the organ could not be found. - -Transcendentalism coincided chronologically with several plans for -bettering the condition of the world. ‘We are a little wild here with -numberless projects of social reform. Not a reading man but has his -draft of a new community in his waistcoat pocket. I am gently mad -myself.’[22] - -Emerson was sympathetic with the community experiments at ‘Brook Farm’ -and ‘Fruitlands,’ but not to the extent of joining them. He approved -every wild action of the experimenters, nevertheless he had a work of -his own. - -The work consisted in bringing his thought to his public by means -of lectures. He was not overfond of the medium of communication. -‘Are not lectures a kind of Peter Parley’s story of Uncle Plato, -and a puppet show of the Eleusinian mysteries?’ he asks. It is not -recorded what he thought of that kind of lecturing which may best be -described in Byron’s phrase--‘to giggle and make giggle.’ He frankly -(but unenviously) admired the speaker who could produce instantaneous -effects, moving the audience to laughter or tears. His own gifts -were of another sort. When ‘the stout Illinoisian’ after a short -trial walked out of the hall Emerson’s sympathies were with him: -‘Shakespeare, or Franklin, or Esop, coming to Illinois, would say, I -must give my wisdom a comic form,...’ - -Urged thereto by his generous friend Alexander Ireland of the -Manchester ‘Examiner,’ who took on himself all the business -responsibilities, Emerson (in 1847) made a lecturing trip to England. -He spoke in Manchester, Edinburgh, London, and elsewhere. The lectures -were ‘attacked by the clergymen,’ and the attacks met with ‘pale though -brave defences’ by Emerson’s friends. After a few weeks in Paris, -then in the throes of the revolution, the lecturer returned by way of -England to America. - -The crisis in the anti-slavery conflict was approaching. Emerson, in -spite of his philosophical attitude towards reformers, became more -and more identified with the Abolitionists. During a political speech -at Cambridge he was repeatedly hissed by students. According to an -eye-witness, he ‘seemed absolutely to enjoy it.’ As late as 1861 he -was received with marked hostility by the audience which gathered at -the annual meeting of the Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Society. ‘The Mob -roared whenever I attempted to speak, and after several beginnings -I withdrew.’ The breaking out of the war in a way relieved him. Now -people knew where they stood. - -His chief source of income was cut off for a time. The public was -not in the mood for lectures such as his. Later he found it possible -to resume his courses, and he continued to lecture effectively until -within a few years of his death. - -Emerson’s principal books are: _Nature_, 1836; _Essays_, 1841; -_Essays_, ‘second series,’ 1844; _Poems_, 1847; _Miscellanies_, -1849 (lectures and addresses, together with a reprint of _Nature_); -_Representative Men_, 1850; _English Traits_, 1856; _Conduct of Life_, -1860; _May-Day and Other Pieces_, 1867; _Society and Solitude_, 1870; -_Letters and Social Aims_, 1876; _Lectures and Biographical Sketches_, -1884; and _Natural History of Intellect_, 1893. He edited a number -of Carlyle’s books, contributed several chapters to the _Memoirs of -Margaret Fuller Ossoli_ and compiled a poetic anthology, _Parnassus_, -1875. _The Correspondence of Thomas Carlyle and Ralph Waldo Emerson_ -(edited by C. E. Norton), 1883, contains two hundred of Emerson’s -letters. - -In 1863 Emerson was one of the ‘visitors’ to the Military Academy at -West Point. In 1866 he was Phi Beta Kappa orator at Harvard, and the -following year received from his college the degree of LL. D. - -From 1867 to 1879 he was an overseer of Harvard. In 1870, before a -little audience of students from the advanced classes, he gave a course -on the ‘Natural History of Intellect,’ the subject in the handling of -which he had hoped to write his master work. One of the surprises of -his later life was his nomination for the office of Lord Rector of -Glasgow University by the independent party (1874). There were two -other candidates. Emerson polled five hundred votes. Disraeli was -victor with seven hundred votes. - -Emerson’s memory failed gradually, but the defect was not much noticed -until after the shock consequent on the burning of his house (1872). -A trip to Egypt did much to restore his health and he never lost the -‘royal trait of cheerfulness.’ He died, after a brief illness, on April -27, 1882. - - -II - -EMERSON’S CHARACTER - -The praise which Emerson gives to character at the expense of -luxurious surroundings was sincere. His own tastes were very simple. -‘Can anything be so elegant as to have few wants and to serve them -one’s self, so as to have something left to give, instead of being -always prompt to grab?’ Acknowledging himself enmeshed in the -conventionalities of ‘civilized’ life and no more responsible than his -fellow victims, he nevertheless did what he could to follow out his -theory. He would at least not be one of the infirm people of society, -who, if they miss any one of their comforts, ‘represent themselves as -the most wronged and most wretched persons on earth.’ Emerson did not -live in the woods on twenty-seven cents a week, but he had no objection -to a friend’s living that way if the friend found it profitable. For -himself he would not be ‘absurd and pedantic in reform.’ - -No characteristic is more marked than his spirit of tolerance. It was -not of a smooth, purring sort, growing out of eagerness to please or -unwillingness to offend, but rather an aggressive tolerance. Emerson -would not merely grant to every man ‘the allowance he takes,’ but would -even force him to take it. He was patient with the most obnoxious of -reformers. And he could be tolerant with those who could tolerate -nothing. - -With pronounced and original views he had little solicitude to impose -his views on others. He was without egotism. To state the truth as he -apprehended it and to let the world come to his ideas if the world -could and would, contented him. But he had no quarrel with the order of -things. His good humor and smiling patience are manifest in everything -he has written. - -Emerson held firmly to the doctrine of the brotherhood of man, yet with -no touch of the unctuous fraternizer. He had the rebuffs that all must -encounter who try to break down the partition wall between classes. -In an attempt to solve, according to the Golden Rule, the problem of -a servant’s status in the household, he was thoroughly beaten and -laughingly acknowledged it. He did his share, but the servant refused -to fraternize. - -He was a good citizen, an excellent neighbor, prompt in the -acknowledgment of all homely duties. His was a large-souled, benignant, -and gracious nature. There was something healing in his mere presence, -though no word was spoken. - - -III - -THE WRITER - -Emerson gave sound advice on the art of writing, like a professor of -rhetoric. He commended the sentences that would stand the test of the -voice. This is applying physiology to literature. He laughed at the -habit of exaggeration, though he also said, ‘The superlative is as -good as the positive if it be alive.’ His rules are excellent, and if -followed must give distinction to whatever page of writing they are -applied. But while they go no deeper than other suggestions, they point -out the obvious characteristics of his style. - -For example, Emerson thought clarity all-important. He aimed at it, -and attained it. He believed in the use of the right word, and was -dissatisfied unless it could be found. The right word is always -illuminating, and as a result Emerson’s English is full of surprises. -Even when the term employed shocks by its unexpectedness, we presently -feel that after all the choice was not grotesque. In practice Emerson -was no spendthrift of words, that currency which loses weight and value -in the ratio of one’s prodigality, but delighted in economy. No doubt -his style is aphoristic--that is a natural result of writing aphorisms. -But if no less aphoristic, it is far more logical than is commonly -reported. The want of sequence in Emerson’s work has been exaggerated, -often to the point of absurdity. - -There are writers who have two distinct literary styles, as they have -two faces, one to be photographed in, and one for natural wear. Emerson -had one style, which was dual-toned, each tone taking the color of his -prevailing thought, and each shading imperceptibly into the other. A -dozen pages picked at random from his best essays will hardly fail to -show how sublimated his diction could be at times. Then does it come -near to the line dividing poetry from prose, from which it presently -falls away to the level of everyday need. Poetic as Emerson’s diction -frequently is, it is always controlled. On the other hand, when it -sinks to plain prose it never loses the air of distinction and breeding. - - -IV - -_NATURE, ADDRESSES, AND LECTURES_ - -In the introduction of his first book, _Nature_, Emerson announces -his favorite doctrine, the necessity of seeing the world through our -own eyes, of being original, not imitative. He then proceeds with his -interpretation. Nature not only exalts man, giving him a pleasure so -tonic that it admonishes to temperance, but also renders him certain -services. They may be classified under Commodity, Beauty, Language, -and Discipline. The first, albeit the lowest, is perfect in its kind; -men everywhere comprehend the ‘steady and prodigal provision’ that has -been made for their comfort. Beauty is the second, and meets a nobler -want. ‘Nature satisfies by its loveliness,’ and ‘without any mixture of -corporeal benefit.’ ‘Give me health and a day, and I will make the pomp -of emperors ridiculous.’ This is not enough, there must be a spiritual -element. Such element is found in the will and virtue of man. An act -of truth or heroism ‘seems at once to draw to itself the sky as its -temple.’ Beauty in Nature also becomes an object of the intellect. It -reforms itself in the mind, leads to a new creation, and hence Art. - -Nature is the source of language, words being the signs of natural -facts. But ‘every natural fact is a symbol of some spiritual fact.’ -In brief, ‘the world is emblematic.’ Nature is a discipline of the -understanding, devoting herself to forming the common-sense. Nature -is the discipline of the will, after which she becomes the ally -of Religion. In short, so great is the part played by Nature in -disciplining man that the ‘noble doubt’ perpetually arises ‘whether -the end be not the Final Cause of the Universe; and whether nature -outwardly exists.’ - -What then? It makes no difference ‘whether Orion is up there in heaven -or some god paints the image in the firmament of the soul.’ Culture -has the uniform effect of leading us to regard nature as a phenomenon, -not a substance. Nature herself gives us the hint of Idealism. The -poet teaches the same lesson. The philosopher seeking, not Beauty, but -Truth, dissolves the ‘solid seeming block of matter’ by a thought. -Intellectual science begets ‘invariably a doubt of the existence of -matter.’ Ethics and religion have the same effect of degrading ‘nature -and suggesting its dependence on spirit.’ - -Back of all nature, then, is spirit. ‘The world proceeds from the same -spirit as the body of man. It is a remoter and inferior incarnation of -God.’ At present man has not come into his whole kingdom. He depends on -his understanding alone. Let him apply all his powers, the reason as -well as the understanding. - -Brief as it is, this little book shows to perfection the richness of -Emerson’s thought, his skill in the apothegm, his economy of phrase, -the poetic cast of his mind, and the beauty of his diction. - -Nine addresses and lectures are printed along with _Nature_ in the -definitive edition of Emerson’s writings. The first is the Phi Beta -Kappa Oration, ‘The American Scholar,’ in which Emerson sounds with -resonant tone that note of independence so marked in all his teaching. -It was time, he thought, for the ‘sluggard intellect’ of America to -‘look from under its iron lids’ and prove itself equal to something -more than ‘exertions of mechanical skill.’ We have been too long the -bond slave of Europe. - -True emancipation consists in freedom from the idea that only a few -gifted ones of the earth are privileged to learn truth at first hand. -Let us not be cowed by great men. - -Emerson notes three influences acting upon the scholar. First, nature, -always with us and taking the impress of our minds. Second, books, -which, noble as they are in theory, have their danger: ‘I had better -never see a book than be warped by its attraction clean out of my own -orbit.’ Third, life, everything which is the opposite of mere thinking. -‘If it were only for a vocabulary the scholar would be covetous of -action. Life is our dictionary.’ - -Above all, he praises the obscure scholar who without hope of visible -reward, reckoning at true value the seesaw of public whim and fancy, -patient of neglect, patient of reproach, ‘is happy if he can satisfy -himself alone that this day he has seen something truly.’ - -‘The Divinity Address,’ as it is called, was thought in its day nothing -short of outrageous radicalism. The now well-known Emersonian plea for -a noble individuality is made in terms the most inspiring. He bewails -the helplessness of mankind. ‘All men go in flocks to this saint or -that poet, avoiding the God who seeth in secret.’ Emerson would drive -out the spirit which prompts a man to content himself with being ‘an -easy secondary to some Christian scheme, or sectarian connection, or -some eminent man.’ He would have men follow no one leader, however -distinguished or gifted, but seek truth at first hand, know God face to -face. And while he grants that nothing is of value in comparison with -the soul of a good and great man, even a great man becomes a source of -danger if we propose to rest in the shadow of his achievement rather -than develop our own gift. - -‘The Method of Nature’ is a rhapsody in praise of the spontaneous and -unreasoning as over against the logical and definite. Nature looks -to great results, not to little ones, to the type rather than the -individual. - -In ‘Man the Reformer’ Emerson preaches another favorite doctrine, the -necessity of manual work. There is nothing fanciful in his view. He -did not set himself against division of labor. He did not insist that -every man should be a farmer ‘any more than that every man should be a -lexicographer.’ His ‘doctrine of the Farm’ is that ‘every man ought to -stand in primary relations with the work of the world.’ - -This address should be read in connection with the one on ‘The Times,’ -which supplements it. The ideal reformer is not he who has some cause -at heart in comparison with which all other causes are naught. The -reformer is the ‘Re-maker of what man has made; a renouncer of lies, a -restorer of truth and good, imitating that great Nature which embosoms -us all, and which sleeps no moment on an old past.’ - -A reading of this address ought to be followed by a reading of the one -entitled ‘The Conservative.’ As he had advised reformers of the danger -to which they were exposed, he now warns conservatives not to forget -that they are the retrograde party. By their theory of life sickness is -a necessity and the social frame a hospital. Yet in a planet ‘peopled -with conservatives one Reformer may yet be born.’ - -In the lecture on ‘The Transcendentalist’ Emerson comes to a tempered -defence of his own. He defines the new movement; it is merely Idealism -as it shows itself in 1840--an old thing under a new name. He is very -patient with the Transcendentalists, whose chief idiosyncrasy is that -they have ‘struck work.’ ‘Now every one must do after his kind, be -he asp or angel, and these must.’ American literature and spiritual -history will profit by the turmoil. This heresy will leave its mark, as -any one will admit who knows ‘these seething brains, these admirable -radicals, these talkers who talk the sun and moon away.’ - - -V - -_THE ESSAYS_, _REPRESENTATIVE MEN_, _ENGLISH TRAITS_, _CONDUCT OF LIFE_ - -When the _Essays_ appeared, Emerson found a larger audience. He now -spoke through the medium of a recognized literary form. If all readers -do not read essays, they at least know what they are and stand in -no fear of them. Some buyers may have been tempted by the table of -contents. Titles such as ‘Self-Reliance,’ ‘Compensation,’ ‘Friendship,’ -‘Heroism,’ had an encouraging sound and promised useful advice. - -In the essay on ‘History,’ Emerson reaffirms the doctrine of the unity -of human nature. There is ‘one mind,’ history is its record. What we -possess in common with the men of the past enables us to comprehend and -interpret the actions of the men of the past. The facts must square -with our own experience. - -The theme is continued in ‘Self-Reliance.’ As there is one mind common -to all men, and as what belongs to greatness of the Past belongs also -to us, it is suicide to descend to imitation. ‘Speak your latent -conviction and it shall become the universal sense.’ The whole essay -is a glowing exhortation to men to live largely and stand on their own -feet, facing the world with the nonchalance begotten of health, good -humor, and the sense of possession. - -In ‘Compensation’ the essayist notes those inexorable forces by which -a balance is kept in the world, the laws by virtue of which ‘things -refuse to be mismanaged long.’ In ‘Spiritual Laws’ he shows the -importance of living the life of nature. Let no man import into his -mind ‘difficulties which are none of his.’ The essay on ‘Love’ is a -prose poem in honor of that passion which ‘makes the clown gentle, and -gives the coward heart.’ Following it is the essay on ‘Friendship’ -with its austere definitions. ‘I do not wish to treat friendships -daintily, but with roughest courage.’ ‘Friendship implies sincerity, -and sincerity is the luxury allowed, like diadems and authority, only -to the highest rank.’ - -Emerson writes on ‘Prudence’ in order to balance those fine lyric -words of Love and Friendship with words of coarser sound. Prudence -considered in itself is naught; but recognized as one of the conditions -of existence, it deserves our utmost attention. It keeps a man from -standing in false and bitter relations to other men. Emerson had -no patience with people who, because they have genius or beauty, -expect an exception of the laws of Nature to be made in their case. -Notwithstanding their gifts, they must toe the mark. - -‘Heroism,’ the eighth essay in this volume, contains a definition of -the hero which does not coincide with the popular conception. We are -so accustomed to seeing our heroes crowned with wreaths and overwhelmed -with lecture engagements the day following the act of valor that we -are surprised to read: ‘Heroism works in contradiction to the voice of -mankind.’ Emerson gives a new turn to the old phrase ‘the heroic in -everyday life.’ Life, he says, has its ‘ragged and dangerous front.’ It -is full of evils against which the man must be armed. ‘Let him hear in -season that he is born into a state of war.’ To this ‘militant attitude -of the soul’ Emerson gave the name of heroism. In its rudest form it is -‘contempt for safety and ease.’ - -To some readers the essay on ‘The Over-Soul’ is at once the clearest -and the most darkened, the plainest and the most enigmatic of the -essays in this book. But there is no misapprehending the value of this -effort to put, not in rigid scientific terms, but in glowing and lofty -imagery, the dependence of man on the Infinite, the marvel of that -Immensity which is the background of our being. ‘From within or from -behind, a light shines through us upon things, and makes us aware that -we are nothing, but the light is all.’ It is the universal mind by -which all being is enveloped and interpenetrated. - -The essay on ‘Circles’ contains this thought: Outside every circle -another may be drawn. Opinion seeks to crystallize at a certain limit, -to insist that there is nothing beyond. The soul bursts these barriers -to set new limits, which in turn are good only for a time. Man must -therefore keep himself always open to the conception of a larger -circle. Let him ‘prefer truth to his past apprehension of truth.’ - -How to seek truth is the subject of the next essay, ‘Intellect,’ a -tribute to the spontaneous action of the mind. We do not control our -thoughts but are controlled by them. All we can do is to clear away -obstructions and ‘suffer the intellect to see.’ Pursue truth and it -avoids you. Relax the energy of your pursuit and it comes to you; yet -the pursuit was as necessary as the subsequent relaxation. - -In the final essay, on ‘Art,’ the large, simple, and homely elements -are praised, the qualities which appeal to universal human nature. In -the paintings of the Old World one thinks to be astonished by something -new and strange, and he is struck by the familiar look. He is reminded -of what he had always known. - -The second series of _Essays_ treats of ‘The Poet,’ ‘Experience,’ -‘Character,’ ‘Manners,’ ‘Gifts,’ ‘Nature,’ ‘Politics,’ of ‘Nominalist -and Realist;’ there is also a lecture on ‘New England Reformers.’ -Emerson notes the shallow nature of a theory of poetry busied only with -externals. Neither is that poetry which is written ‘at a safe distance -from our own experience.’ The poet is representative. ‘He stands among -common men for the complete man, and apprises us not of his wealth but -of the commonwealth.’ - -‘Experience’ is in praise of a mode of life which consists in living -without making a fuss about it, filling the time, taking hold where one -can and exhausting the possibilities. Only fanatics say it is not worth -while. ‘Let us be poised, and wise, and our own, to-day. Let us treat -the men and women well; treat them as if they were real; perhaps they -are.’ - -‘Character’ and ‘Manners’ are related studies. There is a moral order -in the world. Nothing can withstand it. ‘Character is this moral order -seen through the medium of an individual nature.’ Society has raised -certain artificial distinctions. But they must be recognized. Society -is real, and grows out of a genuine need. ‘The painted phantasm Fashion -casts a species of derision on what we say. But I will neither be -driven from some allowance to Fashion as a symbolic institution, nor -from the belief that love is the basis of courtesy.’ - -‘Gifts’ is a fine bit of paradox. ‘The gift, to be true, must be the -flowing of the giver unto me, correspondent to my flowing unto him. -When the waters are at level, then my goods pass to him, and his to -me.’ To give useful things denies the relation. Hence the fitness of -beautiful things. - -There is bold imagery in the essay on ‘Nature.’ ‘Plants are the young -of the world, but they grope ever upward toward consciousness; the -trees are imperfect men, and seem to bemoan their imprisonment, rooted -to the ground. The animal is the novice and probationer of a more -advanced order. The men though young, having tasted the first drop from -the cup of thought, are already dissipated: the maples and ferns are -still uncorrupt; yet no doubt when they come to consciousness they too -will curse and swear.’ Thus does Emerson describe that glimpse he had -of a ‘system in transition.’ - -A healthy optimism pervades the essay on ‘Politics.’ In spite of -meddling and selfishness the foundations of the State are very secure. -‘Things have their laws, as well as men; and things refuse to be -trifled with.’ By a higher law property will be protected. The same -necessity secures to each nation the form of governing best suited -to it. Yet all forms are defective. Good men ‘must not obey the laws -too well.’ Perfect government rests on character at last. There are -dreamers who do not despair of seeing the State renovated ‘on the -principle of right and love.’ - -_Representative Men_ consists of lectures on Plato, Swedenborg, -Montaigne, Shakespeare, Napoleon, and Goethe, together with an -introduction on the ‘Uses of Great Men.’ - -Plato is the man who makes havoc with originalities, the philosopher -whose writings have been for twenty-two hundred years the Bible of the -learned, but who has his defects. Intellectual in aim, and therefore -literary, he attempts a system of the universe and fails to complete it -or make it intelligible. - -Swedenborg is the representative of mysticism, great with its power, -weak with its defects. - -Out of the eternal conflict between abstractionist and materialist -arises another type of mind, one that laughs at both philosophies -for being out of their depth and pushing too far. He is the sceptic, -Montaigne, for example. The type was peculiarly grateful to Emerson, -admiring as he did a man who talked with shrewdness, was not literary, -who knew the world, used the positive degree, never shrieked, and had -no wish to annihilate time and space. - -Shakespeare meets our conception of the Poet, ‘a heart in unison -with his time and country,’ whose production comes ‘freighted with -the weightiest convictions and pointed with the most determined aims -which any man or class knows of in his times.’ He demonstrated the -possibility of translating things into song. The ear is ravished by -the beauty of his lines, ‘yet the sentence is so loaded with meaning -and so linked with its foregoers and followers, that the logician is -satisfied.’ And he had the royal trait of cheerfulness. - -In Napoleon we have ‘the strong and ready actor’ who in the ‘universal -imbecility, indecision, and indolence of men’ knows how to take -occasion by the beard. His life is an answer to cowardly doubts. -Emerson calls Napoleon ‘the agent or attorney of the middle class of -modern society.’ It was he who showed what could be done by the use -of common virtues. His experiment failed because he had a selfish and -sensual aim. In the last analysis Napoleon was not a gentleman. - -Goethe is the other phase of the genius of the age. There is a -provision for the writer in the scheme of things. Nature insists on -being reported. To Man the universe is something to be recorded. -The instinct exists in different degrees. One has the power to ‘see -connection where the multitude sees fragments.’ Lift this faculty to a -high degree and you have the great German poet who well-nigh restored -literature to its primal significance. ‘There must be a man behind the -book.’ ‘The old Eternal Genius who built the world has confided himself -more to this man than any other.’ Goethe is the type of culture. Here, -too, is his defect. For his devotion is not to pure truth, but to truth -for the sake of culture. - -_Representative Men_ was succeeded by _English Traits_, a volume in -which Emerson taught his countrymen more about England than they had -hitherto known or fancied. Histories, statistical reports, treatises on -British art and British manufactures, are useful and sometimes dreary -reading; they give us facts heaped on facts. It is a relief to put -them down and take up _English Traits_ in order to learn what we have -been reading about. - -Through Emerson’s eyes we can see this little island ‘a prize for the -best race,’ its singular people, chained to their logic, willing ‘to -kiss the dust before a fact,’ strong in their sense of brotherhood, -yet fond each of his own way, incommunicable, ‘in short every one of -these islanders an island in himself.’ They have a ‘superfluity of -self-regard’--which is a secret of their power; they are assertive, -crotchety, wholly forgetful of ‘a cardinal article in the bill -of social rights,’ that every man ‘has a right to his own ears;’ -nevertheless Emerson concludes (and an Englishman would assure him no -other conclusion was possible) they are the best stock in the world. -Here is the typical islander as Emerson paints him. ‘He is a churl with -a soft place in his heart, whose speech is a brash of bitter waters, -but who loves to help you at a pinch. He says no, and serves you, and -your thanks disgust him.’ - -There are paragraphs and chapters on the Aristocracy, the Universities, -Religion, Literature, and the Press, that is, the ‘Times.’ Every page -glitters with wit. Every apothegm contains the full proportion of -truth and untruth which sayings of that sort are wont to contain. Says -Emerson: ‘The gospel the Anglican church preaches is, ‘“By taste are ye -saved.”’ Yet the more one reflects on this monstrous statement, the -more is he astonished at the amount of truth in it. - -The volume entitled _Conduct of Life_ has a fine rough vigor. Here -are displayed to advantage Emerson’s robust habit of mind, searching -analysis, vivacity and picturesqueness of expression, epigrammatic -skill, homely plain sense, and lofty idealism. The first essay, ‘Fate,’ -is an energetic and striking performance. One needs the optimism of -its last paragraphs to counteract the grim terror of the earlier ones. -Seldom has the relentless ferocity of Circumstance, Fate, Environment, -been set forth in terms equally emphatic. The companion essay, ‘Power,’ -is a study of the influence of brute force (and its compensations) in -life and history. Emerson shows the value of the ‘bruiser’ in politics, -trade, and in society. This leads to the third subject, ‘Wealth.’ Money -must be had if only to buy bread. Nature insults the man who will -not work. ‘She starves, taunts, and torments him, takes away warmth, -laughter, sleep, friends and daylight, until he has fought his way to -his own loaf.’ But what men of sense want is power, mastery, not candy; -they esteem wealth to be ‘the assimilation of nature to themselves.’ - -To all this there must be a corrective; it is discussed in the essay -on ‘Culture.’ Nature ruins a man to gain her ends, makes him strong -in things she wants done, weak otherwise, and then robs him of his -sense of proportion so that he becomes an egotist. Culture restores the -balance. Culture rescues a man from himself, ‘kills his exaggeration.’ -The simpler means to it are books, travel, society, solitude; and there -are nobler ones, not the least of which is adversity. The discussion -is continued in the practical essay on ‘Behavior’ and lifted to the -highest plane in the essay on ‘Worship.’ The whole state of man is a -state of culture, ‘and its flowering and completion may be described as -Religion or Worship.’ For all its beauty this chapter will not please -many people. They may take refuge in ‘Considerations by the Way,’ which -shows the ‘good of evil,’ or in the fine essay on ‘Beauty’ or the -ironical little closing piece called ‘Illusions.’ - - -VI - -THE POEMS - -Many paragraphs in _Nature_ and the _Essays_ struggle in their prose -environment as if seeking a higher medium of expression. Emerson’s -command of poetic materials was extraordinary, though it fails to -justify the claims sometimes made for him. He could be wilfully -careless in respect to technique. There are moments when no cacophonous -combination terrifies him. Then will he say his say though the language -creak. - -He had published freely in ‘The Dial,’ where he met his own little -audience, but when the question arose of putting his verses in -the pretentious form of a book Emerson hesitated. Only after much -deliberation, continued through four years, did he come finally to a -decision. - -His capital theme is Nature, ‘the inscrutable and mute.’ ‘Woodnotes,’ -‘Monadnock,’ ‘May-Day,’ ‘My Garden,’ ‘Sea-Shore,’ ‘Song of Nature,’ -‘Nature,’ ‘The Snow Storm,’ ‘Waldeinsamkeit,’ ‘Musketaquit,’ ‘The -Adirondacs,’ are varied renderings of the subject. Among the lines -which haunt the memory, take for example this description of the sea:-- - - The opaline, the plentiful and strong, - Yet beautiful as is the rose in June, - - * * * * * - - Purger of earth, and medicine of men; - Creating a sweet climate by my breath, - Washing out harms and griefs from memory, - And, in my mathematic ebb and flow, - Giving a hint of that which changes not. - -Splendid imagery and rich coloring mark the fine passages in ‘May-Day’ -describing the advance of summer:-- - - As poured the flood of the ancient sea - Spilling over mountain chains, - Bending forests as bends the sedge, - Faster flowing o’er the plains,-- - A world-wide wave with a foaming edge - That rims the running silver sheet,-- - So pours the deluge of the heat - Broad northward o’er the land, - Painting artless paradises, - Drugging herbs with Syrian spices, - Fanning secret fires which glow - In columbine and clover-blow, - - * * * * * - - The million-handed sculptor moulds - Quaintest bud and blossom folds, - The million-handed painter pours - Opal hues and purple dye; - Azaleas flush the island floors, - And the tints of heaven reply. - -Leaving to one side the mere external shows of the world, and calling -in science to aid imagination, the poet strikes out stanzas like these -from the ‘Song of Nature:’-- - - I wrote the past in characters - Of rock and fire the scroll, - The building in the coral sea, - The planting of the coal. - - And thefts from satellites and rings - And broken stars I drew, - And out of spent and aged things - I formed the world anew; - - What time the gods kept carnival, - Tricked out in star and flower, - And in cramp elf and saurian forms - They swathed their too much power. - -‘Hamatreya,’ the exquisite ‘Rhodora,’ and the musical allegory ‘Two -Rivers’ are important as showing the part played by Nature in Emerson’s -verse. - -Certain poems repeat (or anticipate) the ideas of the essays. ‘Brahma,’ -for example, is an incomparable setting of the doctrine of the -universal soul or ground of all things:-- - - Far or forgot to me is near; - Shadow and sunlight are the same; - The vanished gods to me appear; - And one to me are shame and fame. - -‘The Sphinx’ announces, in a sphinx-like manner it must be -acknowledged, though with rare beauty in individual lines, the doctrine -of man’s relation to all existences, comprehending one phase of which -man has the key to the whole. ‘Uriel’ is a declaration of the poet’s -faith in good out of evil. ‘The Problem’ teaches the imminence of the -Infinite:-- - - The hand that rounded Peter’s dome - And groined the aisles of Christian Rome - Wrought in a sad sincerity; - Himself from God he could not free; - He builded better than he knew;-- - The conscious stone to beauty grew. - -Rich in thought and abounding in genuine poetic gold are ‘The -World-Soul,’ ‘The Visit,’ ‘Destiny,’ ‘Days’ (Emerson’s perfect poem), -‘Forerunners,’ ‘Xenophanes,’ ‘The Day’s Ration,’ and the ‘Ode to -Beauty.’ - -‘Merlin’ and ‘Saadi’ treat of the poet and his mission. The one is a -protest against the tinkling rhyme, an art without substance; the other -exalts the calling of the bard, but warns him that while he has need of -men and they of him, the true poet dwells alone. Together with these -suggestive verses should be read the posthumous fragment originally -intended for a masque.[23] - -Of his occasional and patriotic poems the ‘Concord Hymn,’ sung at the -dedication of the battle monument in 1837, must be held an imperishable -part of our young literature. The winged words of the first stanza are -among the not-to-be-forgotten things, and there is rare beauty in the -second stanza:-- - - The foe long since in silence slept; - Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; - And Time the ruined bridge has swept - Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. - -For the Concord celebration of 1857 Emerson wrote the ‘Ode’ beginning - - O tenderly the haughty day - Fills his blue urn with fire; - -and for the ‘Jubilee Concert’ in Music Hall, on the day Emancipation -went into effect, the ‘Boston Hymn,’ with the bold stanzas:-- - - God said, I am tired of kings, - I suffer them no more; - Up to my ear the morning brings - The outrage of the poor. - - Think ye I made this ball - A field of havoc and war, - Where tyrants great and tyrants small - Might harry the weak and poor? - -The best of Emerson’s patriotic poems is the ‘Voluntaries,’ containing -the often quoted and perfect lines:-- - - So nigh is grandeur to our dust, - So near is God to man, - When Duty whispers low, _Thou must_, - The youth replies, _I can_. - -The personal poems are ‘Good-Bye,’ ‘Terminus,’ ‘In Memoriam,’ ‘Dirge,’ -and ‘Threnody.’ The last of the group is the poet’s lament for his -first-born, the ‘hyacinthine boy’ of five years, who died in 1842. It -is hardly worth the while to compare these exquisite verses with some -other poem born of intense sorrow with a view to determining whether -they are greater, or less. Their wondrous beauty is as palpable as it -is unresembling. - -Comparisons little befit Emerson the poet. His muse was wayward. -Extreme eulogists do him injury by applying to him standards that were -none of his. They forget how he said of himself that he was ‘not a -poet, but a lover of poetry and poets, and merely serving as a writer, -etc., in this empty America before the arrival of poets.’ For the -extravagancies of the extremists the tempered admirers find themselves -regularly lectured, as if they were children who must have it explained -to them that Emerson was not a Keats or a Shelley, or a Hugo. - -Emerson as frequently gets less than he deserves as more. What -niggardly praise is that from the pen of an eminent living English -man of letters who can only suppose that Emerson ‘knew what he was -about when he wandered into the fairyland of verse, and that in such -moments _he found nothing better to his hand_!’ But the ‘Threnody,’ -‘Monadnock,’ ‘May-Day,’ ‘Voluntaries,’ and ‘The Problem,’ whatever -else may be true of them, are not the work of a man who found nothing -better to his hand. - - -VII - -LATEST BOOKS - -Five volumes remain to be commented on. The first, _Society and -Solitude_ (so called after the initial paper), is a group of twelve -essays entitled ‘Civilization,’ ‘Art,’ ‘Eloquence,’ ‘Domestic Life,’ -‘Farming,’ ‘Works and Days,’ ‘Books,’ ‘Clubs,’ ‘Courage,’ ‘Success,’ -and ‘Old Age.’ They have mostly a practical bent. That on ‘Books’ -doubtless gives an account of Emerson’s own reading, adequate as -far as it expresses his literary preferences, inadequate respecting -completeness. For example, Emerson must have read George Borrow, of -an acquaintance with whom he repeatedly gives proof, but these lists -contain no mention of _Lavengro_ or _Romany Rye_. Here too will be -found his famous heresy about the value of translations, but not so -radically stated by Emerson as it is sometimes stated by those who -propose to attack Emerson’s position. - -_Letters and Social Aims_ (a volume forced from him by the rumor -that an English house proposed to reprint his early papers from ‘The -Dial’) covers topics as diverse as, on the one hand, ‘Social Aims,’ -‘Quotation and Originality,’ ‘The Comic,’ and on the other, ‘Poetry and -Imagination,’ ‘Inspiration,’ ‘Greatness,’ ‘Immortality.’ There are also -essays on ‘Eloquence,’ ‘Resources,’ ‘Progress of Culture,’ and ‘Persian -Poetry.’ - -_Lectures and Biographical Sketches_ consists of nineteen pieces, -among which will be found ‘Historic Notes of Life and Letters in New -England,’ ‘The Superlative,’ and the brilliant sketches of Thoreau, of -Ezra Ripley, and of Carlyle. - -_Miscellanies_ (not to be confounded with the volume of 1849 bearing -the same title) contains a number of papers and addresses on political -topics, and is indispensable to the student of Emerson’s life. Here -will be found his speeches on John Brown, on the Fugitive Slave Law, on -Emancipation in the West Indies, on American Civilization, on Lincoln, -and that inspiring lecture, ‘The Fortune of the Republic.’ - -_Natural History of Intellect and Other Papers_ is made up of lectures -from the Harvard University course (1870–71) and earlier courses, and a -sheaf of papers from ‘The Dial,’ mostly on ‘Modern Literature.’ He who -deplores the curtness of the note on Tennyson in _English Traits_ will -be glad to seek comfort in this earlier tribute. Yet the comfort may -prove to be less than he would like. - - * * * * * - -Emerson’s audience is large and varied. Let us consider a few among the -varieties of those who are attracted by his genius and the charm of -his personality. - -To certain hardy investigators Emerson is not a mere man of letters -whose thought, radiantly clothed, takes the philosophical form, he is -a philosopher almost in the strict sense. They find a place for him in -their classification. They know exactly what ideas, derived from what -pundits, have come out with what new inflection in his writings. They -have done for Emerson more than he could do, or perhaps cared to do, -for himself; they have given him a system. - -All this is important and valuable. No little praise is due to results -worked out with so much courage and critical acumen. Whether the -conclusions are quite true is another question. - -Doubtless, too, there are readers who, taking their cue from the class -just mentioned, find their self-love flattered as they turn the pages -of the _Essays_ and the _Conduct of Life_. Not only, in spite of -dark sayings here and there, does ‘philosophy’ prove easier and more -delightful than they were wont to think, but their estimate of their -own mental powers is immensely enlarged. - -There are the critics of letters whose function is interpretative, and -whose influence is restraining. Solicitous to do their author justice, -they are above all solicitous that injustice shall not be done him -by overpraise. They bring proof that Emerson was not a precursor of -Darwin, that he was inferior to Carlyle, that he was not a poet, that -he was never a great and not always a good writer, that he was apt -to impose on his reader as a new truth an old error in ‘a novel and -fascinating dress,’ that he was even capable of writing words without -ideas. - -But the motives which draw and bind to him the great majority of -Emerson’s readers are connected with literature rather than philosophy -or criticism. A prerogative of the man of letters is to be read both -for what he says and for the way he says it. In the case of Emerson his -thought may not be divided from the verbal setting. ‘He can never get -beyond the English language.’ ‘No merely French, or German, or Italian -reader will have the least notion of the magic of his diction.’[24] - -Perhaps in the long run they get the most out of Emerson who read -him not for stimulus, for his militant optimism, for the shock his -fine-phrased audacities give their humdrum opinions, for his uplifting -idealism (all of which they are sure to get and profit by), but who -read him for literary pleasure, for downright good-fellowship, and -for the humor that is in him. That he attracts a large audience of -this (seemingly) unimportant class is enough to show how little danger -there is that Emerson will be handed over to the keeping of the merely -erudite and bookish part of the public. - -It is well to remember that he had no intention of being so disposed -of. When he said, ‘My own habitual view is to the well being of -students or scholars,’ he was careful immediately to explain that he -used the word ‘student’ in no restricted sense. ‘The class of scholars -or students ... is a class that comprises in some sort all mankind, -comprises every man in the best hours of his life.’ He pictures the -newsboy entering a train filled with men going to business. The morning -papers are bought, and ‘instantly the entire rectangular assembly, -fresh from their breakfast, are bending as one man to their second -breakfast.’ This was Emerson’s student body, this was the audience he -aimed to reach. - -Did he reach this body? It is believed that he did, if not always -directly, then vicariously. He was compelled as a matter of course to -speak in his own way--the impossible thing for him was to do violence -to his genius. Emerson invented the phrase, ‘the man in the street.’ -Now it is notorious that the man in the street cares little about -the ‘over-soul.’ The mere juxtaposition of the two expressions is -comic. But Emerson did not talk of the over-soul all the time. He -had a Franklin-like common-sense and a pithiness of speech which are -captivating. Perhaps in magnifying his idealism we have neglected to do -justice to his mundane philosophy. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [19] Ellen (Tucker) Emerson was but twenty years of age at the - time of her death. Emerson first saw her in December, 1827. - They were married about two years later. - - [20] Cabot: _Emerson_, i, 244. - - [21] G. W. Cooke: _An Historical and Biographical Introduction to - accompany_ THE DIAL _as reprinted in numbers for The Rowfant - Club_ [Cleveland], 1902. - - [22] Emerson to Carlyle, Oct. 30, 1840. - - [23] ‘The Poet,’ printed in the appendix of the definitive edition - of Emerson’s _Poems_. - - [24] Richard Garnett. - - - - -VII - -_Edgar Allan Poe_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =R. W. Griswold=: ‘Memoir of the Author’ prefixed to the _Works - of Edgar A. Poe_, vol. iii, 1850. - - =E. C. Stedman=: _Edgar Allan Poe_, 1881. - - =J. H. Ingram=: _Edgar Allan Poe, his Life, Letters, and - Opinions_, 1880. - - =G. E. Woodberry=: _Edgar Allan Poe_, ‘American Men of Letters,’ - fourth edition, 1888. - - =J. A. Harrison=: _Life and Letters of Edgar Allan Poe_ [1902–03]. - - =Emile Lauvrière=: _Edgar Poe, sa Vie et son Œuvre, étude de - psychologie pathologique_, 1904. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -Poe was of Irish extraction. His great-grandfather, John Poe, came -to America about 1745 and settled near Lancaster, Pennsylvania. John -Poe’s son David (known in the annals of Baltimore as ‘old General -Poe’) rendered notable services to his country during the Revolution. -Lafayette remembered him well and during a visit to Baltimore in 1824 -asked to be taken to the place where Poe was buried. ‘Ici repose un -cœur noble,’ said Lafayette as he knelt and kissed the old patriot’s -grave. - -Of General Poe’s six children, the eldest, David, was to have been bred -to the law, but his tastes led him first to the amateur and then to the -professional stage. He married a young English actress, Mrs. Elizabeth -(Arnold) Hopkins. They had three children, William, Edgar, and -Rosalie. Edgar (afterwards known as Edgar Allan) was born in Boston, -Massachusetts, on January 19, 1809. - -The young family suffered the petty miseries incident to the life of -strolling players, and became at one time very poor. The circumstances -of David Poe’s death and the place of his burial are unknown. When Mrs. -Poe died at Richmond, Virginia, in December, 1811, Edgar was taken by -Mrs. John Allan, the wife of a highly respected merchant of that city, -and was brought up as a child of the house. - -The Allans were in England from 1815 to 1820. During this time Poe was -placed at Manor House School, Stoke Newington. He afterwards attended -the English and Classical School in Richmond and on February 14, 1826, -matriculated at the University of Virginia. His connection with the -University ceased in December of the same year. He left behind him a -reputation for marked abilities, but he is said to have lost caste by -his recklessness in card playing. Allan positively refused to pay the -youth’s gambling debts, which amounted to twenty-five hundred dollars. - -Placed in Allan’s counting-house, Poe was unhappy and rebellious, and -finally disappeared. He declared in after years that he went abroad to -offer his services to the Greeks. What he really did was to enlist in -the United States army under the name of Edgar A. Perry. During the -summer of 1827 he was with Battery H of the First Artillery at Fort -Independence, Boston. In August of that year he published _Tamerlane -and Other Poems, by a Bostonian_. The edition was small and the -pamphlet has become one of the rarest of bibliographical curiosities. - -Battery H was sent to Fort Moultrie, South Carolina, in October, 1827, -and a year later to Fortress Monroe, Virginia. At some time during this -period Poe must have made his whereabouts known to the Allans. Mrs. -Allan, who was tenderly attached to Poe, may have succeeded in bringing -about an understanding between the youth and his foster father. When -she died (in February, 1829) Poe lost his best friend. - -Allan, however, did what he could to forward the young man’s newest -ambition, which was to enter the Military Academy at West Point. He -paid for a substitute in the army and wrote letters to men who were -influential in such matters, with the result that Poe was enrolled at -the Academy on July 1, 1830. He gave his age as nineteen years and five -months. His prematurely old look led to the invention of the story that -the appointment was really procured for Poe’s son, but the son having -died the father had taken his place. - -While the question of the appointment was pending, Poe spent some -time in Baltimore and there published his second volume of verse, _Al -Aaraaf, Tamerlane, and Minor Poems_ (1829). - -The accounts of his life at the Academy are not so divergent as -to be contradictory. One classmate noted the youth’s censorious -manner: ‘I never heard him speak in terms of praise of any English -writer, living or dead.’ Excelling in French and mathematics, Poe by -intentional neglect of military duty brought about his own dismissal. -He was court-martialled and left West Point on March 7, 1831. He had -previously taken subscriptions among his friends for a new book of -verse. It was published in New York (1831) under the title of _Poems_, -‘second edition,’ and was dedicated to ‘the U. S. Corps of Cadets,’ who -are said to have been disappointed at finding in its pages none of the -local squibs with which the author had been wont to amuse them. - -Poe is next heard of in Baltimore, where he seems to have made his -home with his father’s sister, Mrs. Maria Clemm, a widow with one -child, Virginia. In 1833 ‘The Saturday Visiter’ of Baltimore offered -two prizes--one hundred dollars for a story, fifty for a poem. Poe -submitted a manuscript volume entitled ‘Tales of the Folio Club,’ and -was given one award for his famous ‘MS. Found in a Bottle.’ Had not -the conditions of the contest precluded giving both prizes to the -same person, he would have received the other award for his poem ‘The -Coliseum.’ - -Through John P. Kennedy, one of the judges in the contest, Poe came -into relations with T. W. White, the proprietor of ‘The Southern -Literary Messenger,’ published at Richmond. His contributions were -heartily welcomed. White then invited Poe to become his editorial -associate. The offer was accepted and Poe went to Richmond. Mrs. -Clemm and Virginia followed, and in May, 1836, Poe was married to his -cousin. A private marriage is said to have taken place at Baltimore the -preceding September. - -The arrangement entered into by White and Poe was most propitious. -The proprietor of the ‘Messenger’ had obtained the services of a -young man with a positive genius for the work in hand,--a young man -who was able to contribute such tales as ‘Berenice,’ ‘Morella,’ ‘Hans -Pfaall,’ ‘Metzengerstein,’ besides poems, miscellanies, and caustic -book-criticisms. On the other hand, Poe had, if a small, at least a -regular income. He could not buy luxury with a salary of five hundred -and twenty dollars, but it was a beginning, and an increase was -promised. Moreover, he was in the hands of a man who regarded him -with affection no less than admiration. Unfortunately the arrangement -was not to last. Poe had become the victim of a hereditary vice.[25] -Whether he drank much or little is of less consequence than the fact -that after a period of indulgence he was wholly unfitted for work. -Once when Poe was temporarily in Baltimore, White wrote him that if -he returned to the office it must be with the understanding that all -engagements were at an end the moment he ‘got drunk.’ Kennedy explained -Poe’s leaving the ‘Messenger’ thus: He was ‘irregular, eccentric, and -querulous, and soon gave up his place.’ - -From Richmond, Poe went to New York, attracted by some promise in -connection with a magazine. He lived in Carmine Street, and Mrs. Clemm -contributed to the family support by taking boarders. In July, 1838, -was published _The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym_. A month later Poe -removed to Philadelphia. - -He contributed to annuals and magazines and had a hand in a piece of -hack-work, _The Conchologist’s First Book_ (1839). This same year he -became assistant editor of ‘Burton’s Gentleman’s Magazine and American -Monthly,’ a periodical owned by the actor, William E. Burton, and held -his position until June, 1840. The irregularity and querulousness -which Kennedy had remarked led to misunderstandings. How the two men -differed in policy becomes plain from a letter to Poe in which Burton -says: ‘You must, my dear sir, get rid of your avowed ill feelings -towards your brother authors.’ There was a quarrel, and Poe, who -had some command of the rhetoric of abuse, described Burton as ‘a -blackguard and a villain.’ - -The year 1840 was notable in the history of American letters, for then -appeared the first collected edition of Poe’s prose writings, _Tales of -the Grotesque and Arabesque_. The edition, of seven hundred and fifty -copies, was in two volumes and contained twenty-five stories, among -them ‘Morella,’ ‘William Wilson,’ ‘The Fall of the House of Usher,’ -‘Ligeia,’ ‘Berenice,’ and ‘The Conversation of Eiros and Charmion’. - -Poe, a born ‘magazinist,’ cherished the ambition of editing a -periodical of his own in which, as he phrased it, he could ‘kick -up a dust.’ He secured a partner and actually announced that ‘The -Penn Magazine’ would begin publication on January 1, 1841. Compelled -to postpone his project, he undertook the editorship of ‘Graham’s -Magazine,’ a new monthly formed by uniting the ‘Gentleman’s,’ which -Graham had bought, and ‘The Casket.’ From February, 1841, to June, -1842, Poe contributed to every number of the new magazine, printing, -among other things, ‘The Murders in the Rue Morgue,’ ‘The Mystery of -Marie Rogêt,’ and ‘The Masque of the Red Death.’ Griswold succeeded -him in the editorial chair. Poe gave as a reason for resigning his -place ‘disgust with the namby-pamby character of the magazine.’ In the -hope of bettering his fortune, he sought a place in the Philadelphia -Custom House, but was unsuccessful. - -Notwithstanding frequent set-backs, he had it in his power at any -time to attract public notice. In 1843 he won a hundred-dollar prize -for his story ‘The Gold-Bug,’ printed in the ‘Dollar Newspaper,’ and -he lectured with success on ‘The Poets and Poetry of America.’ But -the field was barren and Poe determined on going to New York. Within -a week after his arrival in that city (April, 1844) he printed in -‘The Sun’ his famous ‘Balloon Hoax.’ In October he began work on ‘The -Evening Mirror,’ Willis’s paper, and on January 29, 1845, ‘The Raven’ -appeared in its columns and was the poetical sensation of the day. The -next month he lectured on American Poetry in the library of the New -York Historical Society. Dissatisfied with the ‘Mirror,’ he accepted -a proposition from C. F. Briggs to become one of the editors of ‘The -Broadway Journal.’ Later Poe became the sole editor, and for a brief -time enjoyed the ambition of his life, the control of a paper of his -own. He is said to have doubled the circulation in the four months -during which he filled the editorial chair. Unfortunately he lacked -capital and could by no means secure it. ‘The Broadway Journal’ -stopped publication. - -While editing the ‘Journal’ Poe was invited to read an original -poem before the Boston Lyceum. He gave a juvenile piece, and when -criticised, defended himself with curious want of tact. That he might -lose no opportunity to alienate his contemporaries, he began publishing -in ‘Godey’s Lady’s Book’ a series of papers entitled ‘The Literati,’ -in which he gave free rein to his propensity to ‘kick up a dust.’ The -irony of his situation might well excite pity. He who most loathed a -combination of literature and fashion plates was driven for support to -the journals which made such a combination their chief feature. - -At the close of 1845 was published _The Raven and Other Poems_, the -first collected edition of Poe’s verse. Occasionally the poet was seen -at literary gatherings, where he left the most agreeable impression by -his manner, appearance, and conversation. But his fortunes steadily -declined, and in 1846, after he had moved to Fordham, a suburb of New -York, he fell into desperate straits. His frail little wife, always an -invalid, grew steadily worse. An appeal was made through the journals -in behalf of the unfortunate family. Mrs. Poe died on January 30, 1847. -Her husband’s grief was so poignant that it is with amazement one reads -of the strange affairs of the heart following this event. - -Recovering from the severe illness which followed his wife’s death, -Poe resumed work. He lectured and he wrote. _Eureka_ was published -early in 1847. The consuming desire to own and edit a magazine was no -less consuming, and he made some progress towards founding ‘The Stylus.’ - -The summer of 1849 Poe spent in Richmond and was received with -cordiality. He proposed marriage to Mrs. Shelton of that city, a -wealthy widow, somewhat older than himself, and was accepted. On the -last of September he started for New York to get Mrs. Clemm and bring -her to Richmond. He was found almost unconscious on October 3 at -Baltimore, in a saloon used as a voting place, was taken to a hospital, -and died at five o’clock on the morning of October 7, 1849. - - -II - -POE’S CHARACTER - -Poe’s wilfulness in marring his own fortunes bordered on fatuity. -At an age when men give over youthful excesses merely because they -are incongruous, he had not so much as begun to ‘settle down.’ The -appropriate period for sowing wild oats is brief at best. Nothing -justifies an undue prolongation. It were absurd to take the lofty -tone with a man of genius because at the age of seventeen he carried -to extreme the indulgences characteristic of the youth of his time, -or because at eighteen he ran away from a book-keeper’s desk to join -the army. Impulsiveness and vacillation are not wholly bad things at -eighteen; but at thirty they are ridiculous. - -Poe’s abuse of liquor and opium has long been well understood, and -the question of his responsibility handed over to the decision of the -medical faculty. If many of his troubles sprang from this abuse, many -more arose out of his unwillingness to recognize the fact that he was -a part of society, not an isolated and self-sufficient being. As a -genius he was entitled to his prerogative. He was also a man among men -and under the same obligations to continued fair dealing, courtesy, -patience, and forbearance as were his fellows. In these matters he was -notoriously deficient. No one could have been more eager for praise -and sympathy than Poe. He asked for both and received in the measure -of his asking. Men of influence helped him ungrudgingly. They lent him -money, commended his work, defended him at first from the criticism -of those who thought they had suffered at his hands; but it was to no -purpose. By his perversity and capriciousness (as also by an occasional -display of that which in a less highly endowed man than he would have -been called malevolence) Poe alienated those who were most inclined to -befriend him. Nevertheless he wondered that friends fell away. - -With a powerful mind, a towering imagination, a natural command of the -technical part of literature, which he improved by tireless exercise, -and with no little spontaneity of productive energy, Poe remained a boy -in character, self-willed, spoiled, ungrateful, petulant. The sharper -the lash of fortune’s whip on his shoulders, the more rebellious he -became. - -The affair of the Boston Lyceum illustrates Poe’s singular disregard -of what is expected of men supposed to know the ways of the world. A -Southern paper commenting on this affair said that Poe should not have -gone to Boston. The implication was that as Poe had been attacking the -New Englanders for years he could not expect fair treatment. Poe had -indeed often attacked the ‘Frogpondians,’ as he enjoyed calling them, -and they invited him to come and read an original poem on an occasion -of some local importance. This may have been a mark of innocence on the -part of the ‘Frogpondians;’ it can hardly be construed as indicative -of narrowness or prejudice. Poe accepted their hospitality apparently -in the spirit in which it was offered, read one of his old poems, -and declared afterward that he wrote it before completing his tenth -year, and that he considered it would answer sufficiently well for -an audience of Transcendentalists: ‘It was the best we had--for the -price--and it _did_ answer remarkably well.’ - -The episode is of no importance save as it illustrates Poe’s attitude -towards the game of life. Poe expected other men to play the game -strictly according to the rules, for himself he would play the game -in his own way. And he did. But he could not go on breaking the rules -indefinitely. They who had his real interest at heart told him as much. -Simms, the novelist, wrote Poe in July, 1846, that he deeply deplored -his misfortunes--‘the more so as I see no process for your relief but -such as must result from your own decision and resolve.’ The letter -should be read in its entirety. It does honor to the writer’s manly -nature, and it throws no little light on the enigmatic character of Poe. - - -III - -THE PROSE WRITER - -Poe’s genius was essentially journalistic. In his prose writing he -aimed at an immediate effect, and he knew exactly how to produce it. -The journalist does not in general write with a view to the influence -his paragraph will produce week after next. The paper will have -disappeared week after next, if not day after to-morrow. Though his -theme be the eternal verities, the journalist must write as if he had -but the one chance to speak on that subject. He will therefore be -direct, positive, clear, seeking to persuade, convince, irritate, amuse. - -The most obvious characteristics of Poe’s style are found in his -clarity, his vividness, his precision, in the dense shadows and the -high lights, in the hundred unnamed but distinctly felt marks of the -journalistic style. Whatever he proposes to do, that he does. There is -no fumbling. Even his mysteries are as certain as the stage effects in -a spectacular drama; they seem to come at the turning of an electric -switch or the inserting of a blue glass before the lime light. In -reality the process is much more complicated. Other magicians have -essayed to produce like effects by turning the same switch, with -disastrous result. - -Poe was a diligent seeker after literary finish. He was painstaking, -and would polish and retouch a paragraph when to the eye of a good -judge there was nothing left to do by way of improvement. ‘He seemed -never to regard a story as finished.’[26] - -He was over emphatic at times, and like De Quincey, many of whose -irritating mannerisms he had caught, made a childish use of italics. -But he had no need of these adventitious supports. It was enough for -him to state a thing in his inimitable manner. While his vocabulary was -for the most part simple, he was not without his verbal affectations. -He loved words surcharged with poetic suggestion. A lamp never hangs -from the ceiling, it ‘depends.’ One of his favorite words is ‘domain.’ -The black ‘tarn’ which mirrors the house of Usher he could have called -by no other term. ‘Lake,’ or ‘pond,’ or ‘pool’ would not have done. The -word must be remote, suggestive, mysterious. - -His style often glows with prismatic colors, but the colors seem to be -refracted from ice. There is no warmth, no sweetness, no lovable and -human quality. All the pronounced characteristics of Poe’s style are -intensely and coldly intellectual. It is easier to admire his use of -language than to like it. - - -IV - -_TALES OF THE GROTESQUE AND ARABESQUE_ - -By virtue of his journalistic gift, Poe resembled the author of -_Robinson Crusoe_. He could not, like Defoe, have become general -literary purveyor to the people, but he was quite ready to profit by -what was uppermost in the public mind. _The Narrative of Arthur Gordon -Pym_ is an illustration, as it is also a good example of Poe’s art in -its most mundane form. It recounts the adventures of a runaway lad at -sea. Mutiny, drunkenness, brawling, murder, shipwreck, cannibalism, -madness, are the chief ingredients of the book. It is minute, -circumstantial, prolix, matter of fact. The air of verisimilitude is -increased by an alternation of episodes of thrilling interest with -tedious accounts of how a cargo should be stowed, and the object -and method of bringing a ship to. Only at rare intervals does Poe’s -peculiar genius flash out. - -As the longest of his writings the _Narrative_ has a peculiar value. By -it we are able to get some notion of his power for ‘sustained effort,’ -to use a phrase that always irritated him. That power was certainly -not great; perhaps it was never fairly tested. _The Journal of Julius -Rodman_ is a second attempt at the same kind of fiction. Poe was less -happy in descriptions of the prairie than of the sea; the interest of -the _Journal_ is feeble. - -In these fictions the author holds fast to tangible things. Pym and -Rodman might have had the adventures they recount. In another group of -stories Poe leavens fact with imagination. Such are ‘The Balloon Hoax,’ -‘The Unparalleled Adventure of one Hans Pfaall,’ ‘A Descent into the -Maelström,’ and the ‘MS. Found in a Bottle.’ Real or alleged science -is compounded with the elements of wonder and mystery. And with these -elements comes an increase of power. - -Poe, who was never backward in giving himself the credit he thought -his due, often failed to understand where his own most marvellous -achievements lay. In ‘Hans Pfaall’ he claimed originality in the -use of scientific data. Had his stories only this to recommend them, -they would long since have been forgotten. Nothing so quickly becomes -old-fashioned as popular science. The display of knowledge about aerial -navigation in ‘Hans Pfaall’ perhaps made a brave show in 1836, but it -is childish now. A Hans Pfaall of the Twentieth Century would descend -on Rotterdam in a dirigible balloon, and if questioned would be found -to entertain enlightened views on storage batteries. Poe talked glibly -about sines and cosines and brought noisy charges of astronomical -ignorance against his brother writers, but it was not in these things -that his genius displayed itself, it was rather in the way this -wonder-worker makes one aware of the illimitable stretches of space, -the appalling vastness, the silence, the mystery, terror, and majesty -of Nature. He is the clever craftsman in his account of how the Dutch -bellows-mender started on his aerial travels. But when in two or three -paragraphs Poe conveys a sense of height so terrific that the plain -fireside reader, indisposed to balloon ascensions, grasps the arms of -his chair and clings to the floor with the toes of his slippers lest -he fall--then does he display a power with which popular science has -nothing to do. - -This is true of ‘A Descent into the Maelström.’ What scientific fact -went into the composition of the piece appears to have been taken from -the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, but the valuable part, the sense of -life and movement, the crash of the storm, the roar of the waves, the -shriek of the vortex, like the cry of lost souls, all this is not to be -found in encyclopædias. The story can be read any number of times and -its magical power felt afresh each time. But the first reading cannot -be described by so tame a phrase as a literary pleasure, it is an -experience. - -Another masterpiece is the ‘MS. Found in a Bottle.’ The din of the -storm is not easily got out of one’s ears. With the unnamed hero of the -tale we ‘stand aghast at the warring of wind and ocean’ and are chilled -by the ‘stupendous ramparts of ice, towering away, into the desolate -sky.’ - -In another group of stories, ‘The Gold-Bug,’ the gruesome ‘Murders -in the Rue Morgue,’ ‘The Mystery of Marie Rogêt,’ and ‘The Purloined -Letter,’ the author fabricates mysteries for the express purpose of -unravelling them afterwards. Poe, who seldom attempts the creation of a -character, actually created one in the person of his famous detective. -Dupin is a living being in a world peopled for the most part with -shadows. - -Poe professed not to think much of his detective stories. The -‘ratiocinative’ tale is not a high order of literary achievement. Poe -shares the honors accruing from the invention of such puzzles with -Wilkie Collins, Gaboriau, and the ‘great ‘Boisgobey,’ and they in turn -with the most sensational of sensation mongers. - -‘The Gold-Bug’ afforded the author a vehicle for giving expression -to his delight in cryptography, at the same time he availed himself -of the perennial human interest in the prospect of unearthing buried -treasure. ‘The Mystery of Marie Rogêt’ was based on a contemporary -murder case. It contains a minimum of that in which Poe often revelled, -namely physical horror, and a maximum of the ratiocinative element. -‘The Purloined Letter’ is in lighter vein, and illustrates the comedy -side of Dupin’s adventures. Chevalier and minister cross swords with -admirable grace, but no blood is drawn. - -The masterpiece of the group is ‘The Murders in the Rue Morgue.’ -Genuinely original, blood-curdling, the story depends for its real -force not on the ingenious unravelling of a frightful mystery, but on -the sense of nameless horror which creeps over us as little by little -the outré character of the tragedy is disclosed. We realize that in -the dread event of being murdered one might have a choice as to how it -was done. The predestined victim might even pray to die by the hands -of a plain God-fearing assassin and not after the manner of Madame -L’Espanaye. - -Of the stories classified as tales of conscience, ‘William Wilson,’ -‘The Man of the Crowd,’ ‘The Imp of the Perverse,’ ‘The Tell-Tale -Heart,’ and ‘The Black Cat,’ the first is not only the best, but -is also one of the best of all stories in that genre. The image of -bodily corruption is not present and the interest is held by perfectly -legitimate means. ‘The Black Cat’ is a fearful and repulsive piece, -and at the same time characteristic. Poe hesitated at nothing when it -came to working out his theme. He who had such absolute control of the -materials of his art too seldom practised reticence in exhibiting the -gruesome details of a scene of cruelty. - -‘The Fall of the House of Usher’ is a representative story, if not -absolutely the best illustration of Poe’s genius. The motive of -premature burial haunts him here as often elsewhere. But the emphasis -of this tragedy of a race is laid where it belongs, in the terror of -the thought of approaching madness. Poe wrote many stories which can be -described each as the fifth act of a tragedy. It may be doubted whether -he surpassed ‘The Fall of the House of Usher.’ - -‘Berenice,’ ‘Ligeia,’ and ‘Morella’ are highly successful experiments -in the realm of the morbidly imaginative, and might be grouped -under Browning’s discarded title of ‘Madhouse Cells.’ The themes -are monstrous, and are only saved from being absurd by the author’s -consummate ability to carry the reader with him. Poe could scale a -fearful and slippery height, maintaining himself with the slenderest -excuse for a foot-hold. A dozen times you would say he must fall, and -a dozen times he passes the perilous point with masterly ease. In the -hands of a lesser artist than he, how utterly absurd would be a scene -like that in ‘Ligeia’ where the opium-eater watches by the bedside of -his dead wife. - -‘Metzengerstein’ and ‘A Tale of the Ragged Mountains’ are stories -of metempsychosis. ‘The Cask of Amontillado’ and ‘Hop-Frog’ turn on -the motive of revenge. ‘The Pit and the Pendulum,’ an episode of the -Inquisition, is a study of the preternatural acuteness of the mind -while the body undergoes torture. ‘The Assignation’ is a Venetian tale -of love and intrigue, and would have been conventional enough in the -hands of any one but Poe. The most powerful story in the group is ‘The -Red Death,’ a lurid drama of revelry in the midst of pestilence. - -Difficult as are the themes, and skilful as is the handling, these -tales are in a way surpassed by the extraordinary group of romances in -which Poe describes the meeting of disembodied spirits. ‘The Power of -Words,’ ‘The Colloquy of Monos and Una,’ and ‘The Conversation of Eiros -and Charmion’ are excursions into a world unknown to the rank and file -of literary explorers, a world where the most adventurous might well -question his ability to penetrate far. In these supermundane pieces, in -the prose-poems ‘Silence’ and ‘Shadow,’ in ‘Ligeia,’ and in ‘The Domain -of Arnheim,’ Poe’s art is indeed magical. - -Poe seems to have been fully persuaded in his own mind that he had -the gift of humor. The extravaganzas and farcical pieces bulk rather -large in his collected writings. In too many of them the author cuts -extraordinary mental capers in the most mirthless way. ‘The Literary -Life of Thingum Bob, Esq.,’ ‘How to write a Blackwood Article’ and its -sequel, ‘A Predicament,’ satires all on the ways of editors and men -of letters, are examples of Poe’s manner as a humorist. The rattling -monologue and dry, hard, uncontagious laughter of a music-hall comedian -is the nearest parallel. The effect is wholly disproportionate to the -bewildering activity of the performer. - -In farces like ‘The Spectacles,’ ‘Loss of Breath,’ and ‘The Man that -was Used up,’ the motives would be revolting were not the characters -manifestly constructed of wood or papier-maché. The figures are neither -more nor less than marionettes. If Madame Stephanie Lalande (aged -eighty-one) dashes her wig on the ground with a yell and dances a -fandango upon it, ‘in an absolute ecstasy and agony of rage,’ it is -what may be expected in a pantomime. Whoever wishes to laugh at the -hero of the Bugaboo and Kickapoo campaign, when he is discovered sans -scalp, sans palate, sans arm, leg, and shoulders, is at liberty to do -so, but he must laugh as do children when Punch beats his wife. - -There is no question of the vivacity displayed in these pieces. -‘Bon-Bon,’ ‘The Duc de l’Omelette,’ ‘Lionizing,’ ‘Never bet the Devil -your Head,’ ‘X-ing a Paragrab,’ ‘Diddling Considered as one of the -Exact Sciences,’ ‘The Business Man,’ and ‘The Angel of the Odd’ are -sprightly with an uncanny sprightliness. It must always be a matter for -astonishment that Poe could have written them. The mystery of their -being read is explained by the taste of the times. - -On the other hand, ‘The Devil in the Belfry’ is genuinely amusing. The -description of the peaceful estate of the pleasant Dutch toy village -of Vondervotteimitiss, where the very pigs wore repeaters tied to -their tails with ribbons, and the sad story of the destruction of all -order and regularity by the advent of the foreign-looking young man -in black kerseymere knee-breeches, are most agreeably set forth. This -extravaganza is not only the best of Poe’s humorous sketches, but ranks -with the work of men who were better equipped and more gifted in such -work than was Poe. - - -V - -THE CRITIC - -Poe brought into American criticism a pungency which it had hitherto -lacked. He was entirely independent, and had urbanity companioned -independence the value of his critical work would have been greatly -augmented. He could praise with warmth and condemn with asperity; -he could not maintain an even temper. Swayed by his likes and his -dislikes, he was but too apt to grow extravagantly commendatory -or else spiteful. ‘He had the judicial mind but was rarely in the -judicial state of mind.’[27] He was not unwilling to give pain, and -easily persuaded himself that he did so in a just cause. There was a -pleasurable sense of power in the consciousness of being feared. Yet -the pleasure thus derived can never be other than ignoble. A man of -Poe’s genius can ill afford to waste his time in attacking other men -of genius whose conceptions of literary art differ from his own. Still -less can he afford to assail the swarm of petty authors whose works -will perish the sooner for being let alone. Of all harmless creatures -authors are the most harmless and should be allowed to live their -innocent little lives. But Poe took literature hard, and authors had a -disquieting effect on him. - -Accused of ‘mangling by wholesale,’ Poe denied the charge, declaring -that among the many critiques he had written during a given period of -ten years not one was ‘wholly fault-finding or wholly in approbation.’ -And he maintained that to every opinion expressed he had attempted -to give weight ‘by something that bore the semblance of a reason.’ -Is there another writer in the land who ‘can of his own criticisms -conscientiously say the same’? Poe prided himself on an honesty of -motive such as animated Wilson and Macaulay. He denied that his course -was unpopular, pointing to the fact that during his editorship of -the ‘Messenger’ and ‘Graham’s’ the circulation of the one had risen -from seven hundred to five thousand, and of the other ‘from five to -fifty-two thousand subscribers.’ ‘Even the manifest injustice of a -Gifford is, I grieve to say, an exceedingly popular thing.’[28] - -Poe’s critical writings take the form of reviews of books -(‘Longfellow’s Ballads,’ ‘Moore’s “Alciphron,”’ ‘Horne’s “Orion,”’ -‘Miss Barrett’s “A Drama of Exile,”’ ‘Hawthorne’s Tales,’ etc.), -polemical writings (‘A Reply to “Outis”’), essays on the theory of -literary art (‘The Poetic Principle,’ ‘The Rationale of Verse’), brief -notes (‘Marginalia’), and short and snappy articles on contemporary -writers (‘The Literati’). - -His theory of literary art may be studied in the lecture entitled ‘The -Poetic Principle,’ where he maintains that there is no such thing -as a long poem, the very phrase being ‘a contradiction of terms.’ A -poem deserves its title ‘only inasmuch as it excites by elevating the -soul.’ This excitement is transient. When it ceases, that which is -written ceases to be poetical. Poe even sets the precise limit of the -excitement--‘half an hour at the very utmost.’ - -He then attacks ‘the heresy of The Didactic,’ protesting against the -doctrine that every poem should contain a moral and the poetical merit -estimated by the moral. ‘The incitements of Passion, or the precepts of -Duty, or even the lessons of Truth, may be introduced into a poem with -advantage, but the true artist will always contrive to tone them down -in proper subjection to that Beauty which is the atmosphere and the -real essence of the poem.’ - -Poe then proceeds to his definition of the ‘poetry of words,’ which -is, he says, ‘_The Rhythmical Creation of Beauty_.’ Its sole arbiter -is Taste. ‘With the Intellect, or with the Conscience, it has only -collateral relations. Unless incidentally, it has no concern whatever -either with Duty or with Truth.’ - -In his concrete criticism Poe never hesitated to prophesy. ‘I most -heartily congratulate you upon having accomplished a work which will -_live_,’ he wrote to Mrs. E. A. Lewis. Of some poem of Longfellow’s he -said that it would ‘not live.’ Possibly he was right in both cases, but -how could he know? Here is shown the weakness of Poe’s critical temper. -He affirmed positively that which cannot positively be affirmed. - -He was a monomaniac on plagiarism, forever raising the cry of ‘Stop -thief.’ Yet Poe, like Molière, whom he resembled in no other -particular, ‘took his own’ whenever it pleased him to do so, and he was -not over solicitous to advertise his sources. He was in the right. If -poets advertised their sources, what would be left for the commentators -to do? Poe hinted that Hawthorne appropriated his ideas, and he -flatly accused Longfellow of so doing. He was punished grotesquely, -for Chivers, the author of _Eonchs of Ruby_, accused Poe (after the -latter’s death, when it was quite safe to do so) of getting many of his -best ideas from Chivers. - - -VI - -THE POET - -Poe’s claim to mastership in verse rests on a handful of lyrics -distinguished for exquisite melody and a haunting beauty of phrase. -That part of the public which estimates a poet by such pieces as find -their way into anthologies regards Poe primarily as the author of ‘The -Bells’ and ‘The Raven.’ If popularity were the final test of merit, -these strikingly original performances would indeed crown his work. -After sixty years, neither has lost in appreciable degree the magical -charm it exerted when first the weird melody fell upon the ear. Each -is hackneyed beyond description; each has been parodied unmercifully, -murdered by raw elocutionists, and worse than murdered by generations -of school-children droning from their readers, about the ‘midnight -dreary’ and the ‘Runic rhyme.’ But it is yet possible to restore in a -measure the feeling of astonished delight with which lovers of poetry -greeted the advent of these studies in the musical power of words. - -The practical and earnest soul will find little to comfort him in the -poetry of Poe. It teaches nothing, emphasizes no moral, never inspires -to action. The strange unearthly melodies must be enjoyed for the -reason that they are strange and unearthly and melodious. The genius of -the poet has travelled - - By a route obscure and lonely, - Haunted by ill angels only, - Where an Eidolon, named Night, - On a black throne reigns upright, - -and we can well believe that it comes - - From an ultimate dim Thule,-- - From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime, - Out of Space--out of Time. - -Wholly out of space and time was he who wrote ‘Dreamland,’ ‘The City -in the Sea,’ ‘The Haunted Palace,’ ‘Israfel,’ ‘The Sleeper,’ and -‘Ulalume.’ It is idle to ask of these poems something they do not -pretend to give, and it can hardly be other than uncritical to describe -them as ‘very superficial.’ They are strange exotic flowers blooming -under conditions the most adverse, a fresh proof that genius is -independent of place and time. - - * * * * * - -In Poe’s work as a whole there is unquestionably too much of brooding -over death, the grave, mere physical horrors. Since his genius lay that -way, he must be accepted as he was. But it is permitted to regret, if -not the thing in itself (the domain of art being wide), at least the -excess. Poe speaks of certain themes which are ‘too entirely horrible -for the purposes of legitimate fiction. These the mere romanticist must -eschew, if he do not wish to offend or to disgust.’ And having laid -down this doctrine, Poe goes on to relate the story of ‘The Premature -Burial.’ It turns out a vision. But the narrator affirms that he was -cured by the experience, that he read no more ‘bugaboo tales--_such as -this_. In short I became a new man and lived a man’s life.’ Without -assuming that Poe spoke wholly from the autobiographical point of view, -we may believe the passage to contain a measure of his actual thought. - -We may claim for him a more important place in our literature than do -his radical admirers whose fervent eulogy too often takes the form -of the contention that Poe was greater than this or that American -man of letters. His strong, sombre genius saved the literature from -any danger of uniformity, relieved it at once and forever from the -possible charge of colorlessness. That strangeness of flavor which a -late distinguished critic notes as a mark of genius is imparted by -Poe’s work to our literary product as a whole. Here indeed was ‘the -blossoming of the aloe.’ - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [25] ‘... There is one thing I am anxious to caution you against, - & which has been a great enemy to our family, I hope, - however, in yr case, it may prove unnecessary, “A too free - use of the Bottle” ...’ William Poe to E. A. Poe, 15th June, - 1843. Harrison’s _Poe_, vol. ii, p. 143. - - [26] G. E. Woodberry. - - [27] E. C. Stedman. - - [28] ‘Reply to “Outis.”’ - - - - -VIII - -_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =Samuel Longfellow=: _Life of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_, second - edition, 1886, and _Final Memorials of ... Longfellow_, 1887. - - =W. D. Howells=: _Literary Friends and Acquaintance_, 1900. - - =G. R. Carpenter=: _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_, ‘Beacon - Biographies,’ 1901. - - =T. W. Higginson=: _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_, ‘American Men of - Letters,’ 1902. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -The Longfellows are descendants of William Longfellow of Horsforth -in Yorkshire, who came to New England ‘about 1676,’ settled in -Newbury, and married Anne Sewall, a sister of Samuel Sewall, the first -chief-justice of Massachusetts. ‘Well educated but a little wild’ -is one of several illuminating phrases used to describe this young -Yorkshireman. He joined the expedition against Quebec under Sir William -Phipps (1690) and perished in a wreck on the coast of Anticosti. -One of his sons, Stephen, a blacksmith, had a son who was graduated -at Harvard, became a schoolmaster in Falmouth (Portland), and held -important offices in the town government. His son, the third Stephen, -grandfather of the poet, was judge of the court of common pleas, and -representative of his town in the legislature. - -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was born at Portland, in the District -of Maine, on February 27, 1807. He was the second son of Stephen -Longfellow, a prominent lawyer, conspicuous in political life, a member -of the Massachusetts legislature, and afterwards, when Maine acquired -statehood, a representative for his state in Congress. The mother of -the poet, Zilpah (Wadsworth) Longfellow, was a daughter of General -Peleg Wadsworth, whose adventures during the Revolution bordered on -the romantic. Through the Wadsworths the poet was a descendant of John -Alden and Priscilla Mullens. - -At the age of thirteen Longfellow printed in the Portland ‘Gazette’ -his boyish rhymes on ‘The Battle of Lovell’s Pond.’ He studied at -private schools and at the Portland Academy, entered Bowdoin College, -Brunswick, Maine, in the Sophomore year, and was graduated in 1825, the -fourth in a class of thirty-eight. That he stood so high seemed to him -‘rather a mystery.’ Before leaving college he had begun contributing -to the ‘United States Literary Gazette,’ a new bi-monthly, published -in Boston and edited by Theophilus Parsons. In one year seventeen of -his poems appeared in the ‘Gazette,’ for which payment was made at the -rate of two dollars a column. Five of these early poems were reprinted -in _Voices of the Night_. - -At the Commencement of 1825 the trustees of Bowdoin had determined to -establish a professorship of modern languages. The chair was promised -Longfellow when he should have fitted himself for it by study abroad. -He sailed from New York in May, 1826, provided by George Ticknor with -letters of introduction to Irving, Eichhorn, and Southey. He travelled -in France, Spain, Italy, and Germany, mastered the Romance languages, -planned certain prose volumes, and announced to his sister Elizabeth -that his poetic career was finished. In August, 1829, he was back in -America. - -His appointment being confirmed and the stipend fixed at eight hundred -dollars (together with another hundred for services as college -librarian), Longfellow entered on his duties. During the next five and -a half years he corrected bad French and Italian exercises, heard worse -viva voce translations, in brief, was a pedagogue in all homely and -trying senses of the word. With any one save a born drill-master the -class-room soon loses novelty. In spite of the knowledge that he was -useful in a chosen field of work, more than happy in his home-life (he -had married, in 1831, Miss Mary Storer Potter of Portland), Longfellow -felt the narrowness of his surroundings. Bowdoin was a little college -and Brunswick a village. The young professor was ambitious. In his own -phrase, he wanted a stage on which he could ‘take longer strides and -speak to a larger audience.’ At one time he thought of buying the Round -Hill School, and visited Northampton to look over the ground. Fortune -had something better in store for him. Ticknor was about to resign the -chair of modern languages at Harvard, and proposed as his successor -Longfellow, whose translation of the _Coplas_ of Manrique (1833) had -attracted his notice. The position was formally offered and accepted; -it was understood that Longfellow was to spend a year and a half in -Europe before taking up his work. - -Accompanied by his young wife, Longfellow crossed the ocean in April, -1835, and passed the summer in Stockholm and Copenhagen, studying -the Scandinavian languages. In the autumn he was in Holland. Mrs. -Longfellow died the last of November. Longfellow went to Heidelberg for -the winter, and to Switzerland and the Tyrol for the spring and summer, -and in December (1836) was at Cambridge preparing his college lectures. - -He lodged at the famous colonial mansion in Brattle Street known -as Craigie House, in a room that had once been Washington’s. When -Longfellow first applied, old Mrs. Craigie, deceived by his youthful -appearance, told him that she had ‘resolved to take no more students -into the house.’ Craigie House passed into the possession of Worcester, -the lexicographer. Worcester sold it to Nathan Appleton, whose daughter -Longfellow married in 1843. It then became the property of Mrs. -Longfellow. - -At Harvard the exactions of work were not like those in the smaller -college, strictly pedagogical. Longfellow had time for literature -and for society. The years were richly productive, as the following -bibliographical lists show. - -_Outre-Mer, A Pilgrimage beyond the Sea_, 1835; _Hyperion, a Romance_, -1839; _Voices of the Night_, 1839; _Ballads and Other Poems_, 1842; -_Poems on Slavery_, 1842; _The Spanish Student_, 1843; _The Waif, a -Collection of Poems_, 1845 (edited); _The Poets and Poetry of Europe_, -1845 (edited); _The Belfry of Bruges and Other Poems_, 1846; _The -Estray, a Collection of Poems_, 1847 (edited); _Evangeline, a Tale -of Acadie_, 1847; _Kavanagh, a Tale_, 1849; _The Seaside and the -Fireside_, 1850; _The Golden Legend_, 1851; _The Song of Hiawatha_, -1855. - -After eighteen years of service at Harvard, Longfellow, in 1855, -resigned his professorship, handing over its responsibilities to a -worthy successor, James Russell Lowell. Released from academic duties, -he was able to give himself unreservedly to literary work. Even in -these new conditions he enjoyed less freedom than would be supposed. -Longfellow had become a world-famous poet and was compelled to pay -in full measure the penalties of fame. The demands on his time were -enormous. As his reputation increased there was a proportionate -increase in the army of visitors which besieged his door. The uniform -kindness of their reception encouraged hundreds more to come. - -The beautiful serenity of Longfellow’s domestic life was broken in upon -by a frightful tragedy. One July morning in 1861 Mrs. Longfellow’s -dress caught fire from a lighted match. It was impossible to save her, -and she died the following day. The poet never recovered from the shock -of her death. How crushing the blow was may be faintly conceived from -that poem, ‘The Cross of Snow,’ found among his papers after his death. - -During the last quarter century of his life Longfellow published the -following books: _The Courtship of Miles Standish_, 1858; _Tales -of a Wayside Inn_, 1863; _Flower-de-Luce_, 1867; _The New England -Tragedies_, 1868; _Dante’s Divine Comedy, a Translation_,[29] 1867–70; -_The Divine Tragedy_, 1871; _Christus, a Mystery_, 1872;[30] _Three -Books of Song_, 1872; _Aftermath_, 1873; _The Masque of Pandora_, and -_Other Poems_, 1875; _Poems of Places_, 1876–79 (edited); _Kéramos and -Other Poems_, 1878; _Ultima Thule_, 1880. The posthumous volumes were -_In the Harbor_, 1882, and _Michael Angelo_, 1884. - -All the customary honors with which literary achievement may be -recognized were bestowed on Longfellow. Some were formal and academic, -scholastic tributes to scholastic achievement. Others were spontaneous -and popular, an expression of the heart. Two illustrations will suffice -to show the range of the poet’s influence. In 1869, during Longfellow’s -last journey in Europe, the degree of D. C. L. was conferred on him by -the University of Oxford. In 1879, when the tree which overhung ‘the -village smithy’ was felled, an armchair was made of the wood, and given -to the poet by the school-children of Cambridge. Both these tributes -were necessary. Each is the complement of the other. Taken together, -they symbolize the characteristics of the man and the artist. - -Of all American poets Longfellow reached the widest audience. And it -was with a feeling of personal bereavement that every member of that -vast audience heard the news of his death at Cambridge, on March 24, -1882. - - -II - -LONGFELLOW’S CHARACTER - -As a young man Longfellow was pretty much like other young men, fond -of society and fond of dress. At Cambridge the sober-minded were a -little disturbed by the brilliancy of his waistcoats. In the Thirties -it was permitted men, if they would, to array themselves like birds of -paradise. Longfellow appears in some degree to have availed himself -of the privilege. After a visit to Dickens in London in 1842 the -novelist wrote Longfellow that boot-maker, hosier, trousers-maker, and -coat-cutter had all been at the point of death. ‘The medical gentlemen -agreed that it was exhaustion occasioned by early rising--to wait upon -you at those unholy hours!’ An English visitor who saw Longfellow in -1850 thought him too fashionably dressed with his ‘blue frock-coat of -Parisian cut, a handsome waistcoat, faultless pantaloons, and primrose -colored “kids.”’ - -In middle age his social instinct was as strong as ever, but he cared -less for ‘society.’ He restricted himself to the companionship of his -friends, holding always in reserve time for his dependants, of whom he -had more than a fair share. - -Longfellow was large-hearted. He liked people if they were likable and -sympathized with them if they were unattractive or unfortunate. He was -open-handed, a liberal giver. Adventurers preyed upon him. He endured -them with patient strength. When their exactions became outrageous, -he made an effort to be rid of them. If unsuccessful, he laughed at -his own want of skill and resigned himself to be imposed on a little -longer. A weaker man would have sent these bores and parasites about -their business at once. - -Incapable of giving pain to any living creature, he could not -understand the temper which prompts another to do so. Fortunately the -violence or malignity of criticism had little effect on him. He could -even be amused by it. Of Margaret Fuller’s ‘furious onslaught’ on him -in the ‘New York Tribune,’ Longfellow said, ‘It is what ‘might be -called a bilious attack.’ - -He disliked publicity whether in the form of newspaper chronicle of -his doings or recognition in public places. He thought it absurd -that because Fechter had dined with him this unimportant item must -be telegraphed to Chicago and printed in the morning journals. Fond -as he was of the theatre, he sometimes hesitated to go because of -the interest his presence excited. It was thought extraordinary that -he was willing to read his poem ‘Morituri Salutamus’ at the fiftieth -anniversary of his class at Bowdoin. He was delighted when he found -he was to stand behind the old-fashioned high pulpit; ‘Let me cover -myself as much as possible. I wish it might be entirely.’ - -One trait of Longfellow’s character has been over-emphasized--his -gentleness. He was indeed gentle; but continual harping on that string -has created the impression that he was gentle rather than anything -else. In consequence we have a legendary Longfellow in whom all other -traits of character are subordinated to the one. His amiability, his -sense of justice, his entire freedom from selfishness and vanity, and -his genuine modesty, which led him even when he was right and his -neighbor wrong to avoid giving needless pain by intimating to the -neighbor how wrong he was--all contributed to hide the more forceful -and emphatic qualities. But the qualities were there. - -Nothing is easier than to multiply illustrations of this poet’s -gracious traits of character. Holmes epitomized all eulogy when he said -of Longfellow: ‘His life was so exceptionally sweet and musical that -any voice of praise sounds almost like a discord after it.’ - - -III - -THE POET - -Americans sometimes disturb themselves needlessly over the question -whether Longfellow was a great poet. It is absolutely of no importance -whether he was or was not. Of one thing they may be sure,--he was a -poet. Song was his natural vehicle of expression. He had a masterly -command of technical difficulties of his art. Language became pliant -under his touch. Taking into account the range of his metres, the -uniform precision with which he handled words, and the purity of his -style, Longfellow is eminent among American poetical masters. - -His sonnets are exquisite. His ballads, like ‘The Skeleton in Armor,’ -have no little of the fresh unstudied character which charms us in old -English ballad literature, a something not to be traced to the spirit -alone but to the technique as well. The twenty-two poems of ‘The Saga -of King Olaf’ show an almost extraordinary metrical power. - -It must also be remembered that Longfellow popularized for modern -readers the so-called English hexameter. _Evangeline_ was a metrical -triumph, considering it wholly aside from the innate beauty of the -story or the artistic handling of the incidents. The poet did not -foresee his success. In fact, as early as 1841, in the preface to his -translation of Tegnér’s _Children of the Lord’s Supper_, Longfellow -speaks of the ‘inexorable hexameter, in which, it must be confessed, -the motions of the English muse are not unlike those of a prisoner -dancing to the music of his chains.’ But here he was hampered by his -theory of translation, by his anxiety to render as literally as he -could the text of the original. When he took the matter into his own -hands and moulded the verse according to his own artistic sense, it -became another thing. Wholly aside from the pleasure _Evangeline_ has -given countless readers, it is something to have broken down prejudice -against the hexameter to the extent of drawing out an indirect -compliment from Matthew Arnold, whose self-restraint in the matter of -giving praise was notorious.[31] Scholars have by no means withdrawn -their opposition to the English hexameter. That a more liberal temper -prevails is largely due to Longfellow. - -_Evangeline_ had a stimulating effect on one English poet of rare -genius, Arthur Hugh Clough. A reading of the Tale of Acadie immediately -after a reperusal of the _Iliad_ led to the composition of _The Bothie -of Tober-na-Vuolich_.[32] - -Another of Longfellow’s triumphs was so great as to make it difficult -for any one to follow him. _Hiawatha_ succeeded both because of the -metre and in spite of it. Any one can master this self-writing jingle. -’Tis as easy as lying. One hardly knows how facile newspaper parodists -amused themselves before they got _Hiawatha_. Holmes explained the ease -of the measure on physiological grounds. We do not lisp in numbers, but -breathe in them. Did we but know it, we pass our lives in exhaling -four-foot rhymeless trochaics.[33] To write a poem in the metre of the -_Kalevala_ still remains, with all its specious fluency, an impossible -performance for any one not a poet. Thus Longfellow’s success had a -negative and restraining effect. He opened the field to whoever cared -to experiment with the hexameter, but closed it, for the present at -least, to any rhythmical inventions calculated however remotely to -suggest the metre of his Indian edda. - - -IV - -_OUTRE-MER, HYPERION, KAVANAGH_ - -The most popular of American poets first challenged public attention as -a writer of prose. _Outre-Mer_ is a group of pieces after the manner -of Irving. _Hyperion_ is a romance ‘in the old style,’ and shows the -influence of Jean Paul Richter. _Kavanagh_, published ten years after -_Hyperion_, is a novel. - -Neither of the first two books is marked by a buoyant Americanism. -_Outre-Mer_ does not, for example, suggest _A Tramp Abroad_, and -certainly Paul Flemming is no kinsman of ‘Harris.’ In other words, -Europe was as yet too remote to be made the subject of easy jest. Men -did not ‘run over’ to the Continent. The trip cost them dear in time -and money, and was not without the element of anticipated danger. -Travelling America was unsophisticated and viewed the Old World with -childlike curiosity. Foreign lands were transfigured in the romantic -haze through which they were seen. - -The chapters of _Outre-Mer_ were written by a man too intoxicated with -the charm of European life to be annoyed by the petty irritations that -worry hardened tourists. Rouen, Paris, Auteuil, Madrid, El Pardillo, -Rome in midsummer, afford the Pilgrim only delight. As in all books of -the kind there are interpolated stones, and in this book interpolated -literary essays. Every page betrays the student and the lover of -literature, who quotes Jeremy Taylor and Sir Thomas Browne at Père la -Chaise, James Howell at Venice, and Shakespeare everywhere. - -_Hyperion_ is steeped in sentiment--almost in sentimentality. Such a -book could only have been written when the heart was young. It is a -mistake, however, to read the volume as an autobiography; the author -objected to its being so read. More important than the love story are -the romantic descriptions of the Rhine and the Swiss Alps and the -golden atmosphere enveloping it all. Both these books have a common -object, namely, to interpret the Old World to the New. - -When _Outre-Mer_ was published an admirer said that the author of -_The Sketch Book_ must look to his laurels. The praise implied was -extravagant, but not groundless. Longfellow’s prose has a measure of -the sweetness and urbanity which we associate with Irving. Both writers -are classic in their serenity, and if highly artificial at times never -absurdly stilted. They often appear in old-fashioned dress, but they -wear the costume easily and it becomes them. The modern reader, with a -taste dulled by high seasoning, marvels how the grandparents could find -pleasure in _Hyperion_. It would be to the modern reader’s advantage -to forswear sack for a while and get himself into a condition to enjoy -what so greatly delighted the grandparents. - -Besides a group of literary essays (published in his collected works -under the title of ‘Driftwood’) Longfellow wrote a novel of New England -life, _Kavanagh_, which suffered by coming too soon after _Evangeline_. -It seems colorless when placed beside the romantic tale of Acadie. Yet -one can well afford to take time to learn of Mr. Pendexter’s griefs, -and incidentally to become acquainted with Billy Wilmerdings, who was -turned out of school for playing truant, and ‘promised his mother, if -she would not whip him, he would experience religion.’ Hawthorne was -enthusiastic over _Kavanagh_; he, however, disclosed the secret of its -unpopularity when he said to Longfellow: ‘Nobody but yourself would -dare to write so quiet a book.’ - - -V - -_VOICES OF THE NIGHT, BALLADS, SPANISH STUDENT, BELFRY OF BRUGES, THE -SEASIDE AND THE FIRESIDE_ - -Longfellow served the cause of his art in two ways: first, he was an -original poet, having a genius which, if not profound, or brilliant, -or massive, or bewilderingly fresh and new, was eminently poetical and -eminently attractive; second, he was an enthusiastic interpreter of the -poetry of other lands through the medium of trustworthy and graceful -translations. - -In _Voices of the Night_, his earliest volume of verse, the -translations, from Manrique, Lope de Vega, Dante, Charles d’Orléans, -Klopstock, and Uhland, outnumber the original pieces almost two to one. -Their characteristic is fidelity in spirit and letter. They illustrate -the genius of a poet who found pleasure in giving wider audience to the -work of men he loved, and who did his utmost to preserve the singular -qualities of these men. - -Longfellow’s second volume, _Ballads and Other Poems_, contains only -four translations, but one of them is Tegnér’s _Children of the Lord’s -Supper_, in three hundred and fifty hexameter verses. _The Belfry of -Bruges_ contains a handful of translations from the German, including -a lyric of Heine’s done in a way to cause regret that Longfellow did -not put more of the _Buch der Lieder_ into English. In _The Seaside and -the Fireside_ is given entire ‘The Blind Girl of Castèl Cuillè’ by the -barber-poet Jasmin. - -The translations bulk so large and are so plainly a labor of love that -it would seem as if Longfellow regarded such work an important part of -his poetic mission. At the present time there is no need to urge the -translator to ‘aggrandize his office.’ He does so cheerfully. Sometimes -it is done for him. Are we not told that Fitzgerald was a greater poet -than Omar Khayyám? In 1840 the office had not grown so great. - -This interpretative work by no means ended when Longfellow’s fame as a -creative poet was at its height and there was every incentive to build -for himself. When compiling (with Felton’s aid) the _Poets and Poetry -of Europe_ he translated many pieces for the volume. He gave years to -reproducing in English the majesty of Dante’s verse, counting himself -fortunate if his transcript, made in all reverence and love, approached -its great original. This disinterestedness in the exercise of his art -is so greatly to his honor that praise becomes impertinent. Catholic -in his attitude toward workers in the field of poesy, Longfellow -recognized the truth of the line - - Many the songs, but song is one. - -Longfellow’s early verse had all the requisites for popularity; it is -clear, melodious, simple in its lessons, tinged with sentiment and -melancholy, dashed with romantic color, and abounding in phrases which -catch the ear and pulsate in the brain. The poet voices the longings, -regrets, fears, aspirations, the restlessness, or the faith, which go -to make up the warp and woof of everyday life. An allegory, a moralized -legend, a song, a meditation, a ballad,--these are what we find in -turning the leaves of _Voices of the Night_ or the _Ballads_. Here -is a certain popular quality not to be attained by taking thought. -‘A Psalm of Life,’ ‘Flowers,’ ‘The Beleaguered City,’ ‘The Village -Blacksmith,’ ‘The Rainy Day,’ ‘Maidenhood,’ ‘Excelsior,’ ‘The Bridge,’ -‘The Day is Done,’ ‘Resignation,’ ‘The Builders,’ are a few among many -illustrations of the type of verse which carried Longfellow’s name into -every home where poetry is read. The range of emotions expressed is -of the simplest. There is feeling, but no thinking. The robust reader -who perchance has battened of late on sturdy diet, like _Fifine at the -Fair_, hardly knows what to make of these poems, so little resistance -do they offer to the mind. The meaning lies on the surface. But it -is no less true that their essence is poetical. The one thing never -lacking is the note of distinction. The human quality to be found in -such a poem as the ‘Footsteps of Angels’ almost overpowers the poetic -element. Nevertheless the poetry is there, and by virtue of this -Longfellow’s early work lives. - -Other poems show his scholar’s love for the past. They express the -natural longing felt by an inhabitant of a crude new land for countries -where romance lies thick because history is ancient. ‘The Belfry of -Bruges’ and ‘Nuremberg’ are examples. Moreover Longfellow’s ballads -have genuine quality. ‘The Skeleton in Armor’ illustrates his study of -Scandinavian literature. ‘The Wreck of the Hesperus’ is based on an -actual incident which came under his notice. The criticism reflecting -on this ballad because the poet had never seen the reef of Norman’s -Woe, is superfine. Longfellow was born and reared almost within a -stone’s throw of the Atlantic. His knowledge of the ocean began with -his first lessons in life. His sea poems are distinctive. ‘The Building -of the Ship,’ ‘The Fire of Driftwood,’ ‘Sir Humphrey Gilbert,’ ‘The -Secret of the Sea,’ ‘The Lighthouse,’ ‘Chrysaor,’ and ‘Seaweed,’ -whether or not they deserve the praise Henley gives them, will always -be accounted among Longfellow’s characteristic pieces. - -Two other works may be noted in this section: the _Poems on Slavery_ -and a play, _The Spanish Student_. The first of these, though academic, -shows how early Longfellow took his rank with the unpopular minority. -_The Spanish Student_, a play based on _La Gitanilla_ of Cervantes, was -written _con amore_, and ‘with a celerity of which I did not think -myself capable.’ Longfellow had great hopes of its success, though -he seems not to have been ambitious for a dramatic presentation. The -success was to come through the reader. _The Spanish Student_ shows -that Longfellow could have written good acting plays had he chosen -to submit to the irritations and rebuffs which are the inevitable -preliminary to dramatic good fortune. - - -VI - -_EVANGELINE, HIAWATHA, MILES STANDISH, TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN_ - -_Evangeline_ and _Hiawatha_ mark the climax of Longfellow’s -contemporary popularity and may be regarded as the principal bulwarks -of his fame. There is an anecdote to the effect that Hawthorne, to -whom the subject of Evangeline was proposed, was not attracted by it, -while Longfellow seized on it eagerly. Such was the divergence of their -genius. Longfellow’s mind always sought the fair uplands of thought, -checkered with alternate sunshine and shadow; it did not willingly -traverse deep ravines, gloomy and mysterious, or haunted groves such as -those about which Hawthorne’s spirit loved to keep. The instinct which -led the one poet to reject the narrative was as infallible as that -which led the other to appropriate it. - -The tale of Acadie is engrossing in its very nature, and whether told -in prose or verse must always invite, even chain, the attention. It -is dramatic without being melodramatic. The characters are not mere -‘persons’ of the drama, they are types. Evangeline will always stand -for something more than the figure of an unhappy Acadian girl bereft -of her lover. As Longfellow has painted her, she is the incarnation of -beauty, devotion, maidenly pride, self-abnegation. So too of the other -characters, Gabriel, old Basil, Benedict; each has that added strength -which a character conceived dramatically is bound to have if it shall -prove typical as well. - -Longfellow gave himself little anxiety about the historic difficulties -of the Acadian question. It was enough for him that these unhappy -people were carried away from their homes and that much misery ensued. -He painted the French Neutrals as a romancer must. Father Felician was -not sketched from the Abbé Le Loutre, nor was life in the actual Grand -Pré altogether idyllic. - -_Evangeline_ aroused interest in French-American history. For example, -Whewell wrote to Bancroft to say that he feared Longfellow had some -historical basis for the story and to ask for information. - -In the Plymouth idyl of the choleric little captain who believed -that the way to get a thing well done was to do it one’s self, and -who exemplified his theory by having his secretary make a proposal of -marriage for him, Longfellow made one of his most fortunate strokes. -_The Courtship of Miles Standish_ showed the poetic possibilities in -the harsh, dry annals of early colonial life. The wonder is that so few -adventurers have cared to follow the path indicated. - -Bound up with the story of Priscilla and John Alden is a handful of -poems to which Longfellow gave the collective title of ‘Birds of -Passage.’ Here are several fine examples of his art: ‘The Warden of -the Cinque-Ports,’ ‘Haunted Houses,’ ‘The Jewish Cemetery at Newport,’ -‘Oliver Basselin,’ ‘Victor Galbraith,’ ‘My Lost Youth,’ ‘The Discoverer -of the North Cape,’ and ‘Sandalphon.’ It is a question whether in -these eight poems we have not a small but well-nigh perfect Longfellow -anthology. Certainly no selection of his writings can pretend to be -characteristic which does not contain them. - -_Hiawatha_ was not intended for a poetic commentary on the manners -and customs of the North American Indians, though that impression -sometimes obtains. It is a free handling of Ojibway legends drawn from -Schoolcraft’s _Algic Researches_ and supplemented by other accounts of -Indian life. The grossness of the red man’s character, his cruelty, his -primitive views of cleanliness, are wisely kept in the background, -and his noble and picturesque qualities brought to the front. The -psychology is extremely simple. This Indian edda must be enjoyed for -its atmosphere of the forest, its childlike spirit, and its humor. -Hiawatha was a friend of animals (when he was not their enemy), and -understood them even better than writers of modern nature-books. One -does not need to be young again to enjoy the account of Hiawatha’s -fishing in company with his friend the squirrel. The sturgeon swallows -them both, and the squirrel helps Hiawatha get the canoe crossways in -the fish, a timely service in recognition of which (after both have -been rescued) he receives the honorable name of Tail-in-air. In fact, -the poem abounds in observations of animal life which as yet await the -sanction of John Burroughs. - -Taking a series of poems on the half-real, half-mythical King Olaf, -adding thereto a group of contrasting tales from Spanish, Italian, -Jewish, and American sources, assigning each narrative to an -appropriate character, binding the whole together with an Introduction, -Interludes, and a Conclusion, Longfellow produced the genial _Tales of -a Wayside Inn_. The device of the poem is old, but it can always be -given a new turn. Adapted to prose as well as verse, it may be used ‘in -little,’ as Hardy has done in _A Few Crusted Characters_, or in larger -form, as in _A Group of Noble Dames_. - -No secret was made of the fact that the ‘Wayside Inn’ was the ‘Red -Horse Inn’ of Sudbury, Massachusetts, or that the characters, the -Sicilian, the Poet, the Student, the Spanish Jew, the Musician, and the -Theologian, were real people, friends of Longfellow.[34] - -The reader who takes up _Tales of a Wayside Inn_ knows by instinct -that he may not look for the broad and leisurely treatment, the wealth -of beauty and harmony, which characterize _The Earthly Paradise_ of -Morris. That need not, however, prevent him from enjoying the _Tales_ -on quite sufficient grounds. The poems are often too brief; some -are mere anecdotes ‘finished just as they are fairly begun.’ We are -prepared for a more generous treatment. - -Though not written for that complex and formidable entity ‘the -child-mind,’ two poems in the collection, ‘Paul Revere’s Ride’ and -‘King Robert of Sicily,’ are beloved of school-children and dear to -the amateur elocutionist. The most original of the tales is ‘The Saga -of King Olaf,’ drawn from the _Heimskringla_, and appropriately put -into the lips of the Musician. It is a poem redolent of the sea and the -forest. The theme was congenial to Longfellow, who loved ‘the misty -world of the north, weird and wonderful.’ - -Prompted by the good fortune of _Tales of a Wayside Inn_, the poet was -led to make additions to it. A second part appeared in _Three Books of -Song_, a third part in _Aftermath_. With these fifteen additional tales -the three parts were then collected into a single volume. - - -VII - -_CHRISTUS, JUDAS MACCABÆUS, PANDORA, MICHAEL ANGELO_ - -As early as 1841 Longfellow had conceived the idea of an ‘elaborate -poem ... the theme of which would be the various aspects of Christendom -in the Apostolic, Middle, and Modern Ages.’ In 1851 _The Golden Legend_ -appeared, with no word to indicate that it was the second part of a -trilogy. Seventeen years more elapsed and _The New England Tragedies_ -came from the press, to be followed three years later by _The Divine -Tragedy_. The three parts were then arranged in chronological order and -the completed work given the title of _Christus, a Mystery_. - -One may guess why the first part of the trilogy was the last to -be published. A bard the most indubitably inspired might question -his power to meet the infinite requirements of so lofty a theme. -Longfellow’s _Divine Tragedy_ has received less than due meed of -praise. It has an austere beauty. If a reader can be moved by the -Scripture narrative, he can scarcely remain unmoved by this reverent -handling of the story of the Christ. Through many lines the poet -follows the Scriptural version almost to the letter, bending the text -only enough to throw it into metrical form. Often the dialogue seems -bald and the transitions abrupt because the poet allows himself the -least degree of liberty. This severity and repression in the treatment -are one source of that power which _The Divine Tragedy_ certainly has. - -Part two, _The Golden Legend_, is a retelling of the story of Prince -Henry of Hoheneck. Here, Longfellow reproduces with skill the light -and color of mediæval life, if not its darkness and diablerie. The -street-preaching, the miracle-play in the church, the revel of the -monks at Hirschau, and the lawless gayety of the pilgrims are all -painted with a clear and certain touch, but in colors almost too pale, -too delicate. Longfellow had not the courage or the taste to handle -these themes with the touch of almost brutal realism they seem to -require. - -The third part of the trilogy, _The New England Tragedies_, consists -of two plays, _John Endicott_ and _Giles Corey of the Salem Farms_, -one dealing with the persecution of the Quakers, the other with the -witchcraft delusion. The first is the better. Edith Christison’s -arraignment of Norton in the church, her trial, punishment, her return -to the colony at the risk of her life, and the release of the Quakers -by the king’s mandamus, followed by Endicott’s death, are vigorously -depicted. The character of the governor is finely drawn, and the -last scene between Bellingham and Endicott is a strong and moving -conception. As he bends over the dead man, Bellingham says:-- - - How placid and how quiet is his face, - Now that the struggle and the strife are ended! - Only the acrid spirit of the times - Corroded this true steel. Oh, rest in peace, - Courageous heart! Forever rest in peace! - -The companion play, _Giles Corey_, shows what has been already -observed, how little adapted Longfellow’s genius was for dealing with -psychological mysteries. He could understand the mental conditions and -sympathize with persecutors and victims, but he could not reproduce the -uncanny atmosphere enveloping the witchcraft tragedies. _Giles Corey_ -is a finished study of a theme which might have been developed into a -powerful play. It is profitable reading, yet if one would be carried -back into the horrors of that time he must go to Hawthorne’s ‘Young -Goodman Brown’ and not to _Giles Corey_. Poets are notorious for taking -liberties with the facts of history. But according to the late John -Fiske, the poetical conception of Cotton Mather as set forth in _The -New England Tragedies_ is much nearer truth than the popular conception -of the great Puritan minister based on the teachings of historians. - -The little five-act play, _Judas Maccabæus_, is a piece of careful -workmanship, like everything to which Longfellow put his hand, and the -scene between Antiochus and Máhala rises into passionate energy. _The -Masque of Pandora_ was more to Longfellow’s taste, and if it does not -satisfy the classical scholar, who is proverbially hard to please, -it remains an attractive setting of one of the most attractive of -mythological stories. - -The dramatic poem, _Michael Angelo_, though not usually accounted -Longfellow’s masterpiece, better deserves that rank than certain more -popular performances. Besides being a lovely example of his art, it is -the expression of his maturest thought. He kept it by him for years, -working on it with loving care, adding new scenes from time to time -and weighing critically the value of those already written. Finally he -put it to one side, and to show that he had not entirely carried out -his idea, the words ‘A Fragment’ were subjoined to the title. It was -published after his death. - -_Michael Angelo_ is not a play, but a series of dramatic incidents -from the life of the great sculptor, illustrating his character, his -thought, his work, his friendships. Many passages display a strength -not commonly associated with Longfellow’s poetic genius. Little is -wanting to the delineation of Michael Angelo to create the effect of -massiveness. From the first monologue where he sits in his studio, -musing over his picture of the ‘Last Judgment,’ to the midnight scene -where Vasari finds him working on the statue of the Dead Christ, the -effect is cumulative. The other characters are no less skilfully -wrought. Vittoria Colonna is a beautiful conception, lofty yet human. -Equally attractive with a more earthly loveliness is Julia Gonzaga, -her friend, she to whom one to-day was worth a thousand yesterdays. -Titian, Cellini, the Pope and his cardinals, Vasari, Sebastiano, the -old servant Urbino, and the aged monk at Monte Luca effectively sustain -the parts assigned them, and unite to bring into always stronger relief -the character of the unique genius whom Longfellow has made his central -figure. - - -VIII - -LAST WORKS - -The translation of Dante was a difficult task to which Longfellow gave -himself for years with something like consecration. It is satisfactory -or it is not, according to the point of view. He who holds that verse -can never be translated into verse, and that a poem suffers least -by being rendered in prose, will make no exception in Longfellow’s -case. On the other hand, the reader who is not, and who has neither -the opportunity nor the power to become a scholar in Italian, owes -Longfellow an inestimable debt of gratitude. The unpoetic accuracy of -which some complain counts for a virtue. The translation remains, with -all that can be said against it, the work of a poet. - -As age came on, Longfellow’s own verse, instead of losing in charm, -the rather increased. _Kéramos_, _Ultima Thule_, and _In the Harbor_ -contain many of his loveliest and most gracious poems. ‘Not to be -tuneless in old age’ was his happy fortune. - - * * * * * - -His skill in the sentimental, homely, and obviously moral has blinded -not a few readers to the larger aspects of Longfellow’s work. -One wearies, no doubt, of the ethical lesson that comes with the -inevitableness of fate. But there is no need of impatience, Longfellow -does not invariably preach. Besides, all tastes must be taken into -account. Many prefer the ethical lesson, unmistakably put. - -Had Longfellow been more rugged, and had he been content to end his -poems now and then with a question mark (figuratively speaking) instead -of a full stop, there would have been much talk about the ‘depth of -his meaning;’ and had he been frankly suggestive on tabooed topics, -we should have heard a world of chatter about ‘the largeness of his -view’ and the surprising degree in which he was in ‘advance of his -time.’ Doubtless he lacked brute strength. Whitman could have spared -him a little of his own surplus, and neither poet would have been -the worse for the transfer. Nevertheless Longfellow had abundance of -power exerted in his own way, which was not the way of the world. What -preposterous criticism is that of Frederic Harrison, who characterizes -_Evangeline_ as ‘goody-goody dribble’! - -Perhaps Longfellow should be most praised for his exquisite taste. He -was refined to the finger-tips, a gentleman not alone in every fibre of -his being but in every line of his work. The poet of the fireside and -the people was an aristocrat after all. Generations of culture seem to -be packed into his verses. In a country where so much is flamboyant, -boastful, restless, and crude, the influence of such a man is of the -loftiest and most benignant sort. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [29] The first volume was printed in 1865 and sent to Italy in - commemoration of the six hundredth anniversary of Dante’s - birth. - - [30] _The Divine Tragedy_, _The Golden Legend_, and _The New - England Tragedies_ reprinted in order as parts of a trilogy. - - [31] Lectures _On Translating Homer_. - - [32] _Prose Remains of Arthur Hugh Clough_, p. 40. - - [33] Holmes: _Pages from an Old Volume of Life_. - - [34] Luigi Monti, T. W. Parsons, H. W. Wales, Israel Edrehi, Ole - Bull, Daniel Treadwell. - - - - -IX - -_John Greenleaf Whittier_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =W. S. Kennedy=: _John Greenleaf Whittier, his Life, Genius, and - Writings_, 1882. - - =S. T. Pickard=: _Life and Letters of John Greenleaf Whittier_, - 1894. - - =Richard Burton=: _John Greenleaf Whittier_, ‘Beacon - Biographies,’ 1901. - - =T. W. Higginson=: _John Greenleaf Whittier_, ‘English Men of - Letters,’ 1902. - - =G. R. Carpenter=: _John Greenleaf Whittier_, ‘American Men of - Letters,’ 1903. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -John Greenleaf Whittier was born at East Haverhill, Massachusetts, on -December 17, 1807. His father, John Whittier, a farmer, was noted for -probity, sound judgment, and great physical strength. A man of few -words, he always spoke to the point, as when, in relation to public -charities with which he had officially to do, he said: ‘There are the -Lord’s poor and the Devil’s poor; there ought to be a distinction made -between them by the overseers of the poor.’ He had imperfect sympathy -with his son’s literary aspirations, but it were unjust to say that he -was wholly opposed to them. - -Whatever lack there may have been on this score was abundantly made -up to the youth by his beautiful and saintly mother. Abigail (Hussey) -Whittier was her husband’s junior by twenty-one years. From her the -poet inherited his brilliant black eyes, a physical trait (mistakenly) -supposed to have been derived from the old colonial minister, Stephen -Bachiler, that enterprising and turbulent spirit who came to America -at the age of seventy, founded cities, disputed the authority of the -clergy, and finally astonished friend and enemy alike by marrying for -the third time at the age of eighty-nine. - -Young Whittier was apparently destined to the toilsome life of his -farmer ancestors. He suffered under the ‘toughening process’ to which -New England country lads were formerly subjected, and became in -consequence a lifelong valetudinarian. - -With his frail physique and uncertain health the ‘Quaker Poet’ affords -a marked contrast, not alone to his own father, but to that mighty -ancestor Thomas Whittier, founder of the American family, who at -sixty-eight years of age was able to do his share in hewing the oak -timbers for a new house in which he proposed to pass his declining -days. The building was erected about 1688. Thomas Whittier enjoyed the -use of it until his death in 1696. Five generations of Whittiers were -harbored beneath its roof, and here the poet was born. Although not a -Quaker himself, Thomas Whittier was a friend of the Friends, and for -taking the part of certain unlicensed exhorters was for a time deprived -of his rights as a freeman. - -Whittier was early a reader and soon devoured the contents of his -father’s slender library. So insatiable was his thirst for books that -he would walk miles to borrow a volume of biography or travel. At the -age of fourteen he became fascinated with the poems of Burns, and under -their stimulus began to make rhymes himself.[35] On his first visit to -Boston he bought a copy of Shakespeare. Scott’s novels he borrowed, to -read them delightedly but with a troubled conscience. - -His poetic aspirations were encouraged by his elder sister, Mary, who, -without Whittier’s knowledge, sent the verses entitled ‘The Exile’s -Departure’ to the Newburyport ‘Free Press,’ a short-lived journal -edited by young William Lloyd Garrison. They appeared in the issue -of June 8, 1826. Whittier has described his emotions on first seeing -himself in print. The paper was thrown to him by the news-carrier. ‘My -uncle and I were mending fences. I took up the sheet, and was surprised -and overjoyed to see my lines in the “Poet’s Corner.” I stood gazing at -them in wonder, and my uncle had to call me several times to my work -before I could recover myself.’ - -Other poems were offered and accepted. Curious to see his contributor, -Garrison drove over from Newburyport to the Whittier farm. The bashful -country boy could with difficulty be persuaded to meet his guest. Then -began a lifelong friendship not uncheckered by differences without -which friendship itself lacks zest. - -Garrison urged on Whittier’s parents the importance of giving the -youth an education. Backed up by the influence of A. W. Thayer, editor -of the Haverhill ‘Gazette,’ who offered to take the lad into his own -home, Whittier got his father’s consent to his attending the newly -established Haverhill Academy. He paid for one term of six months by -making slippers, an art he learned from one of the farm hands, and for -another term by teaching school, which seemed to him a less enviable -mode of life than cobbling. - -The favor accorded his verse stimulated invention. During 1827–28 he -published, under assumed names, nearly a hundred poems in the Haverhill -‘Gazette’ alone. A plan for bringing out a collection of these fugitive -pieces under the title of _Poems of Adrian_ came, however, to nothing. - -Garrison, who had been doing editorial work in Boston for the Colliers, -publishers of ‘The Philanthropist’ and ‘The American Manufacturer,’ -advised their getting Whittier to take his place. Whittier edited the -‘Manufacturer’ from January to August, 1829, when he was summoned home -by the illness of his father. But he had had a taste of journalism and -politics, and relished both. From January to July, 1830, he edited -the Haverhill ‘Gazette.’ His newspaper work made him acquainted with -George Prentice of ‘The New England Review,’ published in Hartford. -When Prentice left Connecticut for Kentucky, where he was to spend six -months and write a campaign life of Henry Clay, he urged the owners -of the ‘Review’ to engage Whittier as his substitute. Whittier was -responsible for the conduct of the paper for a year and a half (July, -1830, to January, 1832). In spite of many drawbacks, his father’s -death, his own illness, a disappointment in love, the period of his -Hartford residence was the happiest and the most stimulating he had -yet known. He printed his first volume, _Legends of New England_, a -medley of prose and verse, edited _The Literary Remains of John G. C. -Brainard_ (the sketch of Brainard’s life prefixed to the volume throws -much light on Whittier’s reading), and brought out the narrative poem -_Moll Pitcher_, a story of the once famous ‘Lynn Pythoness.’ - -On his return to Haverhill he played his part in local politics -and was talked of for Congress. Somewhat later he was drawn into -the anti-slavery movement and for the next twenty-seven years this -was his life. He was a member of the legislature in 1835, and was -reëlected the next year; but in general terms it may be said that -in publishing _Justice and Expediency_, and in uniting himself with -the small, unpopular, and exasperating party of Abolitionists, he -sacrificed hope of political advancement. He gave to the cause time, -health, reputation, and when he had it to give, money. In company with -Abolitionist leaders and orators he encountered mobs and speculated -philosophically on the chance of losing his life. - -In 1837 he acted as a secretary to the American Anti-Slavery Society -in New York. From 1838 to 1840 he edited ‘The Pennsylvania Freeman,’ -published in Philadelphia. During an Abolitionist convention, -Pennsylvania Hall, in which were the offices of the ‘Freeman,’ was -sacked and burned by a pro-slavery mob. Whittier, disguised in a wig -and a long overcoat, mingled with the rioters and contrived to save -a few of his papers. It was a more dangerous rabble than that he -encountered during the George Thomson riot at Concord, New Hampshire, -three years earlier. Whittier once remarked that he never really feared -for his life, but that he had no mind to a coat of tar and feathers. - -A true son of Essex, he soon wearied of city life. ‘I would rather live -an obscure New England farmer,’ he said. ‘I would rather see the sunset -light streaming through the valley of the Merrimac than to look out -for many months upon brick walls, and Sam Weller’s “werry beautiful -landscape of chimney-pots.”’ - -He really had no choice in the matter, having been warned to give up -editorial work if he would keep his precarious hold on life. He obeyed -the warning. But with Whittier journalism was a disease. He had a -relapse in 1844, when he took charge of the ‘Middlesex Standard’ of -Lowell, and again, in 1845–46, when he was virtual editor of the ‘Essex -Transcript’ in Amesbury. - -No restriction was placed on his doing work at home. He wrote -unceasingly, prose and verse, reaching his literary audience through -the ‘Democratic Review’ and his audience of reformers through Bailey’s -paper, ‘The National Era,’ both published in Washington. Whittier was -corresponding editor of the ‘Era’ from 1847 to 1850, and printed in its -columns, besides political articles, such now famous poems as ‘Maud -Muller,’ ‘Ichabod,’ ‘Tauler,’ and ‘The Chapel of the Hermits.’ - -The list of Whittier’s chief publications up to the year 1857 contains -seventeen titles: _Legends of New England_, 1831; _Moll Pitcher_, -1832 (revised edition 1840); _Justice and Expediency_, 1833; _Mogg -Megone_, 1836; _Poems written during the Progress of the Abolition -Question_, etc., 1837 (unauthorized issue); _Poems_, 1838; _Lays of my -Home and Other Poems_, 1843; _The Stranger in Lowell_, 1845; _Voices -of Freedom_, 1846; _The Supernaturalism of New England_, 1847; -_Leaves from Margaret Smith’s Journal_, 1849; _Poems_, 1849;[36] _Old -Portraits and Modern Sketches_, 1850; _Songs of Labor and Other Poems_, -1850; _The Chapel of the Hermits and Other Poems_, 1853; _Literary -Recreations and Miscellanies_, 1854; _The Panorama and Other Poems_, -1856. - -The founding of the ‘Atlantic Monthly’ (1857) gave Whittier a more -assured place. His work was sought and the pay was generous. He became -an overseer of Harvard College in 1858. In 1860 the college made him a -Master of Arts, and in 1866 a Doctor of Laws. - -His home for many years was in Amesbury, the farm at East Haverhill -having been sold in 1836. After the death of his mother and younger -sister he passed much of his time with kinsfolk at the house known as -‘Oak Knoll,’ in Danvers. For all his admiration of women, Whittier -never married. He enjoyed allusions to a supposititious Mrs. Whittier. -Writing to his niece, Mrs. Pickard, about some friend who was unhappy -over political defeat, Whittier said: ‘I told him I had been in the -same predicament ... and got abused worse than he did, for I was -charged with ill-treating my wife!’ - -Whittier was a birthright member of the Society of Friends and -influential in their councils. His advice was much sought and freely -given in terms of blended modesty, good sense, and humor. - -During the last twenty years of his life Whittier published the -following volumes: _Home Ballads and Poems_, 1860; _In War Time and -Other Poems_, 1864; _National Lyrics_, 1865; _Snow-Bound_, 1866; _The -Tent on the Beach and Other Poems_, 1867; _Among the Hills and Other -Poems_, 1869; _Ballads of New England_, 1870; _Miriam and Other Poems_, -1871; _The Pennsylvania Pilgrim and Other Poems_, 1872; _Mabel Martin_, -1874; _Hazel-Blossoms_, 1875; _The Vision of Echard and Other Poems_, -1878; _The King’s Missive and Other Poems_, 1881; _The Bay of Seven -Islands and Other Poems_, 1883; _Saint Gregory’s Guest and Recent -Poems_, 1886; _At Sundown_, 1892. - -The honors accorded him on his seventieth, eightieth, and eighty-fourth -anniversaries gave Whittier much happiness. He was especially pleased -to learn that the bells of St. Boniface, in Winnipeg, Manitoba -(celebrated in his ‘Red River Voyageur’), were rung for him at midnight -of December 17, 1891. Said the poet in his letter to Archbishop Tâché: -‘Such a delicate and beautiful tribute has deeply moved me. I shall -never forget it.’ - -Nothing was left undone that the tenderest love and wisest solicitude -could do for his comfort. His last illness was brief. He died at -Hampton Falls, New Hampshire, on September 7, 1892. - - -II - -WHITTIER’S CHARACTER - -Whittier’s shyness was proverbial. Those who knew him also knew -that beneath that shyness was a masterful spirit. Evasion and -inconclusiveness on the part of those with whom he dealt would not -avail. Whittier wanted to know where public men stood and for what they -stood. A politician himself, he understood the art of dealing with -politicians. To a certain candidate he said: ‘Thee cannot expect the -votes of our people unless thee speak more plainly.’ Being in great -need of the votes of ‘our people,’ the candidate was compelled to speak -at once and to use the words Whittier put into his mouth. - -Another possessed of like skill in controlling men might have grown -despotic. Not so Whittier. Tactful and conciliatory, no grain of -selfishness was to be found in his composition. He worked for the cause -alone. - -His physical courage, of which there are abundant illustrations, -was fully equal to his moral courage. The nerve required to face a -disciplined enemy, as in war, is always admirable; one would not wish -to underestimate it. But it is a type of courage not difficult to -comprehend. A glamour hangs about the battlefield. Men are carried -on by the esprit de corps. They do wonders and marvel at their -own courage afterwards. Facing a mob is another matter. A mob is -an assassin; the last thing it wants is fair play. Whittier had no -experiences like those to which Bailey and Garrison were subjected, but -he had enough to try his mettle. - -He was one of the most modest of men, holding his achievements, -literary and otherwise, at far lower estimate than did the public. To -an anxious inquirer Whittier said that he did not think ‘Maud Muller’ -worth serious analysis. He asked for criticism on his verses, and was -not slow to act upon it when given. His open-mindedness is shown in -the way he accepted Lowell’s suggestion about the refrain of ‘Skipper -Ireson’s Ride.’ He defended himself when the criticism touched his -motives or impugned his love of truth. Charged with having boasted that -his story of ‘Barbara Frietchie’ would live until it got beyond reach -of correction, Whittier replied: ‘Those who know me will bear witness -that I am not in the habit of boasting of anything whatever, least -of all of congratulating myself upon a doubtful statement outliving -the possibility of correction.... I have no pride of authorship to -interfere with my allegiance to truth.’ - -He was a stanch friend, and a helpful neighbor. His filial piety was -deep--no trait of his character was more pronounced. He was the most -devoted of sons, the best of brothers. - -The seriousness of Whittier’s temper and mind was relieved by a keen -sense of humor which found expression in many engaging ways. His -letters written in young manhood are at times almost boisterously -mirthful. His humor grew subdued as he became older, but it never lost -its charm. Those who were nearest him realized how much it contributed -to making him the most companionable of men. - - -III - -THE LITERARY CRAFTSMAN - -‘I have left one bad rhyme ... to preserve my well known character in -that respect,’ says Whittier in a letter to Fields, his publisher. The -charge of laxity in rhymes was the one most often brought against him. -He labored under two capital disadvantages; he was self-taught and he -wrote always for a moral purpose. His objection to reprinting _Mogg -Megone_ grew out of the feeling, not that it was bad poetry,--though -he had no delusions about its artistic value,--but that it was not -calculated to do good. Ethics, rather than art, were uppermost in his -thought. There has never been question of his native power. He could -be exquisitely felicitous, but, having acquired the habit of writing -for a cause, of sacrificing nicety of phrase for vigor of thought -and rapidity of utterance, being eager always to strike a blow at -the critical moment, he found it difficult to write with a dominant -artistic motive. He wrote better (technically speaking) the older he -grew. It is difficult to realize as we listen to the rich strains of -his later years that Whittier could have been as inharmonious as he -often was in the first period of his poetic life. He confessed his -defect. To Fields he once said: ‘It’s lucky that other folks’ ears are -not so sensitive as thine.’ - -His variety of metres, if not great, was sufficiently ample to preclude -the feeling of sameness. His verse never comes laden with scholarly -suggestion in rhythm or thought, with the faint sweet echoes of -old-time poetry, as does Longfellow’s. Whittier was not ‘literary,’ -though he made a noble addition to the literature of his country. - -Whittier’s prose has been ignored rather than underestimated. It is -clear and forceful, often impassioned, and sometimes eloquent. Whether -a reputation could be based on it is another matter. Certainly it has -not been accorded the popular favor it deserves. Among a thousand -readers, for example, who know _Snow-Bound_ there are possibly two or -three who have read _Margaret Smith’s Journal_. - -Of the seven prose sketches in _Legends of New England_ not one was -thought by the author worth preserving. He also suppressed much of the -contents of the two volumes published some fifteen years after the -_Legends_. Both these later books, _The Stranger in Lowell_ and _The -Supernaturalism of New England_, ought to be reprinted as they came -first from Whittier’s hand. - -_The Stranger in Lowell_, a volume of more or less related essays, -is in part a record of impressions made on the author during a -brief residence in the new manufacturing town by the Merrimac. The -extraordinary growth of ‘The City of a Day’ was then, and is still, -a legitimate cause for wonder. All the eighteen papers are readable, -and that entitled ‘The Yankee Zincali’ is a little classic. Whittier’s -next volume of prose, _The Supernaturalism of New England_, consists of -nine chapters on witches, wizards, ghosts, apparitions, haunted houses, -charms, and the like. It is rather a wide survey of the subject, -from the Indian powahs to the Irish Presbyterians who settled in New -Hampshire in 1720, and brought with them, ‘among other strange matters, -potatoes and fairies.’ Whittier dwells on these traditions of his -country with deep interest and sets them forth with no little humor. It -is a fault of the book that he does not dwell on them at greater length. - -_Leaves from Margaret Smith’s Journal_ is an admirable study of -colonial New England in 1678. The style is sweet, the narrative -flowing, the characters, many of them historical, are consistent and -lifelike, and the tone of delicate irony running through the book -is most engaging. Genuinely illuminating to the student of manners -are such passages in the journal as those describing the ordination -of Mr. Brock at Reading, the meeting at the inn with a son of Mr. -Increase Mather, ‘a pert talkative lad’ abounding in anecdotes of the -miraculous, the antics of Mr. Corbet’s negro boy Sam, and the encounter -on the way back to Boston with the good old deacon under the influence -of flip. A strong and engrossing plot might have made the book more -popular, as it might also have been inconsistent with the artlessness -of what purports to be a young girl’s journal. - -_Old Portraits and Modern Sketches_ is a volume of character studies -of ancient worthies (such as Bunyan, Ellwood, Baxter, Marvell) and of -two or three moderns (like William Leggett, to whom Whittier pays a -generous tribute). _Literary Recreations and Miscellanies_ consists of -a reprint of material used in earlier books, together with a group of -reviews and other papers. - - -IV - -NARRATIVE AND LEGENDARY VERSE - -Whittier’s instinct drew him irresistibly to native themes. He believed -that the American poet should write about America. ‘New England is -full of Romance,’ he had said in his sketch of Brainard. ‘The great -forest which our fathers penetrated--the red men--their struggle and -their disappearance--the Powwow and the War-dance--the savage inroad -and the English sally--the tale of superstition, and the scenes of -Witchcraft,--all these are rich materials of poetry.’ And it is safe to -assume that Whittier never questioned the wisdom of his own choice of -subjects, though he was often dissatisfied with the treatment. - -Much of Whittier’s early verse died a natural death. More ought in -his opinion to have done so. He marvelled at the ‘feline tenacity of -life’ exhibited by certain poems and thought it flat contradiction of -the theory of the survival of the fittest. He destroyed every copy -of _Legends of New England_ that he could get his hands on. He would -have been glad to suppress _Mogg Megone_. ‘Is there no way to lay the -ghosts of unlucky rhymes?’ he asked, when the question was raised of -reprinting the story in the ‘blue and gold’ volumes of 1857. It had -appeared in the first collected edition (1849), and again in 1870; but -when the definitive edition was published (1888), _Mogg Megone_ was -consigned to ‘the limbo of an appendix,’ and printed in type small -enough to make the reading a torture. - -The plot is imaginary, but the characters are for the most part -historical. The outlaw Bonython sells his daughter to the Saco -chief Hegone, or, as he was commonly called, Mogg Megone. The girl -murders the savage as he lies drunk in her father’s hut. For Mogg had -boasted of killing her seducer. She flies to the settlement of the -Norridgewock Indians to confess to the Jesuit Sebastian Ralle, and is -repulsed by the angry priest, whose plans are thwarted by Megone’s -untimely death. Wandering about in agony, she sees the attack by the -English on Norridgewock, when Ralle was shot at the foot of the cross, -and later is found by Castine and his men, dead in the forest. The poem -is spirited and abounds in incident, but it is melodramatic. It lacks -the magic of Whittier’s art. Nevertheless he unjustly depreciated it. - -A better performance is ‘The Bridal of Pennacook,’ with its strongly -marked characters of Passaconaway, Weetamoo, and Winnepurkit, its -contrasting pictures of the rich Merrimac valley and the wild Saugus -marshes. Along with this story of Indian life may be read ‘The -Fountain’ and the musical stanzas of the ‘Funeral Tree of the Sokokis.’ -‘The Truce of Piscataqua’ and ‘Nauhaught, the Deacon’ are later poems -illustrating Indian character. - -Living in what had been for many years one of the border towns of -Massachusetts, Whittier was naturally drawn to themes, partly historic, -partly legendary, touching the struggles between French, English, and -Indians. ‘Pentucket’ commemorates Hertel de Rouville’s night attack on -Haverhill. ‘St. John,’ a ballad of Acadia, describes the sack of La -Tour’s fortress by his rival, D’Aulnay. ‘Mary Garvin’ and ‘The Ranger’ -are ‘border’ ballads. - -Now and then he rhymes ‘a wild and wondrous story,’ such as ‘The -Garrison of Cape Ann,’ which he found in the _Magnalia Christi_:-- - - Dear to me these far, faint glimpses of the dual life of old, - Inward, grand with awe and reverence; outward, mean and coarse and cold; - Gleams of mystic beauty playing over dull and vulgar clay, - Golden-threaded fancies weaving in a web of hodden gray. - -A number of the poems turn on the witchcraft persecutions: ‘Mabel -Martin,’ ‘The Witch of Wenham,’ and the fine ‘Prophecy of Samuel -Sewall.’ In _The Tent on the Beach_ are two more: ‘The Wreck of the -Rivermouth’ and ‘The Changeling.’ - -Whittier was always ready to speak on the injustice of injustice. His -Quaker ancestors used to receive gifts of forty stripes save one. They -were martyrs for the cause of religious liberty. And the sufferings -of the New England Quakers was a subject always to the poet’s hand. -He contemplated the wrongs that had been righted and was grateful -therefor; but it was a part of his mission to teach his readers what -progress had been made since the days in which state and church united -to persecute a harmless if sometimes extravagant people. The lesson -may be found in such poems as ‘How the Women went from Dover’ and ‘The -King’s Missive.’ Whittier knew that injustice is always ridiculous, -and a grim humor plays at times about his treatment of events in that -dreadful day, as in the story of Thomas Macy. The most characteristic -setting of his general theme is to be found in the spirited ballad of -‘Cassandra Southwick.’ The incident is told dramatically by the heroine -herself, but the passion which glows through the verse is true Whittier. - - -V - -_VOICES OF FREEDOM_, _SONGS OF LABOR_, _IN WAR TIME_ - -The militant note in Whittier’s verse was sounded early. In 1832, when -he was twenty-five years old, he wrote the stanzas ‘To William Lloyd -Garrison.’ They were followed by ‘Toussaint L’Ouverture’ (1833), ‘The -Slave-Ships’ (1834), ‘The Hunters of Men’ and ‘Stanzas for the Times’ -(1835), ‘Clerical Oppressors’ (1836), and the stinging ‘Pastoral -Letter’ (1837). He was now fairly embarked on his mission. - -The brunt of his attack fell on supine Northern politicians, clerical -apologists, and anxious business men who feared agitation might injure -their Southern trade. Nothing was more abhorrent to Whittier than -traffic in human flesh. He marvelled that it was not abhorrent to every -one, and strove with all his power to make it so. America, in his -belief, was a by-word among the nations, forever prating of ‘liberty’ -while she bought and sold slaves. - -As he was the assailant of timid vote-seekers, money-getters, and -ministers who defended slavery ‘on scriptural grounds,’ so was Whittier -the eulogist of all who made sacrifices for the cause, or who, like -‘Randolph of Roanoke,’ a man with every traditional motive to cling to -the peculiar institution, testified against it. _Voices of Freedom_ -is a record of the guerilla warfare which Whittier waged during forty -years against slavery. With the additions he made to it in the progress -of the struggle, it became not only the largest division of his work -but one of the most notable. The history of Abolitionism is written -here. ‘The Pastoral Letter’ was Whittier’s response to the body of -Congregational ministers who deprecated the discussion of slavery as -tending to make trouble in the churches. ‘Massachusetts to Virginia’ -was called out by Latimer’s case. ‘Texas,’ ‘Faneuil Hall,’ and the -lines ‘To a Southern Statesman’ are a protest against the annexation of -territory ‘sufficient for six new slave states.’ ‘For Righteousness’ -Sake’ was inscribed to friends ‘under arrest for treason against the -slave power.’ The fine closing stanza deserves to be better known:-- - - God’s ways seem dark, but, soon or late, - They touch the shining hills of day; - The evil cannot brook delay, - The good can well afford to wait. - Give ermined knaves their hour of crime; - Ye have the future grand and great, - The safe appeal of Truth to Time! - -‘The Kansas Emigrants’ celebrates the Western advance, the coming of -the new Pilgrims, armed with the Bible and free schools. ‘Le Marais -du Cygne’ was written on hearing of the Kansas massacre in May, 1858. -‘The Quakers are Out,’ a campaign song (not included in the collected -writings), celebrates the Republican victory in Pennsylvania on the eve -of the National election:-- - - Away with misgiving--away with all doubt, - For Lincoln goes in, when the Quakers are out! - -Not the least notable among these poems is ‘The Summons,’ in which -the poet contrasts the quiet of summer with the distant tumult of -approaching war, and his knowledge of his place in the approaching -struggle with consciousness of his inability to act. - -The Voices of Freedom are often harsh and discordant. Lines were -written in hot haste and sent to press before the ink had time to -dry. The needs of the moment were imperative. There was little time -to correct and no time to polish. Had Whittier possessed a lyric gift -approximating that of Hugo or Swinburne, how wonderful must have been -his contribution to our literature. For the cause was great and his -devotion single. Much of the verse, however, is journalism. - -He rises easily to poetic heights. ‘Massachusetts to Virginia’ has a -magnificent swing and pulsates with passion. When Webster’s defection -spread anger, consternation, and grief through the ranks of the party -of Freedom, Whittier penned the burning stanzas to which he gave the -title ‘Ichabod.’ This anti-slavery poem was published in _Songs of -Labor_, and is justly accounted one of the loftiest expressions of -Whittier’s genius. - -_In War Time and Other Poems_ records the anxieties, fears, hopes, and -exultations incident to the great conflict between North and South. -Says the poet:-- - - ‘... our voices take - A sober tone; our very household songs - Are heavy with a nation’s griefs and wrongs; - And innocent mirth is chastened for the sake - Of the brave hearts that nevermore shall beat, - The eyes that smile no more, the unreturning feet!’ - -The volume contains ‘Barbara Frietchie,’ perhaps the most popular -ballad of the war, based on an incident told to Whittier by Mrs. -Southworth, the novelist. One must reconstruct the times to comprehend -the extraordinary effect produced by this dramatic little incident. -Iconoclasts have made havoc with the story. If their points are well -taken, we have one proof more of the superiority of legend over history -for poetic purposes. Other noteworthy poems in this volume are ‘Thy -Will be Done’ and the magnificent hymn ‘Ein Feste Burg ist Unser Gott.’ - - We wait beneath the furnace blast - The pangs of transformation; - Not painlessly doth God recast - And mould anew the nation. - Hot burns the fire - Where wrongs expire; - Nor spares the hand - That from the land - Uproots the ancient evil. - - -VI - -_SNOW-BOUND_, _TENT ON THE BEACH_, _PENNSYLVANIA PILGRIM_, _VISION OF -ECHARD_ - -The volume of 1860, _Home Ballads and Poems_, contained two perfect -examples of Whittier’s art, namely, ‘My Playmate’ and ‘Telling the -Bees.’ To inquire what far-off experiences in the poet’s life prompted -the making of these exquisite ‘ballads,’ as Whittier called them, were -idle, poets being proverbially given to the use of the imagination. -The music of the dark pines on Ramoth Hill could be no sweeter than -it is. The theme of either poem is common enough among bards, and -perennially attractive. ‘My Playmate’ and ‘Telling the Bees,’ together -with ‘Amy Wentworth’ and ‘The Countess,’ all show, though in varying -degrees, how pregnant with poetic suggestion were the scenes amid which -Whittier passed his life. Even that urban and aristocratic little poem -‘Amy Wentworth’ derives half its charm from the world of associations -called up by the fog wreaths, the pebbled beach, and the sweet brier -blooming on Kittery-side. - -The above-named poems, together with ‘The Barefoot Boy’ and ‘In -School-Days,’ suggest a phase of Whittier’s genius which found complete -expression in the ‘winter idyl,’ a picture of life in the old East -Haverhill homestead. - -_Snow-Bound_ was published in 1866. What the author thought of it we -now know: ‘If it were not mine I should call it pretty good.’ The -public decided for itself and bought copies enough to fatten Whittier’s -lean purse with ten thousand dollars. The enviously-inclined should -remember that the poet was nearly sixty when this happened to him. -A twelvemonth later _The Tent on the Beach_ was published and began -selling at the rate of a thousand copies a day. Whittier wrote to -Fields: ‘This will never do; the swindle is awful; Barnum is a saint to -us.’ - -Readers who find difficulty in comprehending the enthusiasm that -_Snow-Bound_ evoked must reflect that there are strange creatures in -the world who actually like winter. For them Whittier had a particular -message. He has reproduced the atmosphere of the New England landscape -under storm-cloud and falling snow with utmost precision. No important -detail is wanting, and no detail is emphasized to the injury of -the general effect. The exactness and simplicity of the touch are -wholly admirable. The result is as exquisite as the means to it are -unostentatious. - -_Snow-Bound_ is a favorite because of its homely, sweet realism, -because of the poetic glow thrown on old-fashioned scenes, because of -the variety of moods (which, lying between the extremes of playfulness -and deepest feeling, shade naturally from one to the next); and because -of the reverential spirit, the high confidence and trust. The poem -is autobiographical, but it needs no ‘key’ to give it interest. The -characters are types. - -In _The Tent on the Beach_ it is related how a poet,[37] a publisher -(who in this instance, contrary to the traditions of his race, is a -friend of the poet), and a traveller beguile an evening at the seaside -with the reading of manuscript verses from the publisher’s portfolio. -The tales, eleven in number, with a closing lyric on ‘The Worship -of Nature,’ are too uniformly sombre. The one called ‘The Maids of -Attitash’ is blithe enough, but the gray tints need even more relief. - -Whittier’s power in descriptions of sea and sky is displayed at its -best in this volume. One does not soon forget this stanza from the -prelude:-- - - Sometimes a cloud, with thunder black, - Stooped low upon the darkening main, - Piercing the waves along its track - With the slant javelins of rain. - And when west-wind and sunshine warm - Chased out to sea its wrecks of storm, - They saw the prismy hues in thin spray showers - Where the green buds of waves burst into white froth-flowers! - -Even better is the description of the breakers seen by twilight:-- - - ... trampling up the sloping sand, - In lines outreaching far and wide, - The white-maned billows swept to land, - Dim seen across the gathering shade, - A vast and ghostly cavalcade. - -The change from the mist and confusion of the brief tempest to the -clear after effect was never better rendered:-- - - Suddenly seaward swept the squall; - The low sun smote through cloudy rack; - The Shoals stood clear in the light, and all - The trend of the coast lay hard and black. - -_Among the Hills_, _Miriam_, and _The Pennsylvania Pilgrim_ come next -in order of publication. The first is a romance of New England country -life; the second is ‘Oriental and purely fiction;’ the third, partly -historical and partly imaginative, is an attempt to reconstruct life in -Penn’s colony towards the close of the Seventeenth Century. Whittier -said of _The Pennsylvania Pilgrim_: ‘It is as long as _Snow-Bound_, -and better, but nobody will find it out.’ The poet felt that too -little had been said in praise of the humanizing influences at work in -the colonies by the Schuylkill and the Delaware. The Pilgrim Father -here celebrated is Daniel Pastorius, who planted the settlement of -Germantown. He was the first American abolitionist. The poem abounds -in happy pictures of scenery, and in tenderly humorous sketches of the -quaint characters who found peace, shelter, and, above all, toleration, -under the beneficent rule of Pastorius. - -_The Vision of Echard_ will serve to introduce Whittier’s distinctively -religious poems. A characteristic performance, it admirably illustrates -his manner, diction, cast of thought. First, the scenes of great -natural beauty, where historical memories are overlaid and blended -with ideas of ceremonial pomp associated with formal religion; and -then, projected on this rich background, the dreamer and his dream. The -blended walls of sapphire in Echard’s vision ‘blazed with the thought -of God:’-- - - Ye bow to ghastly symbols, - To cross and scourge and thorn; - Ye seek his Syrian manger - Who in the heart is born. - - * * * * * - - O blind ones, outward groping, - The idle quest forego; - Who listens to His inward voice - Alone of him shall know. - - * * * * * - - A light, a guide, a warning, - A presence ever near, - Through the deep silence of the flesh - I reach the inward ear. - - * * * * * - - The stern behest of duty, - The doom-book open thrown, - The heaven ye seek, the hell ye fear, - Are with yourselves alone. - -Whittier did not include ‘The Preacher’ among his religious poems. -This fine picture of the ‘great awakening’ might be so classified. -Also ‘The Chapel of the Hermits,’ ‘Tauler,’ and yet others. In general -the religious poems consist of meditations on sacred characters and -scenes, poetic settings of Biblical narrative, and reflective poems in -which Whittier gives voice to phases of his spiritual life, and above -all to a faith so broad that the distinctions of sect and creed are -lost in its catholic charity. ‘Questions of Life,’ ‘The Over-Heart,’ -‘Trinitas,’ ‘The Shadow and the Light,’ and ‘The Eternal Goodness’ are -the expressions of this lofty and inspiring side of his poetic genius. - -Whittier’s singing voice lost none of its flexibility but rather gained -as time went on. ‘The Henchman’ was a striking performance for a man of -seventy. ‘It is not exactly a Quakerly piece, nor is it didactic, and -it has no moral that I know of,’ observed Whittier. He must have known -that it had the moral of exquisite beauty. Indeed he admitted that it -was ‘not unpoetical.’ - -His last utterance was a little group of poems, _At Sundown_, having -for the controlling thought the close of life’s day. One of them, -‘Burning Drift-Wood,’ was the poet’s farewell; and with the quotation -of four of its stanzas we may bring to an end this brief survey of -Whittier’s work. - - What matter that it is not May, - That birds have flown, and trees are bare, - That darker grows the shortening day, - And colder blows the wintry air! - - The wrecks of passion and desire, - The castles I no more rebuild, - May fitly feed my drift-wood fire, - And warm the hands that age has chilled. - - * * * * * - - I know the solemn monotone - Of waters calling unto me; - I know from whence the airs have blown - That whisper of the Eternal Sea. - - As low my fires of drift-wood burn, - I hear that sea’s deep sound increase. - And, fair in sunset light, discern - Its mirage-lifted Isles of Peace. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [35] Whittier’s Autobiographical Letter, in Carpenter’s _Whittier_. - - [36] The first collected edition made with Whittier’s consent. - - [37] Whittier, J. T. Fields, and Bayard Taylor. - - - - -X - -_Nathaniel Hawthorne_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =Julian Hawthorne=: _Nathaniel Hawthorne and his Wife_, second - edition, 1885. - - =Horatio Bridge=: _Personal Recollections of Nathaniel - Hawthorne_, 1893. - - =G. E. Woodberry=: _Nathaniel Hawthorne_, ‘American Men of - Letters,’ 1902. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -Among the passengers in the ship which brought Winthrop and Dudley to -the New World was William Hathorne, the ancestor of the novelist. A -man of character, versatile, naturally eloquent, and a born leader, he -rose to a position of influence in the colony. One of his sons, John -Hathorne, was destined to sinister renown as a judge at the trials for -witchcraft held at Salem in 1691. - -Daniel Hathorne, a grandson of the old witch judge, took to the -sea, and during the Revolutionary War served as a privateersman. He -had seven children. Nathaniel, his third son, also a sea-captain, -married Elizabeth Clarke Manning, and became the father of Nathaniel -Hawthorne, the novelist, who was born at Salem, Massachusetts, on July -4, 1804. - -Captain Hawthorne died at Surinam in 1808. The rigid seclusion in which -his widow lived after her husband’s death had a marked effect on her -son, quickening his sensibilities and at the same time clouding his -lively nature with a shadow of premature gravity. - -Hawthorne’s boyhood was passed partly at Salem, partly on the shores of -Sebago Lake, in Maine, where his grandfather Manning owned large tracts -of land. His reading for pleasure included Clarendon and Froissart, -to say nothing of that old-time boys’ delight, the Newgate Calendar. -The first book that he bought with his own money was Spenser’s _Faery -Queen_. At sixteen he had read _Caleb Williams_, _St. Leon_, and -_Mandeville_. ‘I admire Godwin’s novels and intend to read all of them.’ - -He entered Bowdoin College in the same class with Longfellow and -Franklin Pierce, and was graduated in 1825. For the next twelve years -he lived the life of a recluse in his own home at Salem, indulging his -passion for writing and for taking twilight walks. It was the period of -his literary apprenticeship. Later he was, as he says, ‘drawn somewhat -into the world and became pretty much like other people.’ In 1828 he -published, anonymously and at his own expense, a novel, _Fanshawe_. He -made some mystery about it, binding by solemn promises the few who -were in the secret of the authorship, not to betray it. The public was -indifferent to the book, and Hawthorne afterwards destroyed the copies -he could find. His early sketches and stories were published in annuals -such as ‘The Token,’ and in periodicals such as ‘The New England -Magazine,’ ‘Knickerbocker,’ and ‘The Democratic Review.’ For the most -part they ‘passed without notice.’ - -In 1837 appeared a volume of eighteen of these sketches and stories, -to which Hawthorne gave the title of _Twice-Told Tales_. An enlarged -edition, containing twenty-one additional stories, appeared in 1842. -Between the two, Hawthorne brought out a group of children’s stories, -_Grandfather’s Chair_, _Famous Old People_, and the _Liberty Tree_, all -in 1841, and _Biographical Stories for Children_, 1842. - -When Bancroft became Collector of the Port of Boston, he appointed -Hawthorne as weigher and gauger (1839). Thrown out by the change of -administration (1841), Hawthorne invested his savings in the Brook -Farm enterprise. This move (described by his latest biographer as ‘the -only apparently freakish action of his life’) was made in the hope of -providing a home for his betrothed, Sophia Peabody. He threw himself -with good humor into the life of the community, planted potatoes, cut -straw, milked three cows night and morning, and signed his letters to -his sister ‘Nath. Hawthorne, Ploughman.’ Reports circulated that the -author of the _Twice-Told Tales_ might be seen dressed in a farmer’s -frock, carrying milk to Boston every morning; also that he was ‘to do -the travelling in Europe _for the Community_.’ - -Brook Farm proved ‘thralldom and weariness,’ and Hawthorne abandoned -it, losing, as he later discovered, the one thousand dollars he had -invested. In July, 1842, he married and settled in the ‘Old Manse’ at -Concord. - -He had now enough and to spare of the leisure which a deliberate writer -finds indispensable. In a room overlooking the battlefield (the room in -which Emerson had written _Nature_) Hawthorne penned many of the tales -afterwards incorporated in _Mosses from an Old Manse_. The period of -his residence at Concord will always seem to those who have studied its -many charming records not undeserving the characterization of idyllic. -It was brought to a close in 1845, when there seemed a likelihood (made -a certainty the following year) of his becoming Surveyor of Customs -for the Port of Salem. Hawthorne held this post until June, 1849. His -removal gave him time for the working out of an idea that had possessed -him for many months, and which took shape in the form of his great -romance, _The Scarlet Letter_. - -From the spring of 1850 to the autumn of 1851 Hawthorne lived at Lenox -in the Berkshire Hills, and there wrote _The House of the Seven -Gables_. He then removed to West Newton, where, during the winter of -1851–52, he wrote _The Blithedale Romance_. In June, 1852, he took -possession of a house in Concord, which he had bought of Alcott. He had -but fairly settled himself in his new home (‘The Wayside’ he called it) -when his friend Franklin Pierce, now President of the United States, -made him consul at Liverpool. - -Hawthorne assumed his charge in July, 1853, and conducted its affairs -with energy and skill until September, 1857. The period of his English -residence was rich in experiences, of which social honors formed the -least part. The quiet, brooding observer had no wish to be lionized and -apparently discouraged the few well-meant advances that were made. He -once saw Tennyson at the Arts’ Exhibition at Manchester, and rejoiced -in him more than in all the other wonders of the place; but it was like -Hawthorne to have been content merely to gaze at the laureate without -presuming on his own achievements as ground for claiming acquaintance. - -After leaving Liverpool, Hawthorne spent two winters in Italy, where -_The Marble Faun_ was conceived. The greater part of the actual writing -was done in England, at Redcar on the North Sea. - -At this point it will be well to take note of Hawthorne’s principal -writings subsequent to the publication of the second edition of the -_Twice-Told Tales_. They are: _The Celestial Railroad_, 1843; _Mosses -from an Old Manse_, 1846;[38] _The Scarlet Letter_, 1850; _The House -of the Seven Gables_, 1851; _A Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys_, 1852; -_The Snow-Image, and Other Twice-Told Tales_, 1852; _The Blithedale -Romance_, 1852; _Life of Franklin Pierce_, 1852; _Tanglewood Tales_, -1853; _The Marble Faun, or the Romance of Monte Beni_, 1860;[39] _Our -Old Home_, 1863. - -The posthumous publications are: _Passages from the American Note-Books -of Nathaniel Hawthorne_, 1868; _Passages from the English Note-Books_ -..., 1870; _Passages from the French and Italian Note-Books_ ..., -1872; _Septimius Felton_, 1872; _The Dolliver Romance_, 1876; _Doctor -Grimshawe’s Secret_, 1883. - -In June, 1860, after an absence of seven years, Hawthorne returned -to ‘The Wayside.’ He felt the burden of the political situation now -culminating in civil war. With little sympathy for the cause of -Abolition, Hawthorne, when the conflict had actually begun, found it -‘delightful to share in the heroic sentiment of the time’ and to feel -that he had a country.[40] - -His health began to decline and he was spiritless and depressed. In -March, 1864, accompanied by his friend W. D. Ticknor, he started -southward, hoping for benefit from the change. Ticknor, who was -seemingly in perfect health, died suddenly in Philadelphia. Hawthorne -was unnerved by the shock. In May he undertook a carriage journey -among the New Hampshire hills with Pierce. The friends proceeded by -easy stages, reaching Plymouth in the evening of May 18. Hawthorne -was growing visibly weaker and Pierce had already determined that he -would send for Mrs. Hawthorne. Shortly after midnight he went into his -friend’s room. Hawthorne was apparently sleeping. He went again between -three and four in the morning. Hawthorne was dead. - - -II - -HAWTHORNE’s CHARACTER - -‘I am a man, and between man and man there is always an insuperable -gulf,’ said Kenyon in _The Marble Faun_. - -Hawthorne might have been speaking through Kenyon’s lips, so accurately -does the saying voice his private thought. He lived in a world apart. -No experience of custom-house, consulate, or farm could bring him -quite out of his world into the common world of men. Hawthorne had -more reason than Emerson to complain of the wall between him and -his fellow-mortals. When glib talkers were displaying no end of -conversational change, Hawthorne kept his hands in his pockets. He had -no mind to indulge in that form of matching pennies known as small talk. - -Observers have voiced their impressions of him in different ways; -their testimony is not discordant. The romantically inclined described -Hawthorne as mysterious. Plain people thought him queer. Even his -brother authors found him odd. Longfellow described Hawthorne as ‘a -strange owl, a very peculiar individual, with a dash of originality -about him very pleasant to behold.’ Yet Hawthorne was without a grain -of affectation, and took keen interest in the homely facts of life. His -books everywhere betray this interest. He who wrote that description -of his kitchen garden in _The Old Manse_ would seem to be just the -man to lean over the fence and talk cabbages and squashes with some -neighborhood farmer. And perhaps he did. - -He was not fond of men of letters as a class--which is not surprising. -The friends who stood close to him were not literary. Bridge was a -naval officer. Pierce was a politician, representative of a type for -which Hawthorne had contempt. Hillard was a lawyer, a man of the world. - -Hawthorne was not without his share of ‘human nature,’ as we say. -He had his prejudices, and they were sometimes deeply rooted. When -smarting under a sense of injustice he could wield a caustic pen. He -was a good hater, but not narrow-minded. He hated spirit-rapping, -table-tipping, and all the vulgar machinery and manifestations of a -vulgar delusion. He hated noise, brawling, and dissension. He loved his -home. His letters to his wife reveal a nature of exquisite delicacy. He -loved children, Nature, and he was chivalrous in his attitude towards -the animal creation. - -A trait of Hawthorne’s character comes out in the following incident. -He proposed to dedicate _Our Old Home_ to Franklin Pierce. This was -in 1863. The publishers, it is said, were filled with ‘consternation -and distress.’ The ex-president’s name was not one to conjure with. -Hawthorne explained his position: ‘I find that it would be a piece of -poltroonery in me to withdraw either the dedication or the dedicatory -letter.... If Pierce is so exceedingly unpopular that his name is -enough to sink the volume, there is so much the more need that an old -friend should stand by him. I cannot, merely on account of pecuniary -profit or literary reputation, go back from what I have deliberately -felt and thought it right to do.... As for the literary public, it must -accept my book precisely as I see fit to give it, or let it alone.’ - -Friendship sometimes has in it an element of perversity, and has been -known to delight in petty martyrdom. There was nothing of this in -Hawthorne. All he notes is that friendship is not a commodity. - - -III - -THE WRITER - -Hawthorne knew the secret of producing magical effects by quiet means. -He had perfect command of the materials by which are rendered the -half tones, the delicate shadings, the mysterious opalescent hues of -beautiful prose. Yet his manner is unostentatious and his vocabulary -simple. There are writers in whose work the feeling excited of -pleasurable surprise can be traced to a particular word glittering like -a diamond or a sapphire. With Hawthorne the effects are elusive, not -always to be apprehended at the moment. - -The beauty of his prose is best explained by the beauty of the ideas; -the natural phrasing serves but to define it, as physical loveliness -may be accentuated by simplicity of dress. Hawthorne’s thoughts, being -exquisite in themselves, make ornament superfluous. - -There is no trace of effort in his writing. _The Scarlet Letter_, for -example, reads as if it had come ‘like a breath of inspiration.’ Such -directness and precision of touch must always be a source of wonder -and delight, not alone to writers who fumble their sentences but to -skilled literary craftsmen as well. In Henry James’s admirable story -‘The Death of the Lion’[41] is a paragraph which suggests Hawthorne’s -manner. The regal way in which the famous novelist, Neil Paraday, adds -perfect sentence to perfect sentence is altogether like Hawthorne. - -Economy of phrase is one of his virtues. In Hawthorne there are no -wasted or superfluous sentences, not even a word in excess. Something -inexorably logical enters into his work, as in the poetic art. This -economy extends to his books as a whole. For stories so rich in ideas, -so heavy with suggestion, they are short rather than long. Yet the -movement is always leisurely. There is no haste or eagerness. A few -strokes of the pen, made with restful deliberation, serve to carry -the reader into the very heart of a tragedy. He cannot but admire the -superb strength which with so little visible effort could bring him so -far. - - -IV - -THE SHORT STORIES - -_TWICE-TOLD TALES_, _MOSSES FROM AN OLD MANSE_, _THE SNOW-IMAGE_ - -Hawthorne’s real entrance into literature dates from the publication -of the _Twice-Told Tales_, a series of harmoniously framed narratives -which have maintained their rank unmoved by the capriciousness of -popular taste. - -The sources are in part colonial history or historical legend and -tradition. ‘The Gray Champion’ is an incident of the tyranny of Andros. -‘The Maypole of Merry Mount’ celebrates the madcap revelries of the -first settlers at Wollaston. In ‘Endicott and the Red Cross’ Hawthorne -records a dramatic incident in the history of his native town, and -introduces, by the way, a motive that later was to develop into his -masterpiece. - -The ‘Legends of the Province House’ (‘Howe’s Masquerade,’ ‘Edward -Randolph’s Portrait,’ ‘Lady Eleanore’s Mantle,’ and ‘Old Esther -Dudley’) have their warp of historical truth, but the imaginative -element is dominant. ‘The Gentle Boy’ is Hawthorne’s sympathetic -tribute to the persecuted sect of the Quakers. ‘Sunday at Home,’ -‘Snow-Flakes,’ ‘Sights from a Steeple,’ ‘Footprints on the Seashore,’ -represent a type of literature which former generations enjoyed, and -which modern magazine editors would decline with energy and quite -perfunctory thanks. - -There are stories of horror and psychological mystery. The author of -‘Markheim’ might have chosen a theme like that treated in ‘Wakefield,’ -or in ‘The Prophetic Pictures.’ His handling would have been different. -We do not gladly suffer an obvious moral in these days. No one would -now dare to put ‘A Parable’ for the explanatory title of his narrative, -as Hawthorne has done in ‘The Minister’s Black Veil,’ or advise the -reader that the experiences of David Swan (if experiences those can be -called where a man sleeps and things _do not_ happen to him) argue ‘a -superintending Providence.’ - -In _Mosses from an Old Manse_ Hawthorne’s gain in power is marked. He -still ‘moralizes’ his legends; but the force of the conception and the -richness of the imagery drive the philosophy into the background. The -grim and uncanny humor of which Hawthorne had a masterful command is -displayed to the full in this book. No better illustration can be cited -than the scene where the old witch Mother Rigby exhorts the scarecrow, -she had so cunningly fashioned, to be a man. It is a grotesque, a -gruesome, and a mirth-provoking scene. - -Hawthorne had brooded long over the superstitious past with which -his own history was so singularly linked. Among the fruit of these -meditations was the story of ‘Young Goodman Brown.’ Like the minister -in the fearful narrative of ‘Thrawn Janet,’ Goodman Brown had been in -the presence of the powers of evil; but unlike the minister, he no -longer believed in virtue. - -_Mosses from an Old Manse_ also includes odd conceits such as ‘The -Celestial Railroad,’ a new enterprise built from the famous City of -Destruction, a ‘populous and flourishing town,’ to the Celestial City. -The dreamer in this modern Pilgrim’s Progress takes the journey under -the personal conduct of Mr. Smooth-it-away and notes with interest -the improvements in methods of transportation since Bunyan’s time. -Less ingenious but no less amusing are ‘The Hall of Fantasy,’ ‘The -Procession of Life,’ and ‘The Intelligence Office.’ Monsieur de -l’Aubépine loved an allegorical meaning. - -Between the _Twice-Told Tales_ and the _Mosses_ Hawthorne published -a group of children’s stories. _Grandfather’s Chair_ and the two -succeeding volumes consist of little narratives of colonial history, -in which our national exploits are celebrated in the tone of confident -Americanism so much deplored by Professor Goldwin Smith. There are -‘asides’ for grown people, as when Grandfather tells the children that -Harvard College was founded to rear up pious and learned ministers, -and that old writers called it ‘a school of the prophets.’ - -‘Is the college a school of the prophets now?’ asked Charley. - -‘You must ask some of the recent graduates,’ answered Grandfather. - -The _Wonder-Book_ and its sequel, the _Tanglewood Tales_, contain new -versions of old classical myths, the Gorgon’s Head, the Minotaur, -the Golden Fleece, and nine more. Here the adult reader has a chance -to feel the magic of Hawthorne’s art in a form where it seems most -tangible but is no less elusive. He will be astonished at the air of -reality given these old legends. - -The perfect example of his work in this genre (the child’s story) is -the initial fantasy of _The Snow-Image, and Other Twice-Told Tales_. -Such complete interweaving of the imaginative and the realistic is -little short of marvellous. And yet there are people who say that -perfect art cannot subsist in company with a moral. They may be -commended to the account of the common-sensible man who in the goodness -of his heart brought the odd, glittering, little snow-fairy into the -house and put her down in front of the hot stove. - - -V - -THE GREAT ROMANCES - -_SCARLET LETTER_, _HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES_, _BLITHEDALE ROMANCE_, -_MARBLE FAUN_ - -In addition to being an engrossing narrative and in every way a supreme -illustration of Hawthorne’s art, _The Scarlet Letter_ is a study in -will power. Of the four human lives involved in this tragedy, that of -Hester Prynne is the most absorbing, as her character is the loftiest. -Carried to the place of shame, her dark Oriental beauty irradiates all -about her, and she bears herself like a queen. Her punishment is her -own, she will ask none to share it. Her sacrifice has been infinite, -but it asks nothing in return. She bears with regal patience slight -and insult, and that worst punishment of all, the wondering terror of -little children, who flee her approach as of an evil thing. - -Hawthorne has brought out with infinite skill the dreariness of the -years following the public disgrace when Hester has no longer the help -of a rebellious pride such as carried her almost exultantly through -the first crises of the dungeon and the pillory. With a refinement of -art the author adds one last bitter drop to Hester Prynne’s cup of -bitterness in the wasting away of her superb beauty. But as the lines -of her face hardened and the natural and external graces disappeared, -the great soul waxed greater, more capable of love and pity and -tenderness. She became a ministering angel whose coming was looked for -as if she had indeed been sent from Heaven. - -It was a singular fancy of Hawthorne’s to give Hester a child like -Pearl, precocious, fitful, enigmatic, a will-o’-the-wisp, more akin -to the ‘good people’ of legendary lore than to the offspring of human -men and women. This too was a part of Hester’s discipline, that this -_un_-human, elf-like creature should have sprung from her, with a power -transcending that of other children to mix pain with pleasure in a -mother’s life. - -Looking at Roger Chillingworth as he appears in his ordinary life, one -sees only the wise, benevolent physician, infinitely solicitous for the -welfare of his young friend Arthur Dimmesdale. Surprise him when the -mask of deep-thoughted benevolence is for the moment laid aside and it -is the face of a demon that one beholds. - -Without a grain of pity for his victim he probes the minister’s soul. -Morbidly eager, he welcomes every sign that makes for his theory of -a hidden, a mental rather than a physical sickness. He gloats with -malignant joy over the discovery that this spiritually minded youth -has inherited a strong animal nature. Here is a deep and resistless -undercurrent of passion which has led to certain results. An -unflinching and cruel analysis will make clear what those results have -been. Suspicion becomes certainty, but proof is still wanting. - -For terrible suggestiveness there are but few scenes in American -fiction comparable with that where Chillingworth bends over the -sleeping minister in his study and puts aside the garment that always -closely covered his breast. The poor victim shuddered and slightly -stirred. ‘After a brief pause, the physician turned away. But with what -a wild look of wonder, joy, and horror! With what a ghastly rapture, as -it were, too mighty to be expressed only by the eye and features, and -therefore bursting through the whole ugliness of his figure, and making -itself even riotously manifest by the extravagant gestures with which -he threw up his arms towards the ceiling, and stamped his foot upon the -floor! Thus Satan might have comported himself when a precious human -soul is lost to heaven and won into his kingdom. But what distinguished -the physician’s ecstasy from Satan’s was the trait of wonder in it!’ - -Dimmesdale is the deeply pathetic figure in this tragedy of souls. -Seven years of hypocrisy might well bring the unhappy man to the -pitiable condition in which he is found when the lines of interest -in the story draw to a focus. Day by day, month by month, his was a -life of lies. No course of action seemed open to the wretched minister -which did not involve piling higher the mountain of falsehood. To lie -and to scourge himself for lying--this was his whole existence. We -praise Hester Prynne’s courage. Not less extraordinary was Dimmesdale’s -wonderful display of will power. A weaker man would have confessed at -once, or fled, or committed suicide. The minister may not be accused of -stubbornly holding to his course from fear. He feared but one thing: -the shock to the great cause for which he stood, the shame that the -revelation of his guilt would bring upon the church, the loss of his -power to do good, the spectacle, for the eyes of mocking unbelievers, -of the ‘full-fraught man and best indued’ proved the guiltiest. This -were indeed ‘another fall of man.’ - -Incomparable as _The Scarlet Letter_ undoubtedly is, there are admirers -of Hawthorne’s genius who have pronounced _The House of the Seven -Gables_ the better story of the two. The judgment may be erroneous, it -is at least not eccentric. - -In handling the genealogical details of the first chapter, Hawthorne -showed a deft touch. The descendants of the proud old Colonel Pyncheon -are as clearly defined as if the name and station of each had been -enumerated. With no less ease does one follow the fortunes of the -humble house of Matthew Maule. This progenitor of an obscure race had -been executed for witchcraft. All of his descendants bore the stamp -of this event. They were ‘marked out from other men.’ In spite of an -exterior of good fellowship, there was a circle about the Maules, -and no man had ever stepped foot inside of it. Unfortunate in its -early history, this family was never other than unfortunate. It had -an inheritance of sombre recollections, which it brooded upon, though -unresentfully. - -Its life was linked with that of the proud house whose visible mansion -was founded on property wrested from the old martyr to superstition. -For Colonel Pyncheon had shown acrimonious zeal in the witchcraft -persecutions, and unbecoming speed in seizing on the wizard’s little -plot of ground with its spring of soft and pleasant water. Inseparable -as substance and shadow, wherever there was a Pyncheon there was also -a Maule. An endless chain of dark events depended from that crime -of witchcraft days. On the scaffold the condemned wizard prophesied -concerning his accuser: ‘God will give him blood to drink.’ Men shook -their heads when Colonel Pyncheon built the House of the Seven Gables, -on the site of Matthew Maule’s hut. They had not long to wait for the -fulfilment of the prophecy. The spring became bitter, and on the day -when the stately dwelling was first opened to guests Colonel Pyncheon -was found dead in his study, with blood-bedabbled ruff and beard. -Against this tragedy of old colonial days as a background Hawthorne -projects the later story of _The House of the Seven Gables_. - -In its simplest aspect the narrative concerns the persecution of -an unfortunate and weak representative of the Pyncheon family by a -powerful and unscrupulous representative. At intervals through the -centuries the spirit of the great Puritan ancestor made its appearance -in the flesh, as if the Colonel ‘had been gifted with a sort of -intermittent immortality.’ Judge Jaffrey Pyncheon stands as a modern -reincarnation of the old persecutor of witches. Clifford, his cousin, -is a victim of the law at one of those moments when the law seems -to operate almost automatically. Suspected of murder, he might have -been cleared had Jaffrey but told what he knew, the real manner of -their uncle’s death. This were to disclose certain of his own moral -delinquencies, and Jaffrey keeps silent. And thus it happens that, both -being in their young manhood, the one is incarcerated and the other -enters on a path leading to influence, wealth, and good repute. - -To the ‘somber dignity of an inherited curse’ the Pyncheons added yet -another dignity in the form of a shadowy claim to an almost princely -tract of land in the North. The connecting link, some parchment signed -with Indian hieroglyphics, had been lost when the Colonel died; but the -poorest of his race felt an accession of pride as he contemplated that -possible inheritance. And the richest of modern Pyncheons, the Judge, -was not proof against ambitious dreams excited by the same thought. - -Affecting to believe that Clifford knows where the lost document is -hidden, the Judge tries to force himself on his victim, who, made -almost an imbecile by long imprisonment, is now, after his release, -harbored in the House of the Seven Gables and cared for by his aged -sister Hepzibah and his fair young cousin Phœbe. And while the Judge -is waiting, watch in hand, for the terror-stricken Clifford to come to -him, Death comes instead. Maule’s curse is fulfilled in yet another -generation. The suspicion that would have fallen anew on Clifford is -averted by Holgrave. But Holgrave, as he chooses to call himself, is -the last living representative of the family of Maule the wizard. And -it was for one of the persecuted race to save the unhappiest member -of the family by which his own had suffered. Holgrave marries Phœbe -Pyncheon and the blood of the two families is united. - -Holgrave’s sole inheritance from his wizard ancestor, as he laughingly -explained, was a knowledge of the hiding-place of the now worthless -Indian deed. For this secret a Pyncheon had bartered his daughter’s -life and happiness in former years. - -The Judge Pyncheon of the story has been pronounced ‘somewhat of a -stage villain, a puppet.’ This may possibly be due less to Hawthorne’s -handling of the character than to the inherent weakness of the -hypocrite as presented in fiction or drama. The patrician old woman -turned shop-keeper is so perfect a study that praise of the delineation -is almost an impertinence. And there is the great silent but living and -breathing House of the Seven Gables, in the creation of which Hawthorne -expended the wealth of his powers. It will always be a question whether -in the spiritual significance he attaches to or draws from some -physical fact this great literary artist does not show his highest -power. And many a time one finishes the reading of this particular -book with the feeling that the House of the Seven Gables is the real -protagonist of the drama. - -In respect that it is a beautiful example of Hawthorne’s art _The -Blithedale Romance_ is deserving of all the praise lavished upon -it; in respect that it is a picture of Brook Farm it is naught. The -author himself freely admitted that he chose the socialist community -merely as a theatre where the creatures of his brain might ‘play their -phantas-magorical antics’ without their being exposed to the rigid test -of ‘too close a comparison with the actual events of real lives.’ - -The antics played are such as we witness daily when human puppets -are swayed by various passions of love, jealousy, self-will, pride, -humility, the instinct for art, or the instinct for reform. The bearded -Hollingsworth, whose ‘dark shaggy face looked really beautiful with its -expression of thoughtful benevolence,’ was, without being conscious -of it, a brutal egoist, capable of bending all people and all things -to the accomplishment of his idea. He illustrates the weakness of -strength, as Priscilla, so frail, nervous, and impressionable, -illustrates the strength of weakness. - -That Hawthorne intended to show in Coverdale the insufficiency of -the profession of minor poet to make anything of a man, we shall not -pretend; but his distrust of the worth of literature is well known. -Coverdale’s failure was no greater than Hollingsworth’s, and he at -least never played with hearts. - -Zenobia is at once the most human, the most attractive, and the most -pathetic figure in the drama. ‘But yet a woman,’ and too much woman, so -that her imperial beauty and grace, her wealth, her skill to command, -her magnetic charm, and her intellectual gifts were insufficient to -save her. No less regal in endowment than was Hester Prynne, she sank -under a burden infinitely lighter than Hester’s. Her nature was strong -but impulsive, and impulsiveness was Zenobia’s ruin. - -Rome is the scene of _The Marble Faun_, the longest of Hawthorne’s -romances, and in his opinion the best. The author professed to have -seen, in the studio of an American sculptor, Kenyon, an unfinished -portrait bust, certain traits of which led him to ask the history of -the original. This face, of a beautiful youth, might have been mistaken -for a not fortunate attempt to reproduce the roguish countenance -of the Faun of Praxiteles. The resemblance was external merely; the -beholder presently detected something inscrutable in the eyes, in -the whole expression, as if powers of the soul hitherto dormant were -awaking, and with the awakening had come anxiety, longing, grief, -remorse, in short a knowledge of good through a sudden apprehension of -evil. - -It was the portrait of a young Count of Monte Beni (known as -Donatello), whose family, an ancient one, was believed to have sprung -from the union of one of those fabled woodland creatures, half -animal, half god, and an earthly maiden. At long intervals the traits -defining the origin of the race were accentuated in a member of the -family. He was said to be ‘true Monte Beni.’ He lived on the border -line between two worlds, fearless and happy, but also unthinking, a -creature incapable of doing wrong because his life was free, natural, -instinctive. Such was Donatello. - -The idea of a creature who should unite the characteristics of the wild -and the human fascinated Hawthorne. The charm is elusive, and must be -elusive or it is no longer charming. Hawthorne warns us against letting -the idea harden in our grasp or grow coarse from handling. For this -reason (and not for the sake of petty mystification) Hawthorne will not -disclose the one physical trait which would have completed Donatello’s -resemblance to the Faun, the pointed, furry ears. The youth himself -will jest with his friends on the subject, but no more; the thick brown -curls are never brushed aside. - -So in Donatello’s attachment to Miriam, the mysterious beauty of the -story, there is something animal-like, at once pathetic and fierce. -Love does not awaken the intellect, however; the youth remains a child -until the wrathful moment when he holds the mad Capuchin, Miriam’s -persecutor, over the edge of the precipice, and reads in the girl’s -consenting eyes approval of the deed he is about to commit. At this -point Donatello’s real life begins. - -The crime is far-reaching in its consequences, blighting for weary -months the happiness of the gentle Hilda, a terrified eye-witness; -but is most sinister in its effect on Donatello, whose dumb agony and -remorse Hawthorne has painted with a strong but subdued touch. Perhaps -the most striking of the incidents at Monte Beni is that where the -wretched Donatello tries to call the wild creatures of the wood to him -as he had been used to do in the days of his innocence, and finds his -power gone, only some loathsome reptile coming at his bidding. - -Hilda is one of the triumphs of Hawthorne’s art. By what necromancy did -he contrive to invest a character so ethereal with life and interest? -For the type is by no means one that invariably attracts, and the -mere symbolism of the shrine, the doves, together with an innocence -which carries its own safeguard, might have been used unsuccessfully a -thousand times before being wrought by Hawthorne’s subtile power into -enduring form. - -Kenyon is a proof of the instinct Hawthorne had for avoiding the -realistic fact. One would fancy this a character which would take on -realism of its own accord, a character which could be depended on to -become human and bohemian, to smoke, swear, tell emphatic stories, and -yet be gentle and high-minded withal, like Bret Harte’s angel-miners. -But Kenyon is almost as shadowy as Hilda. - -Miriam with her rich dark beauty (making her in contrast with Hilda as -Night to Day) is the one strong human character, capable of infinite -pity and infinite devotion, a woman to die for--if the need were, and -such need is not uncommon in romances. The shadow of a nameless crime -hangs over her, from which, though innocent, she cannot escape. She -has warned Donatello of the fatality that attends her. She holds his -love in esteem so light as to be almost contempt until the moment when -he shows the force to grapple with her enemy; then love flames up in -her own heart. For her Donatello stains his hands with blood, suffers -agony indescribable, and then ‘comes back to his original self, with an -inestimable treasure of improvement won from an experience of pain.’ -And as Miriam contemplates him on the day before he gives himself up -to justice, she asks whether the story of the fall of man has not been -repeated in the romance of Monte Beni. - -The deficiencies and excesses of _The Marble Faun_ have been often -pointed out. The superabundance of guide-book description which -disturbed Sir Leslie Stephen was noted by Hawthorne as a defect and -apologized for in the preface. It is astonishing how it fits into place -when, after an interval of several years, one comes to re-read the -story. _The Marble Faun_ is a magical piece of work, its very enigmas, -mysteries, and its inconclusiveness tending to heighten the effect. And -it does not in the least detract from the enjoyment that one cannot -follow the author to the extent of believing it his best work. - - -VI - -LATEST AND POSTHUMOUS WRITINGS - -_OUR OLD HOME_, _NOTE-BOOKS_, _DOLLIVER ROMANCE_ - -_Our Old Home_ is a volume of twelve chapters on English life and -experiences. Acute, frank, sympathetic, modestly phrased, abounding -in humor, it may fairly be accounted one of the best of Hawthorne’s -works. The English are said to have been disturbed by a number of the -comments on their character and manners. If so, they must be as touchy -as Americans. _Our Old Home_ contains nothing that should offend, -unless indeed it be an offence to speak of one’s neighbor in any terms -not those of unmitigated eulogy. Hawthorne noted certain differences -between the national types of the two countries and gave an account of -them. But of any disposition to laud his own people at the expense of -their British cousins, the book contains not a trace. - -_Passages from the English Note-Books of Nathaniel Hawthorne_ is the -raw material out of which was fashioned such a charming and perfect -literary study as _Our Old Home_. It is idle to dispute over the -question whether the fragmentary journalizings of an eminent author -should or should not be given to the public. They will always be given -to the public, and the public will always be grateful for them, even -though it has no deeper cause for gratitude than that involved in -satisfaction of mere curiosity. At all events, the passion for looking -into the work-shop of a great artist cannot be overcome. Perhaps this -most trivial form of hero-worship deserves countenance. - -The _Note-Books_ (English, Italian, and American) bear the same -relation to _Our Old Home_ that a man talking with his most trusted -friend bears to that same man when talking with an agreeable chance -acquaintance. In the one case he is wholly unguarded, in the other he -keeps himself in check even at the moment he seems most frank and -expansive. - -_The Dolliver Romance_ is one of a group of studies for an elaborate -narrative in which Hawthorne proposed to trace the fortunes of an -American family back to those of its English forebears. The idea of -connecting the obscure New England branch of the house with the proud -Old-World descendants by some vague claim on the ancestral estate is -almost too common in fiction. But Hawthorne seems to have been drawn -towards it by his life in the consulate at Liverpool, where he had -continually to check the exuberance of misguided fellow-countrymen who -had appropriated, in mind, not a few of the finest estates in England, -and only lacked faint encouragement to attempt entering on actual -possession. - -The idea of the Bloody Footstep was taken from a tradition connected -with Smithell’s Hall in Bolton-le-Moors, and Hawthorne went to see -what purported to be the mark made in the stone step by the unhappy -man about whose mysterious history the romance gathers. The quest and -discovery of an elixir of life is in itself a threadbare motive, but -could hardly have been commonplace under Hawthorne’s treatment. - -He was not to complete his design. The four versions of the story, _The -Dolliver Romance_, _The Ancestral Footstep_, _Septimius Felton_, and -_Doctor Grimshawe’s Secret_, furnish another glimpse into Hawthorne’s -literary studio, though we are warned not to infer that he always -worked in the way the existence of these fragments might suggest. - - * * * * * - -Hawthorne was the most gifted of our American romancers. In a certain -sense his field was a narrow one, but the soil was rich, and there -was magic in his husbandry. He himself once declared that he never -knew what patriotism was until he met an Englishman; that he was not -an American, New England was as big a lump of earth as he could hold -in his heart. The defect (if indeed it be a defect) was one of the -sources of his power. Hawthorne did indeed love New England, but to -suppose that he loved it with a blind and uncritical love is wholly -to misunderstand both the man and his work. He was the genius of his -little world. He knew its poetry and its prose, its mystery, charm, -beauty, and its repellent and sordid features. New England will have -no profounder interpreter, though it may be that as the superficial -characteristics of the people change, his transcripts of life will -increasingly take on the qualities of pure romance. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [38] Enlarged edition, 1854. - - [39] Published in England under the absurd title of - _Transformation_. Hawthorne wrote to Henry Bright: ‘Smith and - Elder do take strange liberties with the titles of books. I - wanted to call it the _Marble Faun_, but they insisted on - _Transformation_ which will lead the reader to expect a sort - of pantomime.’ - - [40] Letter to Horatio Bridge, May 26, 1861. - - [41] Henry James: _Terminations_. - - - - -XI - -_Henry David Thoreau_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =R. W. Emerson=: ‘Thoreau’ in the ‘Atlantic Monthly,’ August, - 1862. - - =W. E. Channing=: _Thoreau: the Poet Naturalist_, 1873. - - =F. B. Sanborn=: _Thoreau_, ‘American Men of Letters,’ 1882. - - =H. S. Salt=: _Thoreau_, ‘Great Writers,’ 1896. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -Philippe Thoreau, of the parish of Saint Helier in the Isle of Jersey, -had a son John who emigrated to America and opened a store on the -Long Wharf in Boston. He married Jane Burns, daughter of a well-to-do -Scotchman from the neighborhood of Stirling. John’s son John, a -lead-pencil maker of Concord, Massachusetts, married Cynthia Dunbar, -daughter of the Reverend Asa Dunbar, of Keene, New Hampshire. Of their -four children Henry David Thoreau, the author of _Walden_, was the -third. He was born at Concord on July 12, 1817. - -After his graduation at Harvard in the Class of 1837, Thoreau taught -school, learned surveying and the art of making lead-pencils, and began -writing and lecturing. The episode in his life which gave him more -than a local reputation was his camping out by the shore of Walden -Pond. He spent two years and two months there studying how ‘to live -deliberately.’ His hut, built by himself, might have seemed bare and -cheerless to a victim of civilization. There was no carpet on the -floor, no curtain at the window. Every superfluity was stripped off and -life ‘driven into a corner’ in the hope of discovering what it was made -of. Thoreau sturdily resisted the efforts of friends and neighbors to -burden him with trumpery, refusing the gift of a door-mat on the plea -that it was ‘best to avoid the beginnings of evil,’ and throwing a -paper-weight out of the window ‘because it had to be dusted every day.’ - -He raised his own vegetables in a patch of ground near by, made his -own bread, and spent his leisure time in recording his observations -of nature and in writing his first book, _A Week on the Concord and -Merrimack Rivers_. When he was satisfied with this taste of life -‘reduced to its lowest terms,’ he went back to civilization. - -_A Week on the Concord and Merrimack_ was a failure, as publishers say; -meaning that it did not sell. Having published at his own expense, -Thoreau was financially embarrassed when seven hundred and fifty -copies of an edition of a thousand came back on his hands. He said to -a friend: ‘I have added several hundred volumes to my library lately, -all of my own composition.’[42] His second venture, _Walden_, was -more fortunate. He printed a few articles in the ‘Boston Miscellany,’ -‘Putnam’s Magazine,’ the ‘New York Tribune,’ ‘Graham’s Magazine,’ and -the ‘Atlantic Monthly,’ but at no time could he be said to live by -literature. - -His income from his lectures must have been small, and apparently -he made no effort to obtain engagements. He had an exalted idea of -what constitutes a good lecture, and was suspicious of oratory. He -told his English acquaintance Cholmondeley that he was from time to -time congratulating himself on his ‘general want of success as a -lecturer.... I do my work clean as I go along, and they will not be -likely to want me anywhere again.’ - -When Hawthorne was corresponding secretary of the Salem Lyceum, he -invited Thoreau in behalf of the managers to give them a lecture. The -invitation was accepted. The lecture must have had the fatal defect of -being ‘interesting,’ for Thoreau was asked to speak before the Lyceum a -second time the same winter. - -Thoreau was a radical Abolitionist and for six years refused to pay his -poll-tax, on the ground that the tax went indirectly to the support -of slavery. For this delinquency he was once lodged in the town-jail -over night. In 1857 he made the acquaintance of ‘one John Brown’ as -a Southern-born president of a Northern college naïvely describes -that terrible old man. When two years later news came of the desperate -attempt at Harper’s Ferry, Thoreau gave in a church vestry at Concord -his impassioned ‘Plea for Captain John Brown,’ which one of his -admirers regards as the most significant of his utterances. - -Of the twelve volumes forming his collected writings two only were -seen by Thoreau in book form. The remaining ten have been made up of -reprinted magazine articles or selections from journals and letters. -The list is as follows: _A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers_, -1849; _Walden; or, Life in the Woods_, 1854; _Excursions_ (edited by -R. W. Emerson and Sophia Thoreau), 1863; _The Maine Woods_, 1864; _Cape -Cod_, 1865; _Letters to Various Persons_ [with Poems], 1865; _A Yankee -in Canada, with Anti-Slavery and Reform Papers_, 1866; _Early Spring in -Massachusetts_, 1881; _Summer_, 1884; _Winter_, 1888; _Autumn_, 1892; -_Miscellanies_, 1894; _Familiar Letters of Henry David Thoreau_, 1894. - -Thoreau ‘travelled widely’ in Concord and made a few trips elsewhere. -Aside from his excursions to the Maine woods, the White Mountains, Cape -Cod, and Staten Island, he took no long journey until 1861, when he -went as far west as Minnesota. He was in ill health then, and a violent -cold terminating in pulmonary consumption brought about his death (May -6, 1862). It has been often mentioned as a strange fact that this -man who almost symbolized the out-of-door existence, who chanted its -praises, and who was unhappy unless he had at least ‘four hours a day -in the woods and fields,’ should have died, at the age of forty-five, -of exposure to the elements which (according to his whimsical -philosophy) were more friendly than man. - - -II - -THOREAU’S CHARACTER - -Without posing, Thoreau contrived somehow to gain the reputation of a -poseur. Because his nose was more Emersonian than Emerson’s, because -he lived for a time at Emerson’s house (where he was beloved by every -member of the family), and because he affected the Orphic and seer-like -mode of expression, he was called an imitator. Because he was a recluse -and a stoic, and because his letters were edited in a way to emphasize -his stoicism, he has been thought to lack the human and friendly -qualities. - -The charge of imitation has been refuted by those who knew him best. -‘Doubtless his growth was stimulated by kindred ideas. This is all that -can be granted. Utter independence, strong individuality distinguished -him. His one foible was, not subserviency, but combativeness, mainly -from mere love of fence when he found a worthy adversary, as his best -friends knew almost too well.’[43] - -In many ways Thoreau was much like other men. He was a devoted son, a -brotherly brother, a helpful neighbor, a genial companion. We have his -own word for it that he could out-sit the longest sitter in the village -tap-room if there were occasion. - -On the other hand, he was not ‘approachable’ in the common meaning -of the word. He puzzled many people. He could be angular, stiff, -remote, encrusted. Howells saw him in 1860, ‘a quaint stump figure of -a man.’[44] He sat on one side of the room, having first placed his -visitor in a chair on the other side. It was more difficult to get near -him spiritually than physically. He seemed almost unconscious of his -caller’s presence. - -Emerson edited Thoreau’s letters so as to present ‘a most perfect piece -of stoicism.’ It was the side of his friend’s character in which he -most rejoiced. The book should be read exactly as Emerson intended it -to be read. Later it should be supplemented by the _Familiar Letters_, -which brings into relief the affectionate and winning side of Thoreau’s -character. - - -III - -THE WRITER - -Thoreau was a painstaking student of the art of expression, but never -for its own sake, always as a means to an end. One may conclude that -it was not mere author’s vanity which led him to resent editorial -tampering with his manuscript. He had good reasons for believing that -neither Curtis of ‘Putnam’s’ nor Lowell of ‘The Atlantic’ could change -his text to advantage. The question was not one of mere nicety of -phrase, but of that subtile quality of style due to the inextricable -interweaving of the thought and the language in which the thought is -expressed. - -An out-of-doors writer, Thoreau’s power to produce was in direct ratio -of his intercourse with Nature. If shut up in the house he could not -write at all. When he walked he stored up literary virtue. He believed -that nothing was so good for the man of letters as work with the hands. -It cleared the style of ‘palaver and sentimentality.’ - -The fresh wild beauty of Thoreau’s style (when he is at his best) may -be praised without reserve. There is no danger of exaggerating its -perfect novelty and attractiveness; the danger is that we may take the -hint of these qualities for the reality. Thoreau could be commonplace -when he chose. - - -IV - -THE BOOKS - -Early in September, 1839, the Thoreau brothers, John and Henry, made a -voyage down the Concord and Merrimac rivers. The boat used was of their -own building. It was painted blue and green, had wheels by which it -could be dragged around the dams, and must have been as ugly as it was -useful. _A Week on the Concord and Merrimack_ records the unadventurous -adventures of the two young men both on this and other excursions. - -It is a medley of prose and verse, of homely common-sense and lofty -speculation. Side by side with realistic portraits of plain people, -farmers, fishermen, boatmen, and lock-keepers, are minute and exquisite -descriptions of the life of field, mountain, stream, lake, and air. -The literary allusions are many, and taken from sources as wide apart -as the poles, Shattuck (the historian of Concord) and Anacreon, Gookin -and Chaucer. Here is to be found the famous essay on Friendship, the -spirit of which may be partly divined from this sentence: ‘I could tame -a hyena more easily than my friend.’ - -The poetry in the volume is a stumbling-block to not a few readers. -Doubtless it has its virtues, but too often Thoreau’s poetry must be -forgiven for the sake of his prose. The stiff, almost self-conscious -air of _A Week on the Concord and Merrimack_ and the hobbling verse -help to explain the indifference of the author’s contemporaries to a -very original work. - -_Walden_, the second of Thoreau’s books, is the better of the two, -which does not mean that the first could be spared. The style is -easier, the flavor more racy, the spirit more humorous. The attitude of -the writer is characteristically provoking and pugnacious. The chapters -abound in audacities which at once pique and delight the reader. -This modern Diogenes-Crusoe, solving the problem of existence on an -improvised desert-island two miles from his mother’s door-step, is a -refreshing figure. - -Life in the woods fascinated Thoreau. _Walden_ is a tribute to this -fascination. In the absence of domestic sounds he had the murmur of the -forest, the cry of the loon, the ‘tronk’ of the frog, and the clangor -of the wild-goose. Society was plenty and of the best. His neighbors -were the squirrel, the field-mouse, the phœbe, the blue jay. Human -companionship was not wanting, for there were visitors of all sorts, -from the half-witted to those who had more wits than they knew what to -do with. Matter-of-fact people were amazed at the young man’s way of -living, lacking the penetration to see that he might live as he did -from the humor of it. When sceptics asked him whether he thought he -could subsist on vegetable food alone, Thoreau, to strike at the root -of the matter at once, was accustomed to say that he ‘could live on -board nails.’ ‘If they cannot understand that they cannot understand -much that I say.’ - -The Walden episode was an experiment in emancipation, and the book is a -challenge to mankind to live more simply and freely. Thoreau mocks at -the worship of luxury. ‘I would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all -to myself than be crowded on a velvet cushion. I would rather ride on -earth in an ox-cart, with a free circulation, than go to heaven in the -fancy car of an excursion train and breathe a malaria all the way.’ - -_Excursions_ is a collection of nine essays. Some of them are formal -and scientific with the Thoreau-esque flavor (‘Natural History of -Massachusetts,’ ‘The Succession of Forest Trees,’ ‘Autumnal Tints,’ -‘Wild Apples’), others are pure Thoreau (‘A Walk to Wachusett,’ ‘The -Landlord,’ ‘A Winter Walk,’ ‘Walking,’ ‘Night and Moonlight’). The -flavor of these ‘wildlings of literature,’ as a devotee happily calls -them, is as marked almost as that of _Walden_. They are, in fact, -_Walden_ in miniature. - -The _Maine Woods_ consists of three long essays, ‘Ktaadn,’ -‘Chesuncook,’ and ‘The Allegash and East Branch.’ They are readable, -informing, uninspired. In the degree in which he left himself out of -his pages Thoreau became as tame and conventional as the most academic -of writers. The strength of some men of letters lies in conformity. -Thoreau is strongest in non-conformity. - -_Cape Cod_ is far more characteristic than the _Maine Woods_. He who -likes the savor of salt and the tonic of ocean air will enjoy this book -whether he cares for Thoreau or not. It is interesting as an early -contribution to the history of Cape Cod folks by a historian who was -more of an enigma to the natives than they were to him. - -The best part of _A Yankee in Canada_ is not to be found in the -account of the excursion to Montreal and Quebec, but in the sheaf of -anti-slavery and reform papers bound up in the same volume. Here are -printed the address on ‘Slavery in Massachusetts,’ the paper on ‘Civil -Disobedience,’ containing the lively account of the author’s experience -in Concord jail, the two addresses on John Brown, the essay on ‘Life -without Principle,’ and the critical study of ‘Thomas Carlyle and his -Works.’ - -The four volumes named for the seasons are valuable for the light -they shed on Thoreau’s method as a writer, and his skill and accuracy -in reporting the facts of Nature. They are sure to be read by the -faithful, because the genuine Thoreau enthusiast can read his every -line. The rest of the world will be content to know him by two or three -of the twelve volumes bearing his name. _A Week on the Concord and -Merrimack Rivers, alden_, the _Familiar Letters_, and a few essays -from _Excursions_ and the Anti-Slavery papers ought to be sufficient. - - * * * * * - -No more than greater men of letters can Thoreau be disposed of in a -paragraph. Some of his pronounced characteristics can be, however. - -He was a paradoxical philosopher. To praise Nature at the expense of -civilized society, to eulogize the ‘perfection’ of the one and lament -the degradation of the other, to declare solemnly that church spires -deform the landscape, and that it is a mistake to do a second time -what has been done once,--these declarations give a wholly incomplete -but, so far as they go, not unjust idea of his manner. Taking Thoreau -literally is a capital way to breed a dislike for him. Grant him -his own manner of expressing his thought, make no effort to exact -conformity from so wayward a genius, and at once you are, as Walt -Whitman would say, ‘rapport’ with him. It is easy to exaggerate his -paradoxicalness. Say to yourself as you take up the volume: ‘Now let -us find out just how whimsical this fellow can be,’ and straightway he -disappoints by not being whimsical at all. - -If Thoreau’s praise of Nature at the expense of Society seems to -border on the absurd, one must bear in mind how complete and intimate -was his knowledge of what he praised. His love of forest, lake, hill, -and mountain, of beast and bird, was deep, passionate, unremitting. -He speaks somewhere of an old man so versed in Nature’s ways that -apparently ‘there were no secrets between them.’ This might have been -said of Thoreau himself. He could pay lofty tributes to the ‘mystical’ -quality in Nature; but he was not a mere rhapsodist, a petty village -Chateaubriand; he could come straight down to tangible facts and -recount every detail of the advent of spring at Walden. His power to -see and his skill in describing the thing seen unite to give the very -atmosphere of life in the woods. - -He was himself so complete an original and his literary attractiveness -is such that Thoreau numbers among his best friends not only those who -are nature-blind but the confirmed city-men as well, the frequenters -of clubs, the lovers of pavements and crowds. That some of the most -appreciative tributes to his genius should have come from these is but -one paradox the more in the history of him who (at times) delighted -above all else in the paradoxical. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [42] F. B. Sanborn: _The Personality of Thoreau_, p. 30. - - [43] Edward W. Emerson in the ‘Centenary’ Emerson, vol. x, p. 607. - - [44] _Literary Friends and Acquaintance_, p. 59. - - - - -XII - -_Oliver Wendell Holmes_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =W. Sloane Kennedy=: _Oliver Wendell Holmes_, 1883. - - =J. T. Morse, Jr.=: _Life and Letters of Oliver Wendell Holmes_, - 1896. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -Holmes invented a phrase which became celebrated--‘the Brahmin caste of -New England,’ that is to say, an aristocracy of culture. The inventor -of the phrase belonged to the class. He was a son of the Reverend Abiel -Holmes, minister of the First Church of Cambridge and author of that -‘painstaking and careful work,’ the _American Annals_. - -Abiel Holmes (a great-grandson of John Holmes, one of the settlers of -Woodstock, Connecticut) was twice married. His first wife was Mary -Stiles, daughter of President Ezra Stiles of Yale College. Five years -after her death he married Sarah Wendell of Boston, who became the -mother of Oliver Wendell Holmes. Through the Wendells, Holmes was -related by one line of descent to Anne Bradstreet; by another to Evert -Jansen Wendell of Albany. - -The author of _The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table_ was born at -Cambridge, Massachusetts, on Harvard Commencement Day, August 29, 1809. -After a preliminary training at the Cambridgeport Academy (where he -had for schoolmates Margaret Fuller and Richard Henry Dana) Holmes -completed his college preparation at Phillips Academy, Andover, entered -Harvard in the class of 1829, and in due time was graduated. - -He had, or thought he had, an inclination to carry the ‘green bag,’ -and to this end spent a year at the Dane (now Harvard) Law School, in -Cambridge. He soon discovered a greater inclination towards medicine -and entered the private medical school of Doctor James Jackson, in -Boston. In 1833 he became a student at the École de Médecine in Paris, -and during two busy winters heard the lectures of Broussais, Andral, -Louis, and other teachers. - -In 1836 he began the practice of medicine in Boston. During the two -following years he competed for and won four of the Boylston Prizes. -Enthusiastic in his profession, he found the life of a general -practitioner not to his liking, and when, in 1838, the professorship -of anatomy and physiology at Dartmouth College was offered him, he -was ‘mightily pleased.’ He held the position for two years (1839–40); -residence at Hanover was required for three months of each year. - -Some time before going to Hanover, Holmes was writing to his friend -Phineas Barnes, congratulating him on having entered into ‘the beatific -state of duality,’ and wishing himself in like case. ‘I have flirted -and written poetry long enough,’ he said, ‘and I feel that I am growing -domestic and tabby-ish.’ On June 15, 1840, he married Miss Amelia -Jackson, a daughter of Judge Charles Jackson of Boston. She was a young -woman of rare endowments. ‘Every estimable and attractive quality of -mind and character seemed to be hers.’[45] - -In 1847 Holmes was appointed Parkman professor of anatomy and -physiology in the Harvard Medical School. The multifarious extra cares -involved led him to say that in those early days he occupied not a -chair in the college but a settee. He held the position for thirty-five -consecutive years. - -The reputation which Holmes began early to build up through his -writings was partly literary, partly scientific, partly a compound -of both. Lovers of well-turned and witty verse knew him through his -_Poems_ (1836) and his metrical essays, _Urania_ (1846) and _Astræa_ -(1850). The public, always solicitous about its health, heard or -read the two lectures on _Homœopathy and its kindred Delusions_ -(1842). Physicians made his acquaintance through the _Boylston Prize -Dissertations_ (1836–37), and the _Essay on the Contagiousness of -Puerperal Fever_ (1843). - -Fame came to Holmes in 1857 when he began printing in the newly founded -‘Atlantic Monthly’ a series of papers entitled _The Autocrat of the -Breakfast-Table_. Reprinted as a book, it at once took its proper place -as an American classic, and now after forty-eight years its popularity -seems in no degree lessened. - -The following list contains the principal works upon which Holmes’s -reputation as a man of letters rests. A full bibliography must be -consulted if one would know the extent of his literary and scientific -activity: _The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table_, 1858; _The Professor -at the Breakfast-Table_, 1860; _Currents and Counter-Currents, with -Other Addresses_, 1861; _Elsie Venner_, 1861; _Songs in Many Keys_, -1862; _Soundings from the Atlantic_, 1864; _The Guardian Angel_, 1867; -_The Poet at the Breakfast-Table_, 1872; _Songs of Many Seasons_, 1875; -_Memoir of John Lothrop Motley_, 1879; _The Iron Gate and Other Poems_, -1880; _Pages from an Old Volume of Life_, 1883; _A Mortal Antipathy_, -1885; _Ralph Waldo Emerson_, 1885; _Our Hundred Days in Europe_, 1887; -_Before the Curfew and Other Poems_, 1888; _Over the Teacups_, 1891. - -Holmes’s life was without marked incident. His work at the Medical -School, his public lectures, social engagements, the normal and -agreeable responsibilities of home and society, filled the measure of -his days. The visit to England in 1886, when he was made a D. C. L. -by Oxford, a Litt. D. by Cambridge, and an LL. D. by Edinburgh, was -something like apotheosis, if the term be not too extravagant. - -He endured the evils consequent on old age with philosophic composure, -and it became at the last a matter of scientific curiosity with him to -see how long he could maintain life. He was spared a tedious illness, -and died an almost painless death on October 7, 1894. - - -II - -THE MAN - -Among the ‘Autocrat’s’ distinguishing traits was humanity. He has -recorded the feeling of ‘awe-stricken sympathy’ at first sight of the -white faces of the sick in the hospital wards. ‘The dreadful scenes in -the operating theatre--for this was before the days of ether--were a -great shock to my sensibilities.’ His nerves hardened in time, but he -was always keenly alive to human suffering. There is a note of contempt -in his reference to Lisfranc, the surgeon, who ‘regretted the splendid -guardsmen of the Empire because they had such magnificent thighs to -amputate.’ - -It was once said of Holmes that he was difficult to catch unless -he were wanted for some kind act. He lost no opportunity to give -happiness. In old age when flattery was tedious, and blindness -imminent, and the autograph hunter had become a burden, he patiently -wrote his name and transcribed stanzas of ‘Dorothy Q.’ or ‘The Last -Leaf’ for admirers from all parts of the earth. This was the smallest -tax on his good nature. For years he had been expected to act as -counsel and sometimes as literary agent for all the minor poets of -America. Many of these innocents conceived Holmes as automatically -issuing certificates to the virtue of their work. He was always kind -and invariably plain-spoken. To the author of an epic he wrote: ‘I -cannot conscientiously advise you to print your poem; it will be -an expense to you, and the gain to your reputation will not be an -equivalent.’ - -Holmes believed in the humanizing influences of good blood, social -position, and wealth. It was no small matter, he thought, to have a -descent from men who had played their parts acceptably in the drama -of life. He preferred the man with the ‘family portraits’ to the man -with the ‘twenty-cent daguerreotype’ unless he had reason to believe -that the latter was the better man of the two. His amusing poem, -‘Contentment,’ is not a jest, but a plain statement of his philosophy. - -Open-minded in literary and scientific matters, he was delightfully -conservative about places. He respected the country and loved the -town. A city man, he was also a man of one city. He professed to have -been the discoverer of Myrtle Street, the abode of ‘peace and beauty, -and virtue, and serene old age.’ Thus it looked to him as he explored -its ‘western extremity of sunny courts and passages.’ Holmes’s books -contain many proofs of his cat-like attachment to city nooks and -corners, his liking for odd streets, unexpected turns, and winding -ways. ‘I have bored this ancient city through and through, until I know -it as an old inhabitant of a Cheshire knows his cheese.’ - -Holmes enjoyed above all the sense of an undisturbed possession of -things. He complained of the march of modern improvement only when he -found himself improved out of one house and driven to take refuge in -another. He thought that a wretched state of affairs whereby a man was -compelled to move every twenty or thirty years. - -With his sunny nature Holmes found it difficult to be a good hater. He -had but two violent antipathies, Calvinism and homœopathy. On these he -concentrated the little measure of asperity he possessed, together with -a large measure of vigorous logic and frank contempt. - - -III - -THE WRITER - -In his characteristic prose style Holmes is easy, familiar, off-hand, -in short, conversational. He may have spent hours over his paragraphs, -but with their air of unpremeditation they give no sign of it. The -manner of his prose is well-bred but nonchalant. Yet there is always a -note of reserve. The Autocrat is less familiar than he seems. - -The conversational style permits abrupt turns, sudden transitions, -a pleasant negligence. It also has narrow limits; it cannot rise to -eloquence, and fine writing is apt to seem out of place. Holmes knew -pretty accurately the limits of his instrument. - -Like other practised writers, he varied his style to fit his subject. -And while a certain winsomeness is never wanting, it is less -apparent in the novels than in the ‘Breakfast-Table’ books, and in -the biographies than in the novels. Often he becomes business-like, -extremely matter of fact, clearly determined to make his point or to -solve his problem without waste of words or superfluous ornament. - -With respect to his verse we have been told that Holmes was a -‘consummate master of all that is harmonious, graceful, and pleasing in -rhythm and in language.’ Had the eulogist been speaking of Tennyson, -or Swinburne, or Shelley, he could have said little more. Holmes’s -verse is neat, precise, felicitous, often graceful, unmistakably -clever, abounding in pointed phrase and happy rhyme, but taken as a -whole it must be adjudged the poetry of a cultivated gentleman and a -wit rather than the poetry of a poet. - -Much of it has a distinctly old-fashioned air, contrasting oddly -with the freshness and ‘modernity’ of the poet’s prose. In his own -phrase Holmes ‘was trained after the schools of classical English -verse as represented by Pope, Goldsmith, and Campbell.’ The metrical -essays (_Poetry_, _Astræa_, _Urania_) show how strong was the -Eighteenth-century influence. The choice of metre cannot be questioned. -If audiences will have poetic dissertations, they probably suffer least -under the heroic couplet. It is easy to comprehend, and not difficult -to write; and the form of the verse tempts to cleverness. - - -IV - -_THE AUTOCRAT_ AND ITS COMPANIONS, _OVER THE TEACUPS_, _OUR HUNDRED -DAYS IN EUROPE_ - -The motto, ‘Every man his own Boswell,’ on the title-page of _The -Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table_, is a key to the book. The conceit -has merits besides that of novelty. There is a world of humorous -suggestion in the idea of ‘doubling’ the parts of philosophic wit and -worshipping reporter. - -The scene is a Boston boarding-house with its more or less commonplace -people, the landlady, her daughter, her son Benjamin Franklin, the -young fellow called John, the old gentleman who sits opposite, the -poor relation, the divinity student, the schoolmistress, and the -Autocrat himself. They talk, listen, jest, laugh. Little by little the -commonplace characters grow attractive. Pleasant and lovable traits -come to light. There is pathos, sentiment, a deal of mirth, but little -action. The Autocrat marries the schoolmistress towards the close of -the book. So much likeness is there to an old-fashioned love story, and -no more. - -In general the characters interest less for what they say than for -what they prompt the Autocrat to say. He says many things, and all so -wise, so entertaining, so clever. When Holmes threw off these sparkling -paragraphs month by month, he could have had little idea what the index -would reveal. He glances from subject to subject, touching lightly -here and lightly there. Poetry, pugilism, horse-racing, theology, and -tree-lore are all equally interesting to him and to us. The reader is -not too long detained by any one thing. An infinite number of topics -are handled with effervescent gayety in a manner sometimes called -‘French.’ Holmes accused Emerson of want of logical sequence. That -was a master stroke. Open a volume of the Breakfast-Table series at -random and you chance on the oddest combinations of subjects, as -when a paragraph on insanity is followed by a paragraph on private -theatricals--perhaps a less illogical juxtaposition than at first sight -appears. Waywardness and inconsequence are among the principal charms -of _The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table_. - -That a book so distinctively local in atmosphere and allusion should -have attained at once and kept to this day widespread popularity is a -little surprising. For local it is--provincial, as New Yorkers would -say. At all events, it is Bostonian to the last degree. The little -city, compact and picturesque, was not merely the background, the scene -of the breakfast-table episodes and conversations; the entire volume is -saturated with the atmosphere of Boston. To Holmes it was the one city -worth while, the city whose State House was Hub of the Solar System. By -his testimony (and who should know better?) you could not pry that out -of a Boston man if you had the tire of all creation straightened out -for a crowbar. - -The _Autocrat_ was followed by the _Professor_ and the _Poet_. The -critical history of sequels is well known. Seldom a complete failure, -they are rarely an unqualified success. Yet it is not easy to see -wherein _The Professor at the Breakfast-Table_ falls much below _The -Autocrat_. The book would be justified were it only for the pathetic -figure of Little Boston, to say nothing of Iris, the young Marylander, -the Model of all the Virtues, and the Koh-i-noor. It is something, -too, to have seen the landlady’s daughter appropriately wedded to an -undertaker, and the young fellow called John also married, and in -possession of ‘one of them little articles’ for which he had longed in -the days of bachelorhood, to wit, a boy of his own. - -_The Poet at the Breakfast-Table_, a storehouse of delightful -inventions, proved the least attractive of the three to the public. -But all of Holmes’s old-time skill returned when he wrote _Over the -Teacups_, his last book. The framework is simple but attractive, the -characters have genuine vitality and pique the reader by suggesting -that they must have been drawn from life. The Dictator is an old -friend. Number Five, the Tutor, the Counsellor, the two Annexes, Number -Seven, the Mistress and Delilah are agreeable acquaintances, and the -misfortune is ours if we do not know them as well as the figures of -_The Autocrat_. - -All these books are personal, known as such, and deriving half their -charm from the reader’s ability to recognize Holmes himself under -various disguises. In _Our Hundred Days in Europe_ the author speaks -_in propria persona_, and the volume may be described as a big printed -letter addressed to the writer’s friends, who, loving him as they do, -will rejoice in his happiness and his triumphs. - - -V - -THE POET - -The Autocrat’s poetical works contain a generous measure of what -elderly bards call their ‘juvenilia.’ We all understand the term. It -means verses which the bards in question would gladly have left in the -solitude of old magazines, and which admirers insist on dragging into -light,--poems that help to stock the school readers and speakers, and -which, because the copyright has expired by the unjust law of the land, -compilers of anthologies seize on and parade as representative. - -That Holmes suffers but little by the persistence of his ‘juvenilia’ -and ‘early verses’ is due to their frankly comic and grotesque -character. The reader is spared faded sentiment, and he is heartily -amused by the ingenuity of the conceits, the sparkle of the rhymes, the -satire, the epigrammatic wit. There is mirth still in that brilliant -essay in verbal gymnastics ‘The Comet’ (a dyspeptic’s dream), in ‘The -September Gale’ (a boy’s lament for his Sunday breeches, blown from -the line one fatal wash-day and never recovered), in ‘The Spectre Pig’ -(a parody on Dana’s ‘Buccaneer’), in ‘The Height of the Ridiculous,’ -‘Daily Trials,’ ‘The Treadmill Song,’ ‘The Dorchester Giant,’ ‘The -Music-Grinders,’ and the heartlessly funny poem entitled ‘My Aunt.’ - -Holmes was the readiest and the happiest of ‘occasional’ poets. No one -was so apt as he in meeting the needs of the moment, in brightening -with rhymed felicities the banquet, the class reunion, or in greeting -the distinguished stranger. He had rare skill in fitting the word -to the audience; it was impossible for him to be dull, and being -good-humored, it was difficult for him to say ‘No’ when committees were -importunate. Of his three hundred and twenty-seven poems, nearly one -half are poems of occasion. He wrote the greeting to Charles Dickens, -to the Prince Imperial, a poem for the Moore celebration, for the -dedication of the Stratford Fountain, for the two hundred and fiftieth -anniversary of the founding of Harvard College. His poems for the Class -of 1829, forty-four in number, reflect the history of the times as -well as the mood of the writer. The most famous of them is ‘The Boys’ -(1859). Its motive, that boy-nature never quite dies in the man, and -its defiant optimism were calculated to have rejuvenating effect on a -group of classmates then thirty years out of college. - -This art requires a quality of mind akin to that of the improvisatore. -Holmes was Boston’s poet laureate. His power to put an idea into -self-singing measure saved the battle-ship ‘Constitution,’ and did much -to save the ‘Old South’ Church. - -In his finer work there is a delicious blending of thoughtfulness and -humorous fancy. Only Holmes could have given the lines on ‘Dorothy Q.’ -their most original touch,--asking what would have been the result for -_him_ had prospective great-grandmother said ‘No’ instead of ‘Yes’:-- - - Should I be I, or would it be - One tenth another to nine tenths me? - -Half the pathos in that fragile and beautiful piece of workmanship, -‘The Last Leaf,’ derives from the humor, from the blending of laughter -and tears. Even in the exquisite piece, attributed to Iris, ‘Under the -Violets,’ a description of a young girl’s burial-place, the lighter -touch is not wholly wanting:-- - - When, turning round their dial-track, - Eastward the lengthening shadows pass, - Her little mourners, clad in black, - The crickets, sliding through the grass, - Shall pipe for her an evening mass. - -His highest flights are represented by ‘The Chambered Nautilus’ and -‘Musa,’ by the quaint and fanciful ‘Homesick in Heaven,’ and by the -simple and pathetic little lament entitled ‘Martha.’ His claim to the -name of poet must rest on these, on his fine setting of the romance of -Agnes Surriage, and on his tributes to Bryant and to Everett. - - -VI - -FICTION AND BIOGRAPHY - -Holmes wrote three novels. Although readable, original, based on a -thorough comprehension of the scenes described, the life, antecedents, -prejudices, habits, and manners of the people portrayed, nevertheless -they strike one as being experiments in fiction rather than true -novels. They may be classed with similar attempts by J. G. Holland and -Bayard Taylor. Each of these writers was a practised craftsman. The -trained man of letters can write a volume which he, his friends, his -publishers, the public, and many fair-minded critics agree in calling -a novel. But the book in question does not become a novel from having -been cast in the orthodox form. It resembles a novel more nearly than -it resembles anything else, nevertheless it is not a veritable novel. -Any reader can feel it, though he may not be able to say just where -the difference lies, or how there happens to be a difference. Many -a writer, it would seem, has only to continue his efforts to arrive -finally at the making of a true novel. He falls short because his mind -is working in an unwonted medium rather than because he lacks inventive -ability. - -If _Elsie Venner_ and _The Guardian Angel_ fail of being true novels, -they are at least highly successful studies in fiction and have given -and will continue to give a world of pleasure. If _A Mortal Antipathy_ -falls short of the excellence attained by the other two, it has at -least the virtue of having been written by a man who could not be -uninteresting, no matter what was his age or his humor. - -_Elsie Venner_ is a study in prenatal influences. The motive is -gruesome enough. A young woman, bitten by a snake, transmits certain -tendencies thus derived to her child. The subject was better adapted -to Hawthorne’s pen than to the Autocrat’s. A man of science knows -too much. Imagination is hampered. ‘What is’ and ‘What might be’ are -in perpetual conflict. A poet (such as Hawthorne essentially was) -throws science to the winds. Holmes goes at the problem in a brisk, -business-like way. Hawthorne would have treated it as a mystery, not -dragging it into broad light. - -_Elsie Venner_ was dramatized and staged. Holmes went to see it. What -he thought of the play at the time is not recorded, but in after years -he pronounced it ‘bad, very bad.’ - -_The Guardian Angel_ also deals with the question of heredity. The -problem of how many of our ancestors come out in us, and just how they -make themselves felt, was always fascinating to Holmes. There are no -snakes in this story to account for Myrtle Hazard’s peculiarities, but -something quite as enigmatical, namely, an Indian. One character in -_The Guardian Angel_ has come near to achieving immortality--Gifted -Hopkins, the minor poet, whose name was an inspiration. He represents -a harmless and much-abused race. The successful in his own craft -are even more impatient with him than the mockers among the laity, -probably because Gifted, in the innocence of his heart, desires to have -his verses read, and sends them to eminent poets under the mistaken -impression that they will be welcome. Holmes confessed that he had been -hard on Gifted Hopkins. - -The memoir of _John Lothrop Motley_, in addition to being a formal -record of personal history and literary achievement, is a spirited -defence of a proud, a gifted, and (in the biographer’s opinion) an -ill-used man, a man who, after years of successful public service, was -needlessly and wantonly humbled and mortified. Hence the note of fine -indignation which vibrates through the narrative. - -The life of _Emerson_ contributed by Holmes to the series of -‘American Men of Letters’ was a surprise to the public. To call for -judgment on the most transcendental of New England authors by the -least transcendental, to invite the poet of ‘The One-Hoss Shay’ to -pronounce on the poet of ‘The Sphinx,’ seems an odd if not a humorous -performance. Whoever suggested it did a wise thing, and the result of -the suggestion was a useful and agreeable piece of biographical writing. - -The work is thoroughly done, even to an analysis of the individual -essays. Who will, may view Emerson through the Autocrat’s eyes. They -had a close bond in their liking for the tangible facts of life. ‘Too -much,’ says Holmes, ‘has been made of Emerson’s mysticism. He was an -intellectual rather than an emotional mystic, and withal a cautious -one. He never let go the string of his balloon.’ - - * * * * * - -That we read Holmes on Emerson less for the sake of Emerson than for -the sake of Holmes suggests the possibility that we read all the -Autocrat’s books in the same spirit. Without question his work is of -value in the degree in which it reveals its author. He could not be -impersonal, he could not be dramatic. But he was fortunate in that he -could always be himself. He was one of the most delightful of men. And -being likewise one of the friendliest of writers he is most successful -when the form of his books, like _The Autocrat_ and _Over the Teacups_, -permits him, as it were, to bring his easy chair into the centre of -the room while we gather about him anxious to have him begin to talk, -hoping that he will be in no haste to leave off. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [45] J. T. Morse, Jr. - - - - -XIII - -_John Lothrop Motley_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =O. W. Holmes=: _John Lothrop Motley, a Memoir_, 1879. - - =G. W. Curtis= (edited): _The Correspondence of John Lothrop - Motley, D. C. L._, 1889. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -Motley was born at Dorchester, Massachusetts, on April 15, 1814. His -great-grandfather, John Motley, came from Belfast, Ireland, early in -the Eighteenth Century, and settled at Falmouth, now Portland, Maine. -His father, Thomas Motley, a prosperous merchant of Boston, married -Anna Lothrop, daughter of the Reverend John Lothrop. The historian, the -second-born of their eight children, was named in honor of his maternal -grandfather. - -After a course of study under Cogswell and Bancroft at the Round Hill -School, Motley entered Harvard College and was graduated in 1831. He -was noted both at Northampton and Cambridge for intellectual brilliancy -rather than studiousness, for a regal manner which did not tend to make -him universally popular, and for rare personal beauty as was becoming -in a youth whose parents were reputed in their younger days ‘the -handsomest pair the town of Boston could show.’ He was a wit. ‘Give -me the luxuries of life and I will dispense with the necessaries,’ -is one of his best-known sayings. His passions were literary, he -admired Shelley and enjoyed the cleverness of Praed. Although fond of -versifying, he seems to have printed little or nothing. - -After graduation Motley spent two years (1832–33) at German -universities. He went first to Göttingen, where he made the -acquaintance of Bismarck. They were fellow-students the next year -at Berlin. ‘We lived in closest intimacy, sharing meals and outdoor -exercise,’ said Bismarck in a letter to Holmes. - -His period of foreign study having come to an end, Motley read law -in Boston and was admitted to the bar. In 1837 he married Miss Mary -Benjamin, a young woman noted for her beauty, cleverness, and an -open-hearted sincerity which ‘made her seem like a sister to those -who could help becoming her lovers.’[46] Two years after his marriage -Motley made his literary beginning by publishing a novel, _Morton’s -Hope, or the Memoirs of a Provincial_, and in 1849 he published yet -another, _Merry-Mount, a Romance of the Massachusetts Colony_. Neither -was successful. Perhaps the second failure was required to emphasize -the lesson taught by the first, that the author’s gifts were not for -imaginative work.[47] He was more fortunate with a group of three -essays printed in the ‘North American Review,’ one on ‘Peter the -Great’ (1845), one on ‘Balzac’ (1847), the third on ‘The Polity of the -Puritans’ (1849). - -The first subject was suggested to Motley during a residence of -several months in St. Petersburg as Secretary to the American Legation -(1841–42). This taste of diplomatic life seems not to have been wholly -relished. Motley’s wife could not accompany him, and homesickness and a -Russian winter conspired to drive him back to America. He gained some -knowledge of practical politics by serving a term in the Massachusetts -legislature (1849). Neither law, nor diplomacy, nor yet politics, -seemed at that time to offer a field in which he could work to best -advantage. More and more he was tending towards literature. So absorbed -had he become in the history of Holland that he felt it ‘necessary to -write a book on the subject, even if it were destined to fall dead -from the press.’ He had made some progress when he heard of Prescott’s -projected history of Philip the Second. Thinking it ‘disloyal’ not to -declare his ambition of invading a part of Prescott’s own domain, he -went to lay his plan before the elder historian. Prescott immediately -offered the use of books from his library and was in all ways cordial -and enthusiastic. - -It soon became evident that a history of Holland could not be written -in America. In 1851 Motley took his family and went abroad, and for -the next five years toiled unweariedly among the archives of Dresden, -The Hague, Brussels, and Paris. His energy and plodding patience -surprised the friends who remembered Motley for a brilliant young man -who heretofore had played industriously at work rather than actually -worked. ‘He never shrank from any of the drudgery of preparation,’ said -his daughter, Lady Harcourt, in after years. - -The three volumes of _The Rise of the Dutch Republic_ were at length -ready for the press. Motley was forced to publish at his own expense. -Notwithstanding hostile criticisms, the success was undeniable. The -book was immediately translated into French, German, and Dutch. Of -two French versions the one published in Paris was edited, with an -introduction, by Guizot. - -The historical series as we have it comprises nine volumes. The works -appeared in the following order: _The Rise of the Dutch Republic_, -1856; _History of the United Netherlands_, 1860–68; _The Life and -Death of John of Barneveld_, 1874. Motley’s plan included a history -of the Thirty Years’ War. But he was not to be granted length of days -sufficient for the writing of this ‘last act of a great drama.’ - -Among many scholastic honors which in the nature of things fell -to Motley’s share may be mentioned the conferring of the degree -of D. C. L. by Oxford, and the election to full membership in the -Institute of France. - -Shortly after the fall of Fort Sumter, Motley published in the London -‘Times’ two letters on the significance and justice of the war. They -had a marked effect in England and were reprinted in America. In June, -1861, the Austrian government having refused to accept the minister -sent to Vienna, Motley was accredited to the mission. After discharging -the duties of his office with marked ability during the four troubled -years of Lincoln’s administration, and through two years of Johnson’s, -he resigned because of an affront offered him by his own government.[48] - -During the political campaign of 1868 Motley gave an address in Music -Hall, Boston, on ‘Four Questions for the People at the Presidential -Election.’ On December 16, as orator at the sixty-first anniversary of -the New York Historical Society, he spoke on ‘Historic Progress and -American Democracy.’ In the spring of 1869 President Grant assigned -Motley to the English mission, and in July, 1870, recalled him. The -reasons given for this summary act have never been satisfactory -to Motley’s friends. It is a question for experts. If Motley’s -indiscretion (or offence) was great, his punishment was severe, and the -manner of it not undeserving of the epithet brutal.[49] - -Motley’s health is believed to have been affected by distress of mind -over the recall. But the real disaster of his latter years was the -loss of his wife. He survived her only two and a half years. His death -occurred at Kingston Russell, near Dorchester, England, on May 29, 1877. - -Dean Stanley in his tribute to Motley at Westminster Abbey used the -striking phrase, ‘an historian at once so ardent and so laborious.’ -J. R. Green, who heard the sermon, thought the phrase ‘most happy.’ -Said Green: ‘I should have liked Stanley to have pointed out the -thing which strikes me most in Motley, that alone of all men past and -present he knit together not only America and England, but that Older -England which we left on Frisian shores, and which grew into the United -Netherlands. A child of America, the historian of Holland, he made -England his adopted country, and in England his body lies.’ - - -II - -HIS CHARACTER - -Motley’s letters afford the best insight into his generous, -affectionate, richly endowed, and manly nature. They mirror his -complete happiness in the home circle, his chivalrous devotion to the -woman of his choice, his loyalty to his friends, and his passionate -love of native land. They do not show--nor was it intended by the -editor that they should--his fiery impatience, his quick resentment, -his sensitive pride, his occasional and pardonable bitterness. - -A dominant trait of Motley’s character was intensity of the patriotic -sentiment. Much was required of a ‘good American’ who, living in Europe -during the Civil War, frequented the circles Motley frequented--much -in the way of tact, patience, and, above all, courage and hopefulness. -Motley, who was far from being a placid, unreflecting optimist, had -need of all his philosophy as he saw everywhere proofs of satisfaction -in America’s misfortune. He had not only to meet a frank antagonism -which could be understood and dealt with, but a hostility which took -the galling form of suave assurances that his country was positively -going to the dogs, and on the whole it was a very good thing that -it was. If gentlemen did not exactly call on him for the purpose -of telling him so, they managed sometimes to leave that impression. -Motley’s services to his country in meeting every form of attack, -direct or insidious, in the spirit of high confidence, were very great. -The extent of his usefulness has not yet been fully measured. - -He was free from literary vanity and would have been quite unmoved had -his books come short of their actual fortune. His way of accepting the -real or the superficial tributes to success shows the man. Honorary -degrees, elections to learned societies, drawing-room lionizing, -passing compliments, were taken exactly for what they were worth. He -was as far removed from the absurdity of being elated by these things -as he was from the absurdity of pretending not to care. No one could -have been more alive to the significance of a degree from Oxford, yet -Motley seems to have got the most of comfort on that occasion from the -odd spectacle of the Doctors marching in the rain, and among them old -Brougham ‘with his wonderful nose wagging lithely from side to side as -he hitched up his red petticoats and stalked through the mud.’ - -The letters reveal so many pleasant traits as to make it difficult to -comprehend the hostility which pursued the writer. Holmes throws a -deal of light on that question by a single remark. Motley, he says, -‘did not illustrate the popular type of politician.’ The fact is, he -illustrated everything that was opposed to that type. An uncompromising -upholder of the democratic theory, a bitter foe of absolutism, a -eulogist of the people, Motley was himself an aristocrat to the -finger-tips. ‘He had a genuine horror of vulgarity in all its forms,’ -said one of his friends, and doubtless he showed it. An ‘instinctive -repugnance to bad manners and coarse-grained men’ was a trait -ill-suited to popularity. Motley’s high-bred bearing alone constituted -an offence. But he was incapable of so much policy as was involved -in pretending to a bonhomie that was unnatural to him. He had a -pliancy of nature fitted to the complex needs of a very complex social -organization, but that was not enough to satisfy all his exacting -countrymen. And among them were those who disliked him for being the -gentleman he was. - - -III - -THE WRITER - -The historian of the Dutch Republic writes as one who thinks nobly, -admires with enthusiasm, and hates without pettiness. ‘His thoughts -are masculine, full of argumentation,’ and as are his thoughts so is -his style. Often the language seems charged with his own energy and -chivalric impulsiveness. At such times the style is eager, mettlesome, -impetuous, it glows with intensity of feeling. - -Motley was not a ‘fine’ writer in the sense of being visibly scrupulous -about the choice of words and the balance of sentences. He impresses -one as of the opinion that a man can ill afford to give too much time -to the problem of expression. But he is far from being indifferent to -the reader. He is not merely willing, he prefers to please, provided -that in so doing he is not diverted from his main purpose. The -prevailing characteristics of his style are a natural dignity and a -manly negligence. - -He imparts vividness by means of detailed conversations among the -actors of the historic drama. These colloquies have at times the air -of being inventions of the historian, like the speeches in Xenophon. -Conscious that a device intended to give reality might affect the -sceptical mind quite otherwise, Motley more than once explained that -‘no historical personage is ever made, in the text, to say or write -anything, save what, on ample evidence, he is known to have said or -written.’ - -The reader who turns from Prescott to Motley at once discovers that the -younger historian weaves a dense, firm web. Appropriating an admirable -figure invented by Henry James and used with respect to Balzac’s style, -it may be said that if Motley’s work is not at every point cloth of -gold, it has at least a metallic rigidity. - - -IV - -THE HISTORIES - -The struggle of the Dutch for religious and political liberty was to -have been ‘only an episode’ in Prescott’s _Philip the Second_. Motley’s -broad treatment of the theme requires nine octavo volumes. _The Rise -of the Dutch Republic_ (in three volumes) covers the time between the -abdication of Charles the Fifth and the murder of William of Orange. -The _History of the United Netherlands_ (in four volumes) takes up the -narrative at the death of William and carries it on to the end of the -Twelve Years’ Truce. _John of Barneveld_, is ‘the natural sequel’ to -the two preceding works, and ‘a necessary introduction’ to the history -of the Thirty Years’ War. - -These works from first to last are marked by passionate admiration of -the spirit which makes for liberty. Admitting the turbulent character -of that spirit in the early history of the Netherlands, the historian -does not deplore it. Sedition and uproar meant life. ‘Those violent -little commonwealths had blood in their veins! They were compact of -proud, self-helping muscular vigor.’ And to Motley ‘the most sanguinary -tumults which they ever enacted in the face of day were better than the -order and silence born of the midnight darkness of despotism.’ - -The treatment then is strongly partisan. There is a fervor in the -account of the deeds and sufferings of those patriots who thought no -sacrifice too great if thereby the sum total of human liberty was -increased. - -Motley does not pretend that the leaders in this struggle were always -disinterested. The motives swaying humanity are wondrously complex. -But after all deductions are made, it was a struggle of light against -darkness, and with such a struggle it was possible to sympathize -unqualifiedly. There are cool-blooded critics who view such an attitude -with disdain. This, they say, is not the temper in which history should -be written. History must be calm, impartial, scientific. Perhaps -the reasonable reply is that history must be of many sorts and the -product of many types of mind; that one sort never really excludes -the other. Also it is well to remember that a great historical master -of our time,[50] and one whose creed was by no means narrow, pleaded -always for this deep and passionate motive in the work, and laughed at -the modern Oxford product which can balance questions but is able to -accomplish nothing. - -Motley’s historic canvas is crowded with figures. The eye is at first -drawn toward the personages, the military, ecclesiastical, and princely -chiefs, William of Orange (who is Motley’s hero), Egmont, Alva, and -Granvelle; but the eye does not rest on these alone. Surrounding them -are the multitudes of aspiring, suffering people becoming more and more -a preponderant force in the life of the nation, refusing to be disposed -of in the lump, or driven about like a flock of sheep to be sheared or -slaughtered at the whim of a monarch. - -Here lies Motley’s sympathy. His indignation flames out when misery -is brought upon thousands, by the caprice of kings or the selfishness -of secular and ecclesiastical politicians. Note his sarcasm on the -battle of Saint Quentin, a game in which ‘the players were kings and -the people were stakes--not parties.’ Note his fine scorn of that type -of government ‘which was administered exclusively for the benefit -of the government.’ Note his loathing for that type of vanity which -presumes to dictate how a man shall worship God. The temper in which -Motley writes is admirably epitomized in the picture of Caraffa, as -papal legate, making his entry into Paris, showering blessings upon -the people, ‘while the friends who were nearest him were aware that -nothing but gibes and sarcasms were falling from his lips.... It would -no doubt have increased the hilarity of Caraffa ... could the idea have -been suggested to his mind that the sentiments, or the welfare of the -people throughout the great states ... could have any possible bearing -upon the question of peace or war. The world was governed by other -influences. The wiles of a cardinal--the arts of a concubine--the -speculations of a soldier of fortune--the ill temper of a monk--the -mutual venom of Italian houses--above all, the perpetual rivalry -of the two great historical families who owned the greater part of -Europe between them as their private property--such were the wheels on -which rolled the destiny of Christendom. Compared to these, what were -great moral and political ideas, the plans of statesmen, the hopes of -nations? Time was to show.... Meanwhile a petty war for petty motives -was to precede the great spectacle which was to prove to Europe that -principles and peoples still existed, and that a phlegmatic nation of -merchants and manufacturers could defy the powers of the universe, and -risk all their blood and treasure, generation after generation, in a -sacred cause.’[51] - -The historian is a hard hitter. The enemies of liberty and their agents -are not spared. Philip, Granvelle, Alva, and a score besides are -characterized in withering terms. Of Philip, for example, Motley says: -‘It is curious to observe the minute reticulations of tyranny which he -had begun already to spin about a whole people, while cold, venomous, -and patient he watched his victims from the center of his web.’ The -historian is fiery in denouncing the tortuous and Machiavellian -politics of the Sixteenth Century. It was an age when honesty, plain -speaking, and respect for a promise had nothing to do with the conduct -of affairs of state. He who could lie most adroitly was the best man. -Granvelle fills his letters with innuendoes against Egmont and Orange, -all the while protesting that he would not have a hair of their heads -injured. It is he, according to Motley, who puts into Philip’s mind -the thoughts he is to think, almost in the words in which he is to -utter them. Philip had his own strength, but he was slow to come to a -conclusion. Granvelle knew how to clarify that muddy stream of ideas. - -The preceding work shows the Dutch states in the beginning and -progress of their struggle against the tyranny of Philip; the _United -Netherlands_ shows Holland as a rising hope of Protestantism, as a -nation to be reckoned with in the diplomacy of Europe. - -The Spanish king is still writing letters, still concocting schemes -for conquest, still enmeshing friends and enemies alike in a web -of falsehood. He is drawn off for the moment from his mission in -the Netherlands to extend his conquests elsewhere. These proposed -conquests have exactly one object--to enable the spirit of despotism -‘to maintain the old mastery of mankind.’ ‘Countries and nations being -regarded as private property to be inherited or bequeathed to a few -favored individuals, ... it had now become right and proper for the -Spanish monarch to annex Scotland, England, and France to the very -considerable possessions which were already his own.’ - -A picturesque episode of the attempt upon England was the Armada. -To this enterprise Motley gives one of his best and most thrilling -chapters. Equally fascinating is the account of the attempt upon -France, the battle of Ivry (when the white plume of Henry of Navarre -carried the hopes of all liberal-minded men), and the terrible siege of -Paris which almost immediately followed. ‘Rarely have men at any epoch -defended their fatherland against foreign oppression with more heroism -than that which was manifested by the Parisians of 1590 in resisting -religious toleration, and in obeying a foreign and priestly despotism.’ - -Perhaps there are not to be found in the historian’s works more -striking passages than those in which are described the last days of -Philip the Second. To Philip’s fortitude, in agony as poignant as -any he had visited upon his miserable victims, the historian gives -unstinted praise. The account, which rests upon documentary basis, -presents an accumulation of horrors from which a Zola or a Flaubert -might have learned a lesson. The king died with a clear conscience, -having upon his soul the blood of uncounted numbers of human beings, -and providing in his will that ‘thirty thousand masses should be said -for his soul.’ - -‘It seems like mere railing to specify his crimes,’ says Motley. -‘The horrible monotony of his career stupefies the mind until it is -ready to accept the principle of evil as the fundamental law of the -land.’ Motley’s conclusion is that Philip the Second of Spain was -Machiavelli’s greatest pupil. - -What remains of the book after Philip’s death lacks neither literary -interest nor historic value. But we have something akin to the feeling -which comes over us when the chief character in a play dies before the -last act; we question for a moment whether the interest will hold. That -dominant and sinister personality leaves a void which the exploits of -Prince Maurice hardly serve to fill. With these exploits, however, and -a discussion of the causes leading to the Twelve Years’ Truce, Motley -concluded the _History of the United Netherlands_. - -In the last of his three great works, _John of Barneveld_, Motley -gave full expression to his generous partisanship of all that seemed -to him to stand for the spirit of liberty. With a contempt for the -subtleties of theological speculation, the historian was by instinct -‘Remonstrant,’ that is, anti-Calvinistic, and found in Barneveld one of -his heroes. He has painted a wonderful picture of the old advocate’s -trial and death. Hounded daily by twenty-four judges, many of them his -personal enemies, compelled to rely on his powerful memory in reviewing -the events and explaining the acts of his forty-three years of public -service, denied books, denied counsel, denied a knowledge in advance -of the charges made against him, denied access to the notes of his -examination as it proceeded, denied everything suggested by the words -‘law’ and ‘justice,’ Barneveld came out of the ordeal so triumphantly -that the announcement of his sentence might well have moved him to say: -‘I am ready enough to die, but I cannot comprehend why I am to die.’ - -In characterization of men, in searching analysis of causes and -motives, in brilliant description, and in manly eloquence, Motley’s -_John of Barneveld_ equals its predecessors, while the note of passion -is if anything intensified by the bitter experiences through which the -historian had so recently passed. - - * * * * * - -A fitting postlude to Motley’s work as a whole may be found in the last -sentence of the _United Netherlands_. It makes clear the motives other -than scholarly and creative which led to the writing of these splendid -narratives. Says the historian: ‘If by his labors a generous love has -been fostered for that blessing, without which everything that this -earth can afford is worthless,--freedom of thought, of speech, and of -life,--his highest wish has been fulfilled.’ - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [46] O. W. Holmes. - - [47] _Merry-Mount_ is more readable than its predecessor. Such - characters as Sir Christopher Gardiner and his ‘cousin,’ - Thomas Morton with his hawks and his classical quotations, - Esther Ludlow and Maudsley, Walford the smith, Blaxton the - hermit, together with the human grotesques Peter Cakebread, - Bootefish, and Canary-Bird, repay one for the trouble he - takes to make their acquaintance. - - [48] For a defence of the part played by the Secretary of State in - this affair see John Bigelow’s paper entitled ‘Mr. Seward and - Mr. Motley,’ in the ‘International Review,’ July-August, 1878. - - [49] John Jay: ‘Motley’s Appeal to History,’ in the ‘International - Review’ for November-December, 1877. - - [50] J. R. Green. - - [51] _Dutch Republic_, i, 162. - - - - -XIV - -_Francis Parkman_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =Edward Wheelwright=: ‘Memoir of Francis Parkman, LL.D.,’ - _Publications of the Colonial Society of Massachusetts_, vol. - i, 1895. - - =C. H. Farnham=: _A Life of Francis Parkman_, 1901. - - =H. D. Sedgwick=: _Francis Parkman_, ‘American Men of Letters,’ - 1904. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -The Parkmans are descendants of Thomas Parkman of Sidmouth, Devon, -whose son Elias settled in Dorchester, Massachusetts, in 1633. -Francis Parkman was a son of the Reverend Francis Parkman, pastor -for thirty-six years of the New North Church in Boston. Through his -mother, Caroline (Hall) Parkman, he was related to the famous colonial -minister, John Cotton. Two of his maternal ancestors used to preach -to the Indians in their own tongue. Parkman’s deep interest in the -‘aborigines’ may have been ‘partly inherited from these Puritan -ancestors.’ ‘It does not appear, however, that he ever learned their -language, and it may be regarded as certain that he never preached to -them.’ - -Born in Boston on September 16, 1823, Parkman prepared for college -at Chauncy Hall School and was graduated at Harvard in 1844. During -his college course he ‘showed symptoms of Injuns on the brain,’ as a -classmate phrased it. In 1841 he began those vacation wanderings which -gave him such an intimate acquaintance with the American wilderness. -Before taking his degree he had planned a book on the conspiracy of -Pontiac. The year after graduation he visited Detroit and other scenes -of the historic drama, collected papers, and, wherever it was possible, -‘interviewed descendants of the actors.’ - -At his father’s instance Parkman then entered the Dane Law School at -Cambridge and obtained his degree (1846), but took no steps to be -admitted to the bar. He studied by himself history, Indian ethnology, -and ‘models of English style.’ The passage in _Vassall Morton_ -describing the influence of Thierry’s _Norman Conquest_ in directing -the hero of the novel towards ethnological study, is thought to be -autobiographical. - -Having weakened his sight by immoderate reading, Parkman (in 1846) made -a journey to the Northwest, ‘partly to cure his eyes and partly to -study Indian life.’ He was accompanied by his friend Quincy Adams Shaw. -For some weeks he lived in a village of Ogillallah Indians, sharing -the tent of a chief and following the wanderings of the tribe in their -search for enemies and buffalo. The hardships of the life ruined his -health. His sight was made worse rather than better, and his first -book, _The Oregon Trail_ (1849), describing these western experiences, -had to be written from dictation.[52] It was followed by _The -Conspiracy of Pontiac_ (1851), and that by _Vassall Morton_ (1856), an -attempt at fiction. This ends the initial period of Parkman’s literary -life. - -In 1850 Parkman married Catharine, a daughter of Doctor Jacob Bigelow -of Boston. She is said to have been a woman of a sweet and joyful -disposition, having a keen sense of humor, and, above all, endowed -with ‘the high courage requisite to tend unfalteringly the pain and -suffering of the man she loved.’[53] It was a perfect union, but -unhappily it was not to last long. Mrs. Parkman died in 1858. - -The historian’s health steadily declined. For years together his chief -study was to keep himself alive. As a part of this study he took up -floriculture, and soon found himself absorbed in it for its own sake. -He became famous for his roses and lilies, and was the recipient of -prizes innumerable from horticultural societies.[54] Yet at no time -did he lose sight of his main object, the history of France in North -America. Little by little his store of materials accumulated. Even -when he was at his worst physically, some progress was made. It might -be only a step, but the step had not to be retraced. - -As his strength returned he began to travel. To renew his acquaintance -with the Indians he went to Fort Snelling in 1867. He was repeatedly in -Paris consulting archives and doctors. He visited Canada in 1873 and -explored over and over again the region between Quebec and Lake George. - -The great historical series to which its author gave the title of -_France and England in North America_ began to appear just at the close -of the Civil War. The volumes in the order of their publication are: -_The Pioneers of France in the New World_, 1865; _The Jesuits in North -America_, 1867; _The Discovery of the Great West_, 1869;[55] _The Old -Régime_, 1874; _Count Frontenac and New France under Louis XIV_, 1877; -_Montcalm and Wolfe_, 1884; _A Half-Century of Conflict_, 1892. - -The merits of this extraordinary series were recognized at once as -many and varied. It is a question to which of three types of reader -the books most appealed,--the scholar, who is bound to read critically -whether he will or no, the utilitarian in search of facts chiefly, or -the mere lover of literature. Each found what he was seeking in these -narratives, and each paid homage to the author in his own way. - -As is often true of historians far less notable than he, Parkman was -the recipient of academic honors, and was made a member of numerous -historical societies. The mere catalogue of these distinctions fills a -page of printed text. His membership of the Massachusetts Historical -Society and his degree of LL. D. from Harvard College (1889) will -serve as illustrations. Parkman was influential in helping to found -the Archæological Institute of America. He was one of the founders of -the St. Botolph Club in Boston, and its president during the first six -years of its existence. - -The history of France and England in North America was completed the -year before he died. Had time and strength been allowed him, he would -have recast the material in the form of a continuous narrative. There -might have been a gain in the new arrangement, as on the other hand -there might have been a loss. - -Parkman died at his home at Jamaica Plain, near Boston, on November 8, -1893. - - -II - -PARKMAN’S CHARACTER - -Parkman had prodigious will power and unequalled pertinacity. No -barrier to the accomplishment of his object was allowed to stand in -the way. He was beset by the demons of ill health, and their number was -legion. Unable to rout them by impetuous onslaught, he tired them out, -thinning their ranks, one by one. He was infinitely patient, full of -devices for outwitting the enemy. Beaten again and again, he stubbornly -renewed the fight. Threatened with blindness, he set himself to avoid -it, and did. Threatened with insanity, he declined to become insane. - -Nothing could be more admirable than the spirit in which he faced daily -torment. He was that extraordinary being, a cheerful stoic. Four times -in his life it was a question whether he would live or die. Parkman -admitted that once, had he been seeking merely his comfort, he would -have elected to die. That must have been the time when, in response to -his physician’s encouraging remark that he had a strong constitution, -Parkman said: ‘I’m afraid I have.’ In ordinary conditions of ill health -he was bright, cheery, philosophical, but when he suffered most he was -silent. At no time was he capable of complaining. - -Parkman loved to face the hard facts of life and was apt to admire -others in the degree in which they showed a like spirit. He had a -sovereign contempt for everything not manly and robust. He contradicted -with amusing emphasis the statement in some biographical notice that -he was ‘feeble.’ By his philosophy the militant attitude toward -life was the true one. He believed in war as a moral force; it -made for character both in the man and in the nation. ‘The severest -disappointment of his life was his inability to enter the army during -our civil war.’ - -He was wholly free from certain narrow traits which are too apt to -be engendered in a life devoted to books and authorship. Manly, -open-hearted, unspoiled, he neither craved honors nor despised them. -It has been remarked that while he was gratified by the recognition -accorded his work in high places, he was equally pleased with a letter -from ‘a live boy’ who wrote to tell him how much he had enjoyed reading -about Pontiac and La Salle. He himself kept to the last a certain -boyish frankness of mind and heart. The year before he died he wrote -to the secretary of the class of ’44: ‘Please give my kind regrets and -remembrances to the fellows.’ - -There have been not a few attractive personalities in the history of -American letters. Parkman was one of the most attractive among them. - - -III - -THE WRITER - -The style is clear and luminous. Short sentences abound, giving the -effect of rapidity. The mind of the reader never halts because of an -obscure term or some intricacy of structure. Neither is the page -spotted with long words ending in _tion_, and which coming in groups, -as they do in Bancroft, are like grit in the teeth. Parkman did not -attain the exquisite grace and composure which characterize Irving’s -prose, but he came nearer to it than did Prescott. The historian of -Ferdinand and Isabella had a self-conscious style. Agreeable as it is, -it reveals a man always on guard as he writes. In his most eloquent -passages Prescott is formal, precise, even stiff. - -Parkman’s style is wholly engaging. There is a captivating manner about -it, the result of his immense enthusiasm for his theme. Infinitely -laborious in the preparation, sceptical in use of authorities, -temperate in judgment, when, however, it comes to telling the story, -he allows his genius for narration a free rein, and the style, though -losing none of its dignity, is eager and almost impetuous. The -historian speaks as an eye-witness of all he describes. - -This explains Parkman’s popularity in large degree. Fascinating as the -subject is, the manner adds a hundred fold. He who reads Bancroft gets -a deal of information, for which he pays a round price. He who reads -Parkman gets facts, eloquence, philosophy, besides no end of adventure, -and for all this he pays literally nothing. - - -IV - -EARLY WORK - -_OREGON TRAIL_, _CONSPIRACY OF PONTIAC_, _VASSALL MORTON_ - -_The Oregon Trail_ ranks high among books which, though sometimes -written for quite another purpose, are read chiefly for entertainment. -Such was _Two Years before the Mast_, such was _The Bible in Spain_, -that skilful work of a most accomplished poseur. - -In addition to its value as literature, _The Oregon Trail_ is a -trustworthy account of a no longer existent state of society. It is -a document. The range of experience was narrow, and the adventures -few, but so far as it goes the record is perfect; and when read in -connection with his historical work, the book becomes a commentary on -Parkman’s method. Here is shown how he got that knowledge of Indian -life and character which distinguishes his work from that of other -historical writers who touch the same field. The knowledge was utilized -at once in his next work. - -_The Conspiracy of Pontiac_ is the sort of book people praise by saying -that it is as readable as a novel. The comparison is unfortunate. So -many novels are disciplinary rather than amusing. One wishes it were -possible to say of them that they are as readable as history. - -Nevertheless it is quite true that the virtues supposed to inhere -chiefly in a work of fiction are conspicuous in this the first of -Parkman’s historical studies. _The Conspiracy of Pontiac_ is a story, -filled with incident and abounding in illustrations of courage, -craft, endurance, stubbornness, self-sacrifice, despair, triumph. The -plain truth shames invention. Pontiac lives in these pages describing -his towering ambition. So do the other actors,--Rogers, Gladwyn, -Campbell, Catharine the Ojibwa girl. The supernumeraries are strikingly -picturesque,--Canadian settlers, trappers, coureurs des bois, priests, -half-breeds, and Indians, the motley denizens of frontier and -wilderness. A forest drama played by actors like these is bound to be -absorbing were it only as a spectacle. - -One fact becomes apparent on taking up this book. History as Parkman -writes it is both dramatic and graphical, filled with action and -movement, filled with color, form, and beauty. With such an eye for -effect it is impossible for him to be dull. Open the volume at random -and the wealth of the author’s observations seems to have been showered -on that page. But the next page is like it, and also the next. - -The vivacity of youth explains much in this narrative. Parkman was -but twenty-six when he wrote _The Conspiracy of Pontiac_. Being -young, he was not afraid to be eloquent, to revel in descriptions of -sunrise and sunset, tempests, the coming of spring, the brilliant hues -of autumn foliage, the soft haze of Indian summer. His chapters are -richly enamelled with these glowing pieces of rhetoric. He is no less -brilliant in his martial scenes; the accounts of the Battle of Bloody -Bridge and of Bouquet’s fight in the forest are extraordinarily well -done. - -The historian is severe on writers who have idealized the Indian. -Here is one of Parkman’s own characterizations: ‘The stern, -unchanging features of his mind excite our admiration from their very -immutability; and we look with deep interest on the fate of this -irreclaimable son of the wilderness, the child who will not be weaned -from the breast of his rugged mother. And our interest increases when -we discern in the unhappy wanderer, mingled among his vices, the germs -of heroic virtues,--a hand bountiful to bestow, as it is rapacious to -seize, and, even in extremest famine, imparting its last morsel to -a fellow sufferer; a heart which, strong in friendship as in hate, -thinks it not too much to lay down life for its chosen comrade; a soul -true to its own idea of honor, and burning with an unquenchable thirst -for greatness and renown.’ Neither poet nor novelist really needs to -embroider such an account of the Red Man. - -This successful historic monograph was followed by an unsuccessful -novel, written, it is thought, for recreation. Without being an -autobiography, _Vassall Morton_ abounds in autobiographical passages. -Its failure was not of the kind that proves inability ever to master -the art of fiction. The loss to American letters however would have -been incalculable had Parkman’s genius for historical narrative been -sacrificed in any degree to novel writing. And this might have happened -had _Vassall Morton_ been a success. - - -V - -_FRANCE AND ENGLAND IN NORTH AMERICA_ - -The history of France in North America abounds in everything appealing -to the love of the heroic. Parkman writes in a spirit of frank and -contagious admiration. Himself of Puritan blood and appreciative of -the best in Puritan character, he makes the pale narratives of the -contentious little English republics seem colorless indeed when laid -beside his glowing pages. The great warriors, the brave and fanatical -priests, the adventurous rangers, and the iron-hearted explorers of New -France were born to be wondered at and extolled. Without assuming that -these men had a monopoly of virtue, Parkman scatters praise with a free -hand. - -The germ of this massive and beautiful work is contained in the -introductory chapters of _Pontiac_. Here is outlined the history of -French exploration, religious propagandism, and military conquest or -defeat up to the fall of Quebec. - -The first three narratives (_The Pioneers of France_, _The Jesuits_, -and _La Salle_) cover the period of inception. They abound in -illustrations of heroism, self-sacrifice, and missionary fervor. The -last three volumes (_Count Frontenac_, _A Half-Century of Conflict_, -and _Montcalm and Wolfe_) describe the struggle of rival powers for -supremacy. They are characterized mainly by illustrations of commercial -greed, ecclesiastical jealousy, personal and political ambition. Midway -in the series and related alike to what precedes and what follows is -the fascinating volume, _The Old Régime in Canada_. - -The title of the initial volume, _The Pioneers of France in the New -World_, exactly describes it. The ‘Pioneers’ are the Basque, the -Norman, and the Breton sailors who, from an almost unrecorded past, -crossed the sea yearly to fish on the banks of Newfoundland. They are -Jacques Cartier of St. Malo, who first explored the St. Lawrence, -Roberval, La Roche, and De Monts. Men of their time, they were both -devout and unscrupulous. Among them and their followers were grim -humorists. When, after the arrival of De Monts’s company in Acadia, a -priest and a Huguenot minister died at the same time, the crew buried -them in one grave ‘to see if they would lie peaceably together.’ - -Chief among the great names of this period is that of Samuel Champlain, -the ‘life’ of New France, who united in himself ‘the crusader, the -romance-loving explorer, the curious, knowledge-seeking traveller, -the practical navigator.’ Such a man has a breadth of vision and -strength of purpose in comparison with which the sight of common men is -blindness and their strength infirmity. - -The second narrative in the series, _The Jesuits in North America_, -is an amazing record of courage, fanaticism, indomitable will, -perseverance, and martyrdom. The book contains the gist of the famous -_Jesuit Relations_. A man may be forgiven for not wearying himself with -the tediousness of those good fathers who were often as long-winded as -they were brave. But he is inexcusable if he has not learned to admire -them through Parkman’s thrilling account of their physical sufferings -and spiritual triumphs. Those giants of devotion, Brébeuf, Lalemant, -Garnier, and Jogues, seem both human and superhuman as they move across -the stage of history. - -In _La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West_ we have a story of -zeal of another sort. La Salle is a pathetic figure. Yet to pity him -were to offer insult. He stood apart from his fellows, misunderstood -and maligned, but self-centred and self-sufficient. His contemporaries -thought him crack-brained; suffering had turned his head. They mocked -his schemes and denied the truth of the discoveries to which he laid -claim. His history is one of pure disaster. But no one of Parkman’s -heroes awakens greater sympathy than this silent man who found in -the pursuit of honor compensation enough for incredible fatigues and -sacrifices. - -_The Old Régime in Canada_ treats of the contest between the feudal -chiefs of Acadia, La Tour and D’Aunay, of the mission among the -Iroquois, of the career of that imperious churchman Laval, and then, -in a hundred and fifty brilliant pages, of Canadian civilization in -the Seventeenth Century. This section is a model of instructive and -stimulating writing, grateful alike to the student of manners and to -the amateur of literary delights. - -The last volume shows the construction of the ‘political and social -machine.’ The next, _Count Frontenac and New France_, shows the -‘machine in action.’ The period covered is from 1672 to 1698. -Frontenac’s collision with the order which controlled the spiritual -destinies of New France led to his recall in 1682. La Barre, who -succeeded Frontenac, was a failure. Denonville, the next governor, -could live amicably with the Jesuits, but religious fervor proved no -substitute for tact in dealing with the savages. There was need of a -man who could handle both Jesuits and Indians. At seventy years of age -Frontenac returned to prop the tottering fortunes of New France. One -learns to like the irascible old governor who was vastly jealous of his -dignity, but who, when the need was, could take a tomahawk and dance a -war-dance to the great admiration of the Indians and to the political -benefit of New France. - -The story of the struggle for supremacy is continued in _A Half-Century -of Conflict_.[56] That phase of the record relating to the border -forays is almost monotonous in its unvarying details of ambuscade, -murder, the torture-stake, and captivity. The French and their Indian -allies descended on the outlying settlements of New England with fire, -sword, and tomahawk. Deerfield was sacked, and the country harried far -and wide. - -In the mean time French explorers were advancing west and south. Some, -in their eagerness to anticipate the English, established posts in -Louisiana. Others, with a courage peculiar to the time rather than to -any one race, pushed beyond the Missouri to Colorado and New Mexico, to -Dakota and Montana, led on by mixed motives such as personal ambition, -love of gain, patriotism. - -A spectacular event of the period was the siege and capture of -Louisbourg by a force largely composed of New England farmers and -fishermen. The project was conceived in audacity and carried out with -astonishing dash and good humor. That was singular military enterprise -which in the mind of an eye-witness bore some resemblance to a -‘Cambridge Commencement.’ ‘While the cannon bellowed in the front,’ -says Parkman, ‘frolic and confusion reigned at the camp, where the men -raced, wrestled, pitched quoits, and ... ran after French cannon balls, -which were carried to the batteries to be returned to those who sent -them.’ - -The volumes entitled _Montcalm and Wolfe_ crown the work. With stores -of erudition, a finely tempered judgment, a practised pen, and taste -refined by thirty years’ search for the manliest and most becoming -forms of expression, Parkman gave himself to the writing of this his -masterpiece. The work is the longest as well as the best of the seven -parts. Every page, from the account of Céloron de Bienville’s journey -to the Ohio to the story of the fall of Quebec, is crowded with fact, -suggestion, eloquence. The texture of the narrative is close knit. The -early volumes are often disjointed. They resemble groups of essays. -Chapters are so completely a unit that they might be read by themselves -with little regard to what preceded or what was to follow. Not so the -_Montcalm and Wolfe_, which is a perfectly homogeneous piece of work. - -This series of narratives has extraordinary merits. Let us note a few -of them. - -Among Parkman’s virtues as a historian are clarity of view, a -singularly unbiased attitude, an eye for the picturesque which never -fails to seize on the essentials of form, color, and grouping, -extraordinary power of condensation, a firm grasp of details, together -with the ability to subordinate all details to the main purpose. But -other historians have had these same virtues; we must find something -more distinctive. - -History as Parkman conceived it cannot be based on books and documents -alone. The historian must identify himself with the men of the past, -live their life, think their thoughts, place himself so far as possible -at their point of view. Since he cannot talk with them, he must at -least talk with their descendants. But the nature of the ‘habitant’ -cannot be studied in the latitude of Boston, it must be studied -on the St. Lawrence. A city covers the site of ancient Hochelaga, -nevertheless the historian must go there, and under the same sky, with -many features of the landscape unchanged, reconstruct Hochelaga as it -was when Jacques Cartier’s eyes rested upon it in 1535. This indicates -Parkman’s method. When he visited a battle-field it was not as one who -aimed at mere mathematical correctness of description, but as an artist -whose imagination took fire at the sight of a historic spot, and who -had there a vision of the past such as would not come to him in his -library. - -Would we see Parkman in a characteristic rôle we should not go to -his literary workshop, but for example to the little town of Utica, -Illinois. There one summer night, sitting on the porch of the hotel, -Parkman described to a group of farmers gathered about, the location -of La Salle’s fort and of the great Indian town. The description was -based on what he had learned from books ‘nearly two hundred years old.’ -His improvised audience gave hearty assent to its accuracy. Parkman -was there to obtain accuracy of another sort. The next day he visited -all the localities which formed the background of the historic drama -and reconstructed the life of the time. This is but one instance among -hundreds which might be brought forward to show the pains he took. -Herein lay the distinctive feature of his method. He used imagination -not to embroider the facts of history, but to give to dead facts a -new life. A faculty of the mind which is supposed to vitiate history -becomes in Parkman’s hands a means for arriving at truth. - -Parkman was a fortunate man. He was happy in his choice of a subject. -The theme was a great one, worthy the pen of so profound a scholar and -so gifted a literary artist. To this theme he gave his life, working -with singleness of purpose and under incredible difficulties. No trace -of this suffering can be detected in the temper of his judgments, or -in the even flow and bright radiance of his narrative. He was not only -happy in his mastery of his subject, he was most happy in his mastery -of himself. Parkman’s life is a reproach to the man who, working amid -normal conditions of health and fortune, permits himself to complain -that there are difficulties in his way. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [52] _The Oregon Trail_ was first published serially in ‘The - Knickerbocker Magazine.’ - - [53] Sedgwick’s _Parkman_, p. 217. - - [54] His _Book of the Roses_ was published in 1866. - - [55] Later renamed _La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West_. - - [56] _A Half-Century of Conflict_ was not published until after - the _Montcalm and Wolfe_. The historian became fearful lest - some accident should prevent his completing the part of his - narrative towards which all his study had tended. - - - - -XV - -_Bayard Taylor_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =Marie Hansen-Taylor and H. E. Scudder=: _Life and Letters of - Bayard Taylor_, 1884. - - =A. H. Smyth=: _Bayard Taylor_, ‘American Men of Letters’ [1896]. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -Bayard Taylor in 1841, when he was sixteen, contributed to the -Philadelphia ‘Saturday Evening Post’ the verses entitled ‘Soliloquy of -a Young Poet.’ In 1878, the year of his death, he was still planning -new literary enterprises, and in so far as declining health permitted, -carrying them out. If unwearied devotion through nearly forty years to -the literary life, great fecundity in production, much taste, no little -scholarship, and unquestioned sincerity in the exercise of his art -entitle one to be called by the honorable name of man of letters, who -is more deserving than the author of _The Masque of the Gods_? To be -sure, only a few of his many books are read. But Taylor is in no worse -case than many men who tower giant-fashion above him. They likewise -have written forty volumes and are known and measured by two or three. - -Taylor was partly of German, partly of English Quaker stock, and could -boast an ancestor (Robert Taylor) who had come to America with William -Penn. The fourth of the ten children of Joseph and Rebecca (Way) -Taylor, he was born at Kennett Square, Pennsylvania, on January 11, -1825. His education was got at the neighboring academies of Westchester -and Unionville. He was a rhymester at the age of seven, and had become -an industrious writer by the time he was twelve. - -Having no inclination towards school-teaching and still less towards -his father’s vocation, farming, Taylor was apprenticed to a printer. -He was presently seized with a passion for travel, and in 1844, with -one hundred and forty dollars in his pocket, payment in advance for -certain letters he was to write for Philadelphia journals, he set out -on a pedestrian tour of Europe. He had a few remittances from home. -Greeley promised to print some of his letters provided they were ‘not -descriptive’ and that before writing them the young traveller made sure -that he had been in Europe ‘long enough to know something.’ Seventeen -of Taylor’s letters appeared in the ‘Tribune.’ - -By rigid economy Taylor managed to get on. But one must have youth to -endure the hardships of such a journey. Especially must one have youth -if he proposes, as Taylor did, to walk from Marseilles to Paris in -the cold winter rains. The history of these two years of wandering is -recounted in _Views Afoot, or Europe seen with Knapsack and Staff_ -(1846). - -Taylor returned to America and took up journalism. Failing in an -attempt to make of the ‘Phœnixville Pioneer’ a paper according to his -ideal, he went to New York (December, 1847). After various experiences -he secured a place on the ‘Tribune,’ was rapidly advanced, and became -in time a stockholder. He was sent to California to report on the gold -discoveries. This journey furnished him with the matter for his second -book of travel, _El Dorado, or Adventures in the Path of Empire_ (1850). - -His whole subsequent career is but a variation on the themes of 1846 -and 1850. He went everywhere,--to Egypt, Palestine, Syria, Asia Minor -(1851–52); to Spain and India, then on to China, where he joined -Perry’s expedition to Japan (1853). He was in Germany, Norway, and -Lapland in 1856, in Greece in 1857–58, in Russia in 1862–63 (where for -a while he held the post of secretary of legation), in Switzerland, the -Pyrenees, and Corsica in 1868, and in Egypt and Iceland in the same -year (1874). - -All his adventures were transmuted into books: _A Journey to Central -Africa_, 1854; _The Lands of the Saracen_, 1854; _A Visit to India, -China, and Japan in the Year 1853_, 1855; _Northern Travel_, 1857; -_Travels in Greece and Russia_, 1859; _At Home and Abroad_, 1859; _At -Home and Abroad_, ‘second series,’ 1862; _Colorado_, 1867; _By-Ways of -Europe_, 1869; _Egypt and Iceland_, 1874. - -A part of the great success of these books was due to causes far -from literature. Doubtless, if written to-day, the volumes would be -read, but it were idle to suppose that they could have the vogue they -enjoyed in the Fifties. The American public of a half-century ago was -not nomadic. It had few ways of gratifying its thirst for knowledge -of foreign lands. Photographs were so expensive that one seldom ran -the risk of being obliged to sit down with a friend ‘just back from -Europe’ to admire such novelties as the Leaning Tower and the Bridge of -Sighs. The oxyhydrogen stereopticon was imperfect, the panorama clumsy -and ill-painted. Therefore the writings of a man who had the knack of -telling agreeably what he had seen were most welcome. The home-keeping -public enjoyed also hearing the traveller talk. When Taylor lectured -(for he became one of the most popular lecturers of the day) they -crowded the hall and thought two hours of him not long enough. - -Timeliness, however, does not explain all the success of _Views Afoot_ -and its companion volumes. Taylor was an excellent writer even when he -wrote most hastily. If his word-pictures were often highly colored, -they possessed, among other virtues, the great virtue of having been -painted on the spot. Through their aid one could really see what Taylor -had himself seen. - -But Taylor was a poet before he was a traveller. In 1844 he published -(under the patronage of R. W. Griswold, his first literary adviser) a -little volume entitled _Ximena, or, The Battle of the Sierra Morena, -and Other Poems_. It was followed by _Rhymes of Travel_ (1848) and _The -American Legend_, the Phi Beta Kappa poem at Harvard (1850). To these -must be added _A Book of Romances, Lyrics, and Songs_, 1851; _Poems -and Ballads_, 1854; _Poems of the Orient_, 1854; _Poems of Home and -Travel_, 1855; _The Poet’s Journal_, 1862; _The Picture of St. John_, -1866; _The Masque of the Gods_, 1872; _Lars_, 1873; _The Prophet_, -1874; _Home Pastorals, Ballads, and Lyrics_, 1875; _The National Ode_ -(read by the author at the opening of the ‘Centennial’), 1876; and -_Prince Deukalion_, 1878. The great translation of Goethe’s _Faust_, -with the commentary, appeared in 1870–71. - -Not content with his commercial success as a writer of travels, and his -artistic triumphs in poetry, Taylor tried fiction. The first of his -four novels, _Hannah Thurston_ (1863), is in part a satire and shows in -their most disagreeable light the people who abhor meat and swear by -vegetables, the people who profess to hold communication with spirits, -the people who think other people ought not to buy and sell human -flesh, and so forth. - -_John Godfrey’s Fortunes_ (1864) embodies not a few of Taylor’s -journalistic experiences in New York. Here are glimpses of literary -society such as the soirées at the home of Estelle Ann Lewis, the -Mademoiselle de Scudéry of that time and place. _The Story of Kennett_ -(1866) is a Pennsylvanian study, a true and lively picture of a phase -of civilization which the author perfectly understood. _Joseph and his -Friend_ (1870) closed the series of efforts by which Taylor tried to -earn money enough to free him from the thraldom of the lecture platform. - -His other publications were _Beauty and the Beast, and Tales of Home_ -(1872), _The Echo Club_ (1876), the posthumous _Studies in German -Literature_ (1879), and _Essays and Studies_ (1880). - -Of Taylor’s private life a few important facts remain to be recorded. -The pathetic story of Mary Agnew, the beautiful girl whom he had loved -since they were school-children together, and whom he married on her -death-bed, is a romance which fortunately has been well told by both of -Taylor’s biographers. In 1857 (seven years after Mary Agnew’s death) -Taylor married Marie Hansen, daughter of Professor Hansen of Gotha, the -astronomer. How devoted and helpful she was to him during his arduous -life, and how loyal to his memory, are facts too well known to require -emphasis. - -The home at Kennett known as ‘Cedarcroft’ was built in 1859–60. Taylor -lavished on it both money and affection; and while for a few years it -gave him a deal of happiness, it proved in the end a burden he could -ill afford to carry. - -Robust and vigorous though he seemed in middle life, Taylor by -unremitting activity had sapped his powers. He gave no evidence of -declining literary ambition, but at fifty he was worn out by overwork. -A notable recognition of his worth came to him in 1878, when President -Hayes appointed him Minister to Germany. He was not to enjoy the honor -for long. In May, 1878, he took up the duties of his office, and on -the fifteenth of the following December he died while sitting in his -armchair in his library. - - -II - -HIS CHARACTER - -Ambition was a ruling motive in Taylor’s life. Yet there has seldom -been an ambition which, albeit as consuming as fire, was at the same -time so free from selfish and ignoble elements. - -Taylor aspired to fame through cultivation of the art of poesy. -This was the real object of his life. To gain this object he toiled -unceasingly and made innumerable sacrifices. Baffled in the attempt -to reach his ideal, he was a little comforted when he could persuade -himself that he had not fallen completely short of it. And there was -exceeding great reward in the knowledge that if wide recognition as -a poet was denied him, his friends, Whittier, Longfellow, Stoddard, -Boker, and Aldrich, knew for what he was striving and commended him in -no uncertain tones. - -Whittier described Taylor as one who loved ‘old friends, old ways, and -kept his boyhood’s dreams in sight.’ Life was intensely interesting -to Taylor. Although the zest of travel disappeared and his large -experience of the ways of men had had its customary disillusioning -effect, he never really lost his youthful enthusiasm. And it is -touching to find in his private correspondence the repeated proofs of -how inexhaustible was his fund of hope and of courage, and how quick he -was to recover after real or fancied defeat. - -Notwithstanding his successes, and he had his share of the good -things of life,--contemporary reputation, money of his own earning, -and friends,--Bayard Taylor remains, with all his manly qualities, -a somewhat pathetic figure in American letters. He led a restless -and turbulent mental existence, and died the victim of ambition and -overwork. - - -III - -THE ARTIST - -Taylor has been pronounced the most skilful of our metrists after -Longfellow. One illustration only can be given of his interest in the -mechanism of verse, and that is his poetic romance _The Picture of St. -John_. The poem was not published until sixteen years after its first -conception. Possibly its growth was a little retarded by the structural -peculiarities. - -The poem contains three hundred and fifty-five eight-line stanzas -(iambic pentameter) grouped into four books. The ‘ottava rima’ was -chosen as ‘better adapted for the purposes of a romantic epic than -either the Spenserian stanza[57] or the heroic couplet.’ But the -question with the poet was,--how to avoid the ‘uniform sweetness’ of a -regular stanza while obtaining the ‘proper compactness and strength of -rhythm’ which (in his belief) only a stanza could give. His device was -to allow himself freedom of rhyme within the stanza, and this ‘not to -escape the laws which Poetry imposes,’ but rather to impose a different -law in the hope that the form would ‘more readily reflect the varying -moods.’ When finally the poem was finished Taylor found that the three -hundred and fifty-five stanzas contained ‘more than seventy variations -in the order of rhyme.’ - -Only an enthusiast in the study of form would have undertaken the task -of reproducing _Faust_ in the original metres. Taylor’s success was so -great that his work as a translator has obscured his fame as a poet. -Doubtless so nearly perfect a version had been impossible without that -wonderful grasp of the spirit of the original. But it must not be -forgotten how much it owes to the years of study and practice Taylor -gave to the technique of his art. - - -IV - -POETICAL WORK - -In 1855 Taylor published a selection from his earlier books of verse -under the title _Poems of Home and Travel_. By this volume and its -companion, _Poems of the Orient_, he wished, so he said at the time, to -be judged. For all his other pieces he desired ‘speedy forgetfulness.’ - -_Poems of Home and Travel_ shows very well the range of Taylor’s -art. Here are rhymed stories (‘The Soldier and the Pard’ and -‘Kubleh’), graceful settings of classic or Indian legend (‘Hylas’ and -‘Mon-da-Min’), together with a pretty fancy from Shakespeare (‘Ariel -in the Cloven Pine’). A deeper chord is struck in poems of human love -and loss (‘The Two Visions’) and in poems expressing aspiration for the -ideal (‘Love and Solitude’), or in those which voice the poet’s joy in -a life of action and struggle (‘The Life of Earth’ and ‘Taurus’). There -is an ode, ‘The Harp,’ lamenting the silence of song in our America -where there is so much to sing. And there are yet other odes, songs, -and sonnets. - -_Poems of the Orient_ is a typical volume, full of color, warmth, -light, breathing the intoxication and glowing with the fantasy of that -great vague region we call ‘the East.’ The charm of the verses is very -pronounced. How much of what we relish in the volume is really the -spirit of the East can best be told by one who knows both the East and -the poems. Oriental lyrics and romances would be written otherwise -to-day. Taylor was partly under the thrall of that roseate view of the -Orient held by Thomas Moore and his contemporaries. Sir Richard Burton -has popularized a more realistic conception in which love and roses are -less prominent. The flavor of _Poems of the Orient_ may be known by -such pieces as ‘The Temptation of Hassan Ben Khaled,’ ‘Amran’s Wooing’ -(an Oriental version of young Lochinvar), ‘El Khalil,’ ‘Desert Hymn to -the Sun,’ and the popular ‘Bedouin Song.’ - -_The Poet’s Journal_, a group of twenty-nine lyrics connected by a -poetic narrative and divided into First, Second, and Third Evenings, -is plainly autobiographical. Its varying moods of despair and dumb -grief, followed by the stirrings of hope and ambition, and, under the -influence of awakened love, the triumph of the spirit to will and to -do, connect it with the most intimate passages in Taylor’s life. - -_The Picture of St. John_, an Italian romance, seems made for a -popularity it somehow never attained. The worldly ambition of the -artist transfigured by love, the death of the highborn girl who -sacrifices wealth and pride of place for her lover, the unwitting -murder of her child by his grandsire, and the redemption of the artist -after months of conflict with the Power that Denies--these are elements -in a work on which the poet lavished the best of his gifts. - -_Lars_, a Scandinavian study, an idyl of the vales and fiords of -Norway, illustrates Taylor’s cosmopolitanism. Passionately as he loved -the South, he could also exclaim with Ruth, - - I do confess - I love Old Norway’s bleak, tremendous hills, - Where winter sits, and sees the summer burn - In valleys deeper than yon cloud is high: - - * * * * * - - I love the frank, brave habit of the folk, - The hearts unspoiled, though fed from ruder times - And filled with angry blood. - -_Home Pastorals, Ballads, and Lyrics_ contains his fine studies of -Westchester County life, ‘The Quaker Widow,’ ‘John Reed,’ and ‘The Old -Pennsylvania Farmer,’ together with such happily conceived poems as -‘The Sunshine of the Gods,’ ‘Notus Ignoto,’ ‘Iris,’ ‘Implora Pace,’ and -‘Canopus,’ with its richly colored lines. - -Taylor wrote three dramatic poems, none of which his critics are -willing to admit is a success. _The Masque of the Gods_, a lofty -conception, fails (if indeed it is a failure), not through feebleness -of touch, but through brevity. So vast a design needs room to expand. -As it stands, the _Masque_ is a preliminary sketch of what might have -become in the hands of its creator a great canvas. It is something -that the poet has succeeded in awakening pity for the worn-out deities -terrified because of their loss of power, terrified even more by the -possibility that they have no principle of life and are only the -creatures of men’s brains. - -_The Prophet_ was a courageous dramatic experiment, and will always be -read with curiosity if not with pleasure. But to assume that Mormonism -is wholly unfitted for poetic drama is perhaps to assume too much. - -_Prince Deukalion_, written under the inspiration of _Faust_, is -another of those gigantic conceptions with which Taylor’s imagination -loved in later life to busy itself, as if eager to try its powers to -the uttermost. A theme like this, wholly removed from human interest, -dealing with titanic and mythical figures, is the most dangerous in -the whole range of possible subjects. Taylor rises so easily to a -high level of poetic achievement that it seems as if he must presently -touch some mountain peak. Yet he always leaves the impression of really -having the strength to do that in which he fails. He disappoints -through the very display of power. - - * * * * * - -His poetic work lacks idiosyncrasy, and to credit him with having given -rise to a ‘school’ is to be generous rather than just. His talent fell -just short of his ambition. A busy life with its multitude of cares -and interests left him too little time for brooding upon the great -themes he affected, and there was wanting the gift for relentless -self-criticism which operates almost like the creative power. None the -less his countrymen have not begun to discharge the debt of gratitude -they owe him. Taylor had great virtues. It should be imputed to him for -literary righteousness that he was willing to undertake the long poem. -He never, so far as is known, made the excuse our poets continually -offer, and which is almost infantile, that the general public does not -care for long poems,--as if a poet were under any obligation to the -general public. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [57] _The Picture of St. John_ was begun eleven years before - Worsley published his fine version of the _Odyssey_ in - Spenserian stanza. - - - - -XVI - -_George William Curtis_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =Parke Godwin=: _George William Curtis, A Commemorative Address_, - 1892. - - =J. W. Chadwick=: _George William Curtis, an Address_, 1893. - - =Edward Cary=: _George William Curtis_, ‘American Men of - Letters,’ 1894. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -Henry Curtis, who sailed for New England from the port of London on -May 6, 1635, was the founder of the Curtis family in America. His -grandson, John Curtis of Worcester, was ‘a sturdy and open loyalist’ of -Revolutionary times whose personal character was as heartily esteemed -as his political principles were detested. - -George Curtis, a great-grandson of John, married Mary Elizabeth -Burrill, daughter of James Burrill, Jr., Chief-justice of Rhode Island. -Of their two sons George William Curtis was the younger. He was born in -Providence, Rhode Island, on February 24, 1824. - -With his brother James Burrill, his closest friend and almost -inseparable companion, he was sent to C. W. Greene’s school at Jamaica -Plain, near Boston, and remained there five years. He was afterwards -at school in Providence for four years. In New York, whither his -father had removed (in 1839) to become connected with the Bank of -Commerce, Curtis studied under private tutors and had some experience -of practical life in the counting-room of a German importing house. - -The education given the Curtis boys had also an irregular though -very agreeable side. They spent much of the time from 1842 to 1844 -as students at Brook Farm. The greater part of the two following -years they were at Concord, their object being to combine study and -out-of-door life, and above all to be near Emerson. Taking up residence -with one or other of several farmers whose local fame almost equalled -that of the Concord men of letters, they spent half of each day in farm -work and the other half in study or studious idleness. They were to be -found regularly at the Club which met on Monday evenings in Emerson’s -library and which numbered among its members Hawthorne, Thoreau, and -Alcott. - -In August, 1846, provided by his father with a sum of money sufficient -to give him what he called ‘a generous background,’ Curtis went abroad. -He planned to be gone two years, but the background was more than -generous and he did not return until 1850. He travelled leisurely -through France, Germany, Italy, and the East, made notes of what -he saw and used them partly in the form of letters to the New York -‘Courier and Enquirer’ and partly in the famous ‘Howadji’ books. His -literary plans were ambitious, including as they did a life of Mehemet -Ali, on which he worked for some years only to abandon it at last. - -On his return to New York he began writing regularly for the ‘Tribune,’ -and was associated with C. F. Briggs and Parke Godwin in the editorship -of ‘Putnam’s Magazine.’ When the magazine passed into the hands of Dix, -Edwards, and Company, Curtis put money into the firm. By their failure -he not only lost everything he had, but he also assumed a debt for -which he could not have been legally held and devoted the proceeds of -his lectures to paying it. He was eighteen years in ridding himself of -the burden. - -In 1854 he began printing the famous ‘Easy Chair’ papers in ‘Harper’s -Monthly,’ and in 1857 the department of ‘Harper’s Weekly’ called ‘The -Lounger.’ The latter was a frank imitation in part of the _Tatler_ and -_Spectator_, even to the letters from lady correspondents such as Nelly -Lancer, Sabina Griddle, and Xantippe. During the ten years following -his return from abroad Curtis published six books: _Nile Notes of a -Howadji_, 1851; _The Howadji in Syria_, 1852; _Lotus-Eating_, 1852; -_The Potiphar Papers_, 1853; _Prue and I_, 1857; _Trumps_, 1861. His -ambitions had hitherto been chiefly literary. To be sure, in 1856, -at Wesleyan University, Middletown, Connecticut, he had given his -address on ‘The Duty of the American Scholar to Politics and the -Times,’ and had followed it with his oration on ‘Patriotism’ and -his lecture on ‘The Present Aspect of the Slavery Question.’[58] He -had taken the stump for Frémont in 1856, and been a delegate to the -Republican National Convention in 1860, where his courage, adroitness, -and impassioned eloquence had saved the platform at a moment when it -needed salvation. Nevertheless it may be said that the first ten years -of Curtis’s life as a writer and speaker were ‘literary’ with a strong -emphasis on politics, and that the last thirty years were political -with an undiminished interest in letters. - -On Thanksgiving Day, 1856, Curtis married Anna Shaw, a daughter of -F. G. Shaw, formerly of West Roxbury, and a sister of Colonel Robert -Gould Shaw. He had made her acquaintance at Brook Farm twelve years -earlier. There is a pretty reference to her in one of his letters to -Dwight written in 1844. Curtis had been in Boston for the day: ‘Anna -Shaw and Rose Russell passed me like beautiful spirits; one like a -fresh morning, the other like an oriental night.’ - -In 1863 Curtis became the political editor of ‘Harper’s Weekly’ with -the proviso that he was to have a free hand. He represented political -ideals than which there can be no higher; his discussions were marked -by absolute frankness, joined to perfect courtesy. The parts which -fell to him in the drama of political life were always important and -often conspicuous. He was a delegate both to National and to State -conventions, and a delegate-at-large to the convention for revising the -State constitution of New York. Although ‘nominated by acclamation’ -for Secretary of the State of New York (1869), he refused to serve. He -did allow his name to be presented for governor in the convention of -1870, supposing all to be in good faith; but when he discovered that -he was the victim of a trick,--the object being to defeat Greeley,--he -withdrew.[59] - -Next to Anti-slavery his favorite cause was that of Civil Service -reform. In 1865 he became ‘second in command’ to Thomas A. Jenckes of -Rhode Island, the pioneer in the movement. He was the head of the Civil -Service Commission appointed by President Grant in 1871. As president -of the New York Civil Service Reform Association and of the National -Civil Service Reform League, he did a work of immediate and lasting -value. - -In 1877 President Hayes offered Curtis his choice of the foreign -missions, supposing that he would elect to go to England. In refusing -the honor Curtis expressed the doubt whether ‘a man absolutely without -legal training of any kind could be a proper minister.’ Later the -German mission was urged on him, but he saw no reason to change his -former opinion. As an Independent, Curtis voiced opposition to machine -methods in the State campaign of 1879, and in 1884 broke with his party -and gave his support to Cleveland. - -Albeit he was not college bred, Curtis received a full share of the -honorary degrees which American colleges lavish every June upon those -who have acquired reputation. For the two years prior to his death he -was Chancellor of the University of New York. - -The literary work of his middle and later years remains for the most -part embedded in the files of ‘Harper’s Monthly.’ Three or four little -volumes of ‘Easy Chair’ papers (less than a tenth part of the whole -number of his contributions) were printed in 1893–94. Written to serve -an ephemeral purpose, these essays have a permanent value. It is -singular that there is no demand for more reprints of the work of a -writer whose journalism was better than most men’s books. Besides the -‘Easy Chair’ papers there were published posthumously _Orations and -Addresses edited by C. E. Norton_, 1894; _Literary and Social Essays_, -1895; _Ars Recte Vivendi_, 1898; _Early Letters of George William -Curtis to John S. Dwight, edited by G. W. Cooke_, 1898. - -Curtis died, after a long and painful illness, on August 31, 1892. - - -II - -THE MAN - -Of Curtis it may be said that his character is revealed in every line -of his writing and in every act of his public and private life. He -was gracious, winning, generous, quick to forgive, and slow to take -offence. Goodness as exemplified in not a few good men is alike painful -to those who possess it and to those on whom its influence is exerted. -Virtue as exemplified in him never wore the austere garb or the gloomy -countenance. - -At the time of Curtis’s defection from the Republican party incredible -abuse was showered on him, not only in the press but through anonymous -letters. He was much saddened by it, less from the personal point -of view than because of the revelation it gave of the meanness and -vindictiveness of human nature. Having thought too well of his fellows, -he suffered under the disillusionment, all of which goes to show how -optimistic at heart this disciple of Thackeray and writer of satires -was. And when Senator Conkling made a savage personal attack on him in -the New York State convention of 1877, Curtis seems to have had no -feeling towards his enemy but that of pity: ‘It was the saddest sight -I ever knew, that man glaring at me in a fury of hate and storming out -his foolish blackguardism.’ - -If Curtis’s career illustrates one thing above another, it is his -willingness to sacrifice mental ease and personal comfort for an ideal. -But the sacrifice was made with such good nature, such grace in the -acquiescence, that one forgets its extent, and even makes the mistake -of thinking that possibly it cost him little. Undoubtedly it cost him -much, this giving up of literature for politics, this putting aside of -all public honors because there was a nearer duty which could not be -neglected. - - -III - -THE WRITER AND THE ORATOR - -The author of _Nile Notes of a Howadji_ loved alliteration. In his -early books he amused himself with pleasant arrangements of words such -as ‘camels with calm, contemptuous eyes,’ or ‘lustrous leaves languidly -moving,’ or ‘slim minarets spiring silverly and strangely from the -undefined mass of mud houses.’ Note this description of the date-palm: -‘Plumed as a prince and graceful as a gentleman, stands the date; and -whoever travels among palms travels in good society;’ or this of the -sakias: ‘Like huge summer insects they doze upon the bank, droning a -melancholy, monotonous song. The slow, sad sound pervades the land--one -calls to another, and he sighs to his neighbor, and the Nile is shored -with sound no less than sand.’ - -Alliteration is a mark of youth. Employed to excess it has a cloying -effect, like that of diminished sevenths in music. Of minor rhetorical -arts it is the poorest, the most seductive, the most readily abused. -But we should miss it sadly from the ‘Howadji’ books. Removed from the -context these phrases quoted have an artificial sound, in their place -they blend perfectly. - -Curtis’s style grew less florid and sensuous after the early writings. -At all times it is singularly easy. One gets the impression that he was -a spontaneous writer. Great productivity is not possible when there -must be a constant retouching of phrases and paragraphs. The unlabored -nature of his writing may explain the light estimate Curtis put on it. -He is said to have been quite unwilling to reprint a volume of essays -from the ‘Easy Chair.’ That anything which came with so little effort -could be worth re-reading seemed not to occur to him. - -He was the orator almost as soon as he was the man of letters. A -rhetorician by taste and training, he knew the dangers of rhetoric and -in his oratory avoided them. Clarity and grace are the most obvious -characteristics of every sentence. Curtis could no more have been -awkward and heavy than he could have been obscure. - -He can hardly be praised enough for the ease and naturalness of his -allusions. We auditors grow restless when a speaker begins to cite -classical names. We fear our old friends Cicero and Catiline, Cæsar and -Brutus. We cannot away with Hannibal and Hamilcar. The ear has been -dulled by constant repetition. Curtis knew how to make the oldest of -these tiresome references seem new. All his allusions have an air of -freshness and spontaneity. One would suppose the declaimers had long -since exhausted the virtues of Spartacus. Curtis dared to make the old -gladiator accessory to his argument in a passage like this:-- - -‘Spartacus was a barbarian, a pagan, and a slave. Escaping he summoned -other men whose liberty was denied. His call rang clear through Italy -like an autumn storm through the forest, and men answered him like -clustering leaves.... He had no rights that Romans were bound to -respect, but he wrote out in blood upon the plains of Lombardy his -equal humanity with Cato and Cæsar. The tale is terrible. History -shudders with it still. But you and I, Plato and Shakespeare, the -mightiest and the meanest men, were honored in Spartacus, for his wild -revenge showed the brave scorn of oppression that beats immortal in the -proud heart of man.’ - -Nature had bestowed on Curtis gifts which, if not indispensable to a -speaker, are like free-will offerings as against tribute, and make -the pathway smooth. His commanding presence, his winning smile and -manner, his glorious voice, the air of high breeding, a self-possession -which when accompanied by unaffected good nature is one of the most -attractive traits--all combined to place him among the first of -American orators. He was properly said (in a phrase which through vain -repetition has almost lost its meaning) to ‘grace’ the platform. - - -IV - -_NILE NOTES OF A HOWADJI_, _PRUE AND I_, _TRUMPS_ - -‘In Shakespeare’s day the nuisance was the Monsieur Travellers who had -swum in a gundello,’ wrote Fitzgerald in a half-petulant, half-humorous -mood, ‘but now the bores are those who have smoked _tchibouques_ with a -_Peshaw_!’ He was speaking of _Eothen_. The fever for Eastern books was -at its height when Curtis went abroad in 1846. - -The _Nile Notes of a Howadji_ describes the four weeks’ flight of the -‘Ibis’ up the river to Aboo Simbel, and the ‘course of temples’ on the -return voyage. It is a book of impressions and rhapsodies, a glowing -record of travel in which realism struggles with poetry and is usually -worsted. It is a dream of the Orient, delightfully parsimonious as to -improving facts, and prodigal of whatever helps the home-keeping reader -to comprehend the witchery and fascination of the East. A few timid -souls were disturbed by ‘Fair Frailty’ and ‘Kushuk Arnem,’ which seem -innocent enough now, but the timid souls no doubt found peace in other -chapters, such as ‘Under the Palms.’ - -_The Howadji in Syria_ continues the record. The conditions are -changed. Instead of the dahabieh, the camel; for the Ibis was -substituted MacWhirter, whose exertions in trotting ‘shook my soul -within me;’ for the mud villages and mysterious temples of the Nile, -Jerusalem, Acre, Damascus. The temper of the book differs from that of -its predecessor. In this volume Curtis is poetical, in the other he was -a poet. The mocking American note is heard, as when the Howadji says -‘a storm besieged us in Nablous and a fellow Christian of the Armenian -persuasion secured us for his fleas, during the time we remained.’ -The Howadji has evidently undergone a measure of disenchantment. The -wonders of the East are less wonderful because less vague. In Egypt -there was intoxication, in Palestine and Syria there is curiosity, -mingled with amusement and contempt. The characteristic quality of the -second Howadji book is to be found in the descriptions of the cafés, -the bazaars, and in that most excellent account of the Turkish bath -(‘Uncle Kühleborn’), quite the best thing of the kind that has been -written. - -_Lotus-Eating_ is a series of journalistic letters on the Hudson, -Trenton Falls, Niagara, Saratoga, Newport, and Nahant, when Nahant was -‘a shower of little brown cottages fallen upon the rocky promontory -that terminates Lynn beach.’ Not in this wise do young men now write -for newspapers, with ornate periods and quotations from Waller and -Herrick. The book abounds in happy characterizations. At Saratoga ‘we -discriminate the arctic and antarctic Bostonians, fair, still, stately, -with a vein of scorn in their Saratoga enjoyment, and the languid, -cordial, and careless Southerners, far from precise in dress or style, -but balmy in manner as a bland Southern morning. We mark the crisp -courtesy of the New Yorker, elegant in dress, exclusive in association, -a pallid ghost of Paris--without its easy elegance, its _bonhomie_, -its gracious _savoir faire_, without the _spirituel_ sparkle of its -conversation, and its natural and elastic grace of style.’ And so it -runs on. - -_The Potiphar Papers_ is in another key. The placid observer, who, -in _Lotus-Eating_, quoted from De Quincey a delectable passage on -the poetry of dancing, is now a bitter satirist contemplating a -corps-de-ballet of society buds gyrating in the arms of the _jeunesse -dorée_. These ‘bounding belles’ and their admirers shock the observer -with a style of dancing which in its whirl, its ‘rush, its fury is -only equalled by that of the masked balls at the French opera.’ The -book is a new treatment (new in 1853) of the old subject of Vanity -Fair. The humor is severe. The touch is not light and the caustic -writing is not happy. Curtis was never a master of the whip of -scorpions. Nevertheless _The Potiphar Papers_ had a vogue. - -_Prue and I_ is a book of the sort Zola used to hate--literature -which ‘consoles with the lies of the imagination.’ It is the idyl -of contented obscurity, the poetic side of humble life. Delicately -wrought, light in texture, shot with charming fancies and dainty -conceits, having the grace that belongs to old-school manners, this -little prose poem is justly accounted its author’s masterpiece. - -Curtis wrote one novel, _Trumps_, and was disappointed in the result. -The book is readable, but not because it is a story. Many good -novelists are made, not born. _Trumps_ is the work of a novelist in the -making. - - -V - -THE EASY CHAIR - -The twenty-seven essays of the volume entitled _From the Easy Chair_ -show very well in brief compass the range of their author’s powers -in this form. Here are reminiscences of Browning and his wife, of -the Dickens readings in ’67, of Everett’s oratory and Jennie Lind’s -singing, of a lecture by Emerson and a recital by Gottschalk or by -Thalberg, of a night at the play-house with Jefferson, or a dinner at -the old (the _very old_) Delmonico’s, when that famous eating-house -stood at the corner of Broadway and Chambers Street. The flavor of -by-gone days is here. ‘It was a pleasant little New York,’ says the -essayist regretfully, being mindful of the charm which a lively small -city possesses, and which a big city, be it never so lively, somehow -lacks. - -Half the attractiveness of the ‘Easy Chair’ papers is due to their -seemingly unpremeditated character. Curtis was not writing a book, -nor was he proposing at some time, ‘in response to the earnest -solicitations of friends upon whose judgment I rely,’ to collect and -republish these fugitive leaves. He comes home after a little chat, -perhaps, with John Gilbert and sits down to tell us about it. Two -or three reflections suggested by the interview are thrown in quite -happily, and while we listeners are most absorbed and in no mood to -have him break off, Curtis rises, and with some pleasant little remark, -nods, and smiles, and is gone. And one of the listeners says, ‘I wish -we saw him oftener. He comes only once a month.’ - -The ‘Easy Chair’ papers are urban as well as urbane. Curtis was a city -man. We know that he had a summer home in ‘Arcadia’ and was happy -there, but his joy in city life is betrayed in almost every paper he -wrote. No passionate lover of nature, intent on fringed gentians and -purling brooks, penned that description of a gown--‘a mass of pleats -and puffs and marvelous trimmings, which, when profusely extravagant -upon the form of an elderly woman, always reminds me of signals of -distress hung out upon a craft that is drifting far away from the -enchanted isles of youth.’ - -Satirist though he is, Curtis in the ‘Easy Chair’ is always the gentle -satirist. He writes of the mannerless sex, of the people who rent boxes -at the opera because they can talk better there than at home, of the -taste of the town so greedy for minute details of the doings of the -rich and the fashionable, but there is no acerbity in his tone. Here -is an illustration of his manner. The Cosmopolitan of the ‘Easy Chair’ -talks with Mrs. Grundy, who proposes as a great boon to introduce -him to a very rich man. ‘“You say he is very rich?” “Enormously, -fabulously,” replied Mrs. Grundy, as if crossing herself.’ - -‘Trifles light as air’ would be a not inadequate description of -hundreds of the ‘Easy Chair’ papers. And they are quite as wholesome as -air. - - -VI - -_ORATIONS AND ADDRESSES_ - -Curtis’s biographer holds that the volume of reports and addresses on -Civil Service reform is ‘in some respects the most valuable of all -[his] writings.’[60] The entire collection of _Orations and Addresses_, -comprising over a thousand pages, is no less a manual of literary than -of civic virtues. A student of the art of expression can well afford to -make this book his vade mecum. Here is a body of practical illustration -of how to write and how to speak. The oration on ‘The Duty of the -American Scholar to Politics and the Times,’ delivered when Curtis was -thirty-two years of age, is an extraordinary performance. Few addresses -hold one in the reading like this. What it must have been in the -delivery we can but faintly imagine. It is another splendid proof that -literature and oratory may occupy a common ground, neither usurping -the other’s place. With the amplest use of oratorical arts the speaker -makes rhetoric subordinate to thought. It shows fully (does this -oration) one marked virtue of Curtis’s public discourse, its perfect -urbanity. His speeches were free from invective, from personalities of -any sort, from every feature born of mere impulse of the moment. If he -was ever tempted to give vigor and point to his phrase by means which -must afterward be regretted, temptation never got the better of him. - -The leading thesis of the Wesleyan College oration--that the scholar -is not the recluse, the pale valetudinarian, a woman without woman’s -charm, but a man--may not have been new; but the putting was fresh, -vivid, inspiring, eloquent. The oration may be compared with Emerson’s -utterances on the same theme. Emerson’s treatment is the more -philosophical; that of Curtis is the better adapted to public speech. - -Along with this oration should be read the address on ‘Patriotism,’ in -which Curtis defends the doctrine that where law violates the primary -conception of human rights it is our duty to disobey the law, and the -address entitled ‘The Present Aspect of the Slavery Question,’ in which -Curtis said, ‘Government is, unquestionably, a science of compromises, -but only of policies and interests, not of essential rights; and if of -them, then the sacrifice must fall on all.’ - -These three are but the beginning of a series of orations from among -which the great eulogies of Sumner and of Wendell Phillips, of Bryant -and of Lowell, may be chosen as the very crown of his work. - - * * * * * - -The critic (and there are such critics) who values almost lightly the -sentimental and poetic literary work of Curtis’s young manhood is -perhaps not entirely unjust; Curtis would have agreed with him. But -the critic would be unjust if he overlooked the value of this literary -training in giving an enormous increase of power. We shall never know -how much the editorial writer and political orator gained in clarity, -precision, beauty of style, effectiveness, by the penning of a series -of books in which for pages together he revels in the mere music of -words. The author of the address on Sumner was largely indebted to the -author of the _Nile Notes of a Howadji_ and _Prue and I_. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [58] When Curtis gave this address in Philadelphia (Dec. 15, 1859) - a mob armed with stones and bottles of vitriol attempted to - break up the meeting. Cary’s _Curtis_, pp. 126–129. - - [59] Cary. - - [60] Cary’s _Curtis_, p. 296. - - - - -XVII - -_Donald Grant Mitchell_ - - -REFERENCES: - - [=H. A. Beers=]: ‘Donald G. Mitchell’ in the _Cyclopædia of - American Biography_. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -Donald Grant Mitchell, who won literary reputation under the name of -‘Ik Marvel,’ was born at Norwich, Connecticut, on April 12, 1822. -He is a son of the Reverend Alfred Mitchell, formerly pastor of the -Second Congregational Church of Norwich, and a grandson of Stephen Mix -Mitchell, an eminent jurist and member of the Continental Congress. -He prepared for college at John Hall’s school at Ellington, and was -graduated at Yale in 1841. - -Three years of life on a farm for his health gave him a bent towards -rural pleasures and occupations. In 1844, still in pursuit of health, -he visited England, the Isle of Jersey, France, and Holland. His -first book, _Fresh Gleanings, or a New Sheaf from the Old Fields of -Continental Europe_ (1847), was the literary fruit of this journey. - -Mitchell took up the study of law in New York, but found himself -physically unequal to a sedentary life. Moreover, France was on the -eve of revolution. The young law student thought it no time to dawdle -over Puffendorf, Grotius, and ‘the amiable, aristocratic Blackstone,’ -when there was a chance to see history made. He ‘threw Puffendorf, big -as he was, into the corner,’ and started for Paris, spent eight months -there, saw what he went to see, and described it in his second book, -_Battle Summer_ (1850).[61] - -His third literary venture was a periodical essay, _The Lorgnette, or -Studies of the Town, by an Opera-Goer_. It was published weekly for -six months, and sold by Henry Kernot, ‘a small bookseller up Broadway, -at the centre of what was then the fashionable shopping region.’ For -a time the secret of the authorship was well kept, Kernot being as -much in the dark as the public. To divert suspicion from himself, -Mitchell thought to bring out in a distant city, and under his own -name, something ‘of an entirely different quality and tone’ from _The -Lorgnette_. He failed in getting a Boston publisher, and _Reveries of -a Bachelor_, the book in question, was published by Baker and Scribner -in New York (1850). Its success led to the making of another series of -‘reveries.’ This was _Dream Life_, written in six weeks of the summer -and published in the fall of 1851. On these two books ‘Ik Marvel’s’ -reputation with the general reading public still rests. - -In May, 1853, Mitchell was appointed United States consul at Venice. On -the thirty-first of the same month he married Miss Mary F. Pringle, of -Charleston, South Carolina, and in June sailed for Italy. The account -of his induction into the consular office will be found in _Seven -Stories_. A lively and good-humored narrative, it is not to be read -without great amusement, together with a feeling of contempt for the -shabby way in which our glorious (and sometimes parsimonious) republic -used to treat its humbler officials. During the two years of his -consulship Mitchell collected materials for a history of the Venetian -Republic. The book is still unpublished, and presumably has been long -since abandoned. - -The days of his public service being at an end, Mitchell returned to -America and settled on an estate near New Haven (‘Edgewood’), where -since 1855 he has led the life of a man of letters and gentleman -farmer. In addition to the books already named, he has published: -_Fudge Doings_, 1855; _My Farm of Edgewood_, 1863; _Seven Stories_, -1864; _Wet Days at Edgewood_, 1865; _Doctor Johns_, 1866; _Rural -Studies_, 1867;[62] _About Old Story Tellers_, 1877; _The Woodbridge -Record_, 1883; _Bound Together_, 1884; _English Lands, Letters, and -Kings_, 1889–90; _American Lands and Letters_, 1897. - -For a time Mitchell was editor of the ‘Atlantic Almanac’ (1868–69), -and for one year (1869) editor of ‘Hearth and Home.’ He served as one -of the judges of industrial art at the Centennial Exhibition (1876), -and was a United States commissioner at the Paris Exposition of 1878. -He has lectured much on literature and art. Yale recognized his -achievements in letters by conferring on him, in 1878, the degree of -LL. D. - -He is one of the most attractive figures of our time, not alone -because of his unaffected goodness, his charm of manner, his literary -reputation, but because he is the last survivor of a group of writers -who in the Fifties made New York famous, and about whose association -there still clings a very attractive atmosphere of romance. - - -II - -THE AUTHOR AND THE MAN - -A critic who was given a copy of _Dream Life_ and asked to draw the -character of the author therefrom, might possibly come to conclusions -like these. ‘Ik Marvel,’ he would say, must be very generous, -sympathetic with respect to the lesser weaknesses of human nature, and -charitable towards the greater, or else this book is a falsehood from -beginning to end. He must be very manly, for in all its two hundred -pages there is not a cynical note or a sneer. He must be humorous, or -he could not have written the chapters on ‘A New England Squire’ and -‘The Country Church,’ to say nothing of the account of the loves of -Clarence and Jenny. He must be sentimental, or the chapter entitled ‘A -Good Wife’ had been an impossibility. - -At every point the book betrays its Puritan origin. ‘Ik Marvel’ is -a moralist. He makes a direct and constant appeal to the ethical -sentiment. In one of his prefaces he mentions the fact--doubtless an -amused smile played about his lips as he wrote the lines--that _Dream -Life_ has sometimes insinuated itself into Sunday-school libraries. -He hopes it has ‘worked no blight there.’ At all events, ‘there are -six days in the week ... on which its perusal could do no mischief.’ -Doubtless the moral lessons are commonplace enough, but their triteness -is relieved by the literary quality. Puritanism without its narrowness, -and sentimentalism controlled by humor and good sense, lie at the basis -of _Reveries of a Bachelor_ and _Dream Life_. The character of their -author is to be plainly if not completely read in these two books. - -The distinctive flavor of ‘Ik Marvel’s’ literary style may be got in -the pleasing volume entitled _Fresh Gleanings_. Limpidity, grace, ease, -are among the virtues of his prose. The fabric of words is light, airy, -richly colored at times, but not over colored. With due recognition of -his individuality it may be said that ‘Ik Marvel’ was a literary son of -‘Geoffrey Crayon.’ The sweetness, the leisurely flow of the narrative, -the unobtrusiveness of manner, all suggest Irving. Perhaps Mitchell -meant to acknowledge his literary paternity when he dedicated _Dream -Life_ to the author of _The Sketch Book_. But while we recognize this -debt to Irving it is most important that we do not exaggerate it. - -One marked exception must be made. There is no hint of Irving in -_Battle Summer_, an account of the Revolution of 1848, every page of -which echoes more or less distinctly the voice of Carlyle. So close is -the imitation at times as to awaken a doubt whether _Battle Summer_ was -not intended for a ‘serious parody.’ At all events, it is one of many -proofs of the strong hold the _History of the French Revolution_ had on -the minds of young men. - - -III - -THE WRITINGS - -_Fresh Gleanings_ is a volume of travel, written in a way to -persuade one of the uselessness of pictorial illustrations. Its -manner occasionally suggests Sterne’s _Sentimental Journey_, which -the young traveller may have been reading of late. Sentiment and -humor are agreeably blended. Under ‘Ik Marvel’s’ guidance one visits -Paris, Limoges, Arles, Nîmes, Montpellier, Rouen, carefully avoiding -the ‘objects of interest’ and learning much about the life. A less -courageous writer would have told us more and shown us less. - -Books like this always contain interpolated stories, told around the -inn fire, or over the half-cup at the café. The ‘Story of Le Merle,’ -‘An Old Chronicle of the City,’ ‘Hinzelmann,’ and ‘Boldo’s Story’ are -graceful, but so brief as to seem mere anecdotes. - -_The Lorgnette_, consisting of the lucubrations of one ‘John Timon,’ -is an amusing and instructive periodical. Not its least entertaining -feature is the account of the literary distempers of the day, the -Tupper fever, the Festus outbreak, the Jane Eyre malady, and the -Typee disorder, together with other literary epidemics. Neither _The -Lorgnette_ nor _Fudge Doings_ is now much read. But if the modern -cynic, who takes, possibly, a condescending attitude towards these old -satires on fashionable life, will but pick up a copy of _Fudge Doings_ -and try a few chapters, he will be forced to admit that if we should -not to-day think of writing satire in this manner, it may have been a -good way in 1855. Perchance in opening the volume at random he comes on -the account of the adventure of Wash. Fudge with the black domino. In -which case he will find himself betrayed into reading two chapters at -least, for he must needs take the trouble to learn how the affair ended. - -_Fudge Doings_ and _The Lorgnette_ may be looked on as a contribution -to the history of manners. By their aid one reconstructs the drama -of fashionable life in the mid-century, sees what was then thought -monstrous, and incidentally learns how simple the vices of the -grandfathers were. - -_Reveries of a Bachelor_ ushers one into a quaint and delightful world. -The reveries are of love--whether, in the words of Robert Burton -quoting Plotinus, ‘it be a God, or a divell, or passion of the minde.’ -The book is by no means compounded exclusively of moonshine and roses. -Some of the pictures are calculated to give a bachelor pause. Here -is Peggy who loves you, or at least swears it, with her hand on the -_Sorrows of Werther_. She is not bad looking, Peggy, ‘save a bit too -much of forehead.’ But she is ‘such a sad blue’ who will spend her -money on the ‘Literary World’ and the _Friends in Council_. - -By the severer standards of our day Peggy was not so much of a ‘blue.’ -None the less she is distinctly literary. She reads Dante and ‘funny -Goldoni’ and leaves spots of baby-gruel on a Tasso of 1680. She adores -La Bruyère; even reads him while nurse gets dinner and ‘you are holding -the baby.’ - -The vision presently becomes terrific and can only be dispelled by a -vicious kick at the forestick. Revery, misnamed idleness, has its -uses. Whatever else comes true, the Bachelor will not marry a young -woman who consoles her husband for an ill-cooked dinner by quotations -from the Greek Anthology. - -_Dream Life_ is also a collection of ‘reveries.’ Under the similitude -of the seasons, the author has pencilled little sketches of boyhood, -youth, manhood, and age. The temptation to the obvious in morals and -sentiment must have been great; but again Mitchell’s literary skill and -his humor carry him through successfully. - -_Seven Stories with Basement and Attic_ is a group of narratives -drawn from the author’s ‘plethoric little note books of travel.’ The -‘Basement’ is the introduction, the ‘Attic’ the conclusion. The first -story, ‘Wet Day at an Irish Inn,’ shows how, if he be observant, a man -may have adventures without taking the trouble to cross the street in -search of them. Three of the stories are French (‘Le Petit Soulier,’ -‘The Cabriolet,’ and ‘Emile Roque’); another is Swiss (the ‘Bride of -the Ice King’); yet another is Italian (‘Count Pesaro’), and all are -exquisite, written in a style which for sweetness and unaffected ease -is, if not a lost art, at all events a neglected one. It has been said -that our young men would not care to write in this fashion to-day; it -is a question whether our young men would be able to do so. - -One novel stands to ‘Ik Marvel’s’ credit, _Doctor Johns_, a story of -a New England country parsonage, well written because its author could -not write otherwise, faithful and exact because he knew the life, -yet going no deeper than other attempts to explain the New England -character, the externals of which are so easy to portray and the real -essence so baffling. - -Among the best of ‘Ik Marvel’s’ books are those dealing with rural -life. _My Farm of Edgewood_ sets forth the author’s adventures in -buying a country home, and his subsequent adventures in settling -therein and making life variously profitable. It is a successful -attempt to magnify the office of gentleman-farmer. The attractiveness -of the life is not over-emphasized, nor is it pretended that that is -legitimate farming which produces big crops regardless of expense. - -The picture as a whole is seductive in ways not to be referred to -the literary skill of the artist. It is odd enough how a lay-reader, -unused to carrots and cabbages, will follow every detail of Mitchell’s -experiment. Here must be some outcroppings of the primitive instinct. -Moreover, the book relates to home-making, a subject perennially dear -to the American heart. Our restlessness has never unsettled us in that -regard. - -_Wet Days at Edgewood_ is a companion volume. The days here celebrated, -nine in number, were made bright by readings about ‘old farmers, old -gardeners, and old pastorals.’ Rejoicing in the strong common sense -of ancient writers on husbandry, and in the quaint flavor of their -style, ‘Ik Marvel’ chats of Roman farm and villa life, recalling what -Varro and Columella had to say about the art of tilling the soil. He -takes pleasure in the reflection that ‘yon open furrow ... carries -trace of the ridging in the “Works and Days;” that the brown field of -half-broken clods is the fallow (Νεός) of Xenophon,’ and that ‘Cato -gives orders for the asparagus.’ - -Then he comes to modern times, to the days of Thomas Tusser, Sir Hugh -Platt, Gervase Markham, Samuel Hartlib, Jethro Tull, and William -Shenstone, men who farmed practically, or theoretically, or even -poetically. ‘Ik Marvel’ loves them all, even those whose enthusiasm was -in the ratio of their helplessness. No less dear to him is Goldsmith, -who wrote what passes for a rural tale and is not rural at all, but -comically urban, and Charles Lamb, who hated the country and gladly -avowed it. - -These are Mitchell’s principal works. Having read thus far, it were -a pity to overlook the two volumes on _English Lands, Letters, and -Kings_, and a greater pity to overlook the instructive and entertaining -_American Lands and Letters_. In brief, the reader who insists on -knowing ‘Ik Marvel’ only by _Reveries of a Bachelor_ does his author an -injustice and robs himself of many hours of literary delight. - -Sentimentalism will always manifest itself in literature in one -form or another. That there will be a return to the manner which we -associate with ‘Ik Marvel’ is not likely, yet it was sentimentalism -in its manliest form. The continued popularity of _Reveries of a -Bachelor_ suggests that Americans of to-day are not quite as cynical -and irreverent as they are sometimes painted, or as they love to paint -themselves. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [61] There were to have been two volumes of _Battle Summer_, - called respectively the ‘Reign of the Blouse’ and the ‘Reign - of the Bourgeoisie.’ Only the first was published. - - [62] Reprinted under the title _Out-of-Town Places_, 1884. - - - - -XVIII - -_JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =F. H. Underwood=: _The Poet and the Man: Recollections and - Appreciations of James Russell Lowell_, 1893. - - =E. E. Hale=: _James Russell Lowell and his Friends_, 1899. - - =H. E. Scudder=: _James Russell Lowell, a Biography_, 1901. - - =Ferris Greenslet=: _James Russell Lowell, his Life and Work_, - 1905. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -The Lowells of New England are descendants of Percival Lowell, a -prosperous Bristol merchant who came to America in 1639 and settled -at Newbury, Massachusetts. The family has been distinguished through -its various representatives for public spirit and business acumen as -well as for a devotion to letters. The grandfather of the poet, Judge -John Lowell, was author of the clause in the Bill of Rights abolishing -slavery in Massachusetts. One of his sons was founder of the great -manufacturing city on the Merrimac which bears his name. A grandson -established the Lowell Institute, a system of popular instruction by -free courses of lectures,--a system unique, in that it aims to bring to -its audiences representative scholars, chosen less for their skill in -the graceful but often specious art of public speaking than for solid -attainments. - -James Russell Lowell, the youngest son of the Reverend Charles -Lowell, minister of the West Church in Boston, was born at Cambridge, -Massachusetts, in the colonial mansion known as ‘Elmwood,’ on February -22, 1819. His mother, Harriet (Spence) Lowell, was a daughter of Keith -Spence, of Portsmouth, New Hampshire.[63] - -Under William Wells (an English pedagogue of the old school) Lowell -prepared for college, entered Harvard, and after some disciplinary -tribulations was graduated with his class (1838). He studied law and -was admitted to the bar (August, 1840), but remained briefless during -the few months of his efforts to begin a practice. - -While waiting for clients, he busied himself with literature. He was -early a rhymer. At twelve years of age his skill in making verse -had astonished his schoolfellows, one of whom rushed home in great -excitement to announce that ‘Jemmy Lowell thought he was going to be a -poet.’ - -With the fearlessness of youth and in the hope of bettering himself -financially, Lowell, aided by his friend Robert Carter, started a -magazine, ‘The Pioneer.’ According to the prospectus, dated October -15, 1842, the editors proposed to supply ‘the intelligent and -reflecting portion of the Reading Public with a substitute for the -enormous quantity of thrice diluted trash, in the shape of namby-pamby -love tales and sketches, which is monthly poured out to them....’ Only -three numbers of ‘The Pioneer’ were issued.[64] The ‘Reading Public’ -was joined to its idols and declined to encourage ‘a healthy and manly -Periodical Literature.’ - -In 1841 was published _A Year’s Life_, Lowell’s first volume of verse; -it was followed by _Poems_ (1844), by a volume of prose, _Conversations -on Some of the Old Poets_ (1845), and by Poems, ‘second series’ (1848). - -The ‘Ianthe’ of _A Year’s Life_ was easily identified with Maria White, -the gifted and beautiful girl who, in December, 1844, became the poet’s -wife. The first year of their married life was passed in Philadelphia, -whither Lowell had taken his bride to protect her from the harsh New -England winter. Their financial resources were few, but of gayety and -courage there was no lack. Lowell aspired to live by his pen. What with -the small sums paid him (rather against his will) for editorial work -on ‘The Pennsylvania Freeman,’ what with the hardly larger sums for -contributions to ‘Graham’s Magazine’ and ‘The Broadway Journal,’ he -managed to subsist. - -Nevertheless, it seemed best for a number of reasons that the young -people return to Cambridge and make a common home at ‘Elmwood’ with -Lowell’s parents. In June of this year (1846) appeared ‘A Letter from -Mr. Ezekiel Biglow of Jaalam to the Hon. Joseph T. Buckingham, editor -of the Boston Courier, inclosing a poem of his son, Mr. Hosea Biglow.’ -This was the first of _The Biglow Papers_, the initial attack of many -attacks Lowell was to make on slavery with the weapons of satire -and ridicule. During 1847 three more ‘papers’ were printed in the -‘Courier;’ the remaining five appeared in ‘The National Anti-Slavery -Standard.’ - -When the ‘Standard’ passed from the control of a board of editors into -the hands of Sydney Howard Gay, Lowell became a salaried contributor, -and for a time his name appeared as corresponding editor. He was -allowed a free hand. Abolitionist though he was, his abolitionism was -tempered with a deal of sympathy for slaveholders. And he had interests -which most reformers of the time lacked, a passionate love of letters, -for example. Hence it was that in the midst of leader-writing he was -penning _A Fable for Critics_ and _The Vision of Sir Launfal_. - -The winter of 1851–52 Lowell spent with his family in Italy, and the -following spring and summer in journeyings through France, England, -Scotland, and Wales. In October he sailed for home, having as ship -companions Thackeray and Arthur Hugh Clough. Just a year later Mrs. -Lowell died (October 27, 1853). For months afterward Lowell was in -‘great agony of mind, and he had to force himself into those laborious -hours which one instinctively feels contain a wise restorative.’[65] - -He abounded in literary plans, some of which (and among them a novel) -were never carried out, whereas others, his papers in ‘Putnam’s -Magazine’ and his lectures on English Poetry, before the Lowell -Institute, were in a high degree successful. Each lecture of the -Institute course had to be given twice, so great was the demand for -tickets. Lowell was very nervous over his first platform experience, -and not a little pleased when he found that he could hold the audience -an hour and a quarter (‘they are in the habit of going out at the end -of the hour’). The singular merit of the lectures led to his being -appointed to the chair of belles-lettres at Harvard, just resigned by -Longfellow. After a year’s study abroad the new professor entered on -his academic duties (September, 1856). - -In 1857 Lowell married Miss Frances Dunlap, of Portland, Maine. She -was a woman of reserved though gracious manners and rare beauty, who -through her serene temper and fine critical sagacity, together with -a keen sense of the humorous, exerted a most beneficent influence on -Lowell’s life. - -The burdens of college work were not so heavy as to prevent Lowell’s -assuming the editorship of ‘The Atlantic Monthly,’ a new literary -magazine with an anti-slavery bias. He held this post from 1857 to -1861, and proved to be one of the best of editors, though routine -was irksome to him, and the vagaries of contributors called for -more patience than he could at all times command. Two years after -leaving the ‘Atlantic’ he undertook to edit the ‘North American -Review’ in company with Charles Eliot Norton, on whom fell the chief -responsibilities. Lowell, for his part, contributed to the ‘Review’ -many notable papers on politics and literature. - -The Civil War called out much of Lowell’s most spirited prose and not a -little of his best poetry. A second series of _Biglow Papers_ appeared -in the ‘Atlantic,’ and for the commemoration of sons of Harvard who had -fought for the Union, Lowell wrote his magnificent _Commemoration Ode_. -This noble performance was literally an improvisation, written in a -single night. - -At this point we may take note of Lowell’s publications, subsequent -to the _Poems_, ‘second series.’ They are: _A Fable for Critics_, -1848; _The Biglow Papers_, 1848; _Fireside Travels_, 1864; _The -Biglow Papers_, ‘second series,’ 1866; _Under the Willows and Other -Poems_, 1869; _The Cathedral_, 1870; _Among My Books_, 1870; _My -Study Windows_, 1871; _Among My Books_, ‘second series,’ 1876; -_Three Memorial Poems_, 1877; _Democracy and Other Addresses_, 1887; -_Political Addresses_, 1888; _Heartsease and Rue_, 1888. - -There appeared posthumously _Latest Literary Essays_, 1891; _The Old -English Dramatists_, 1892; _Letters of James Russell Lowell, edited by -C. E. Norton_, 1893; _Last Poems_, 1895; _The Anti-Slavery Papers of -James Russell Lowell_, 1902. - -Lowell resigned his professorship in 1872 and went abroad for two -years. Oxford conferred on him the degree of D. C. L. and Cambridge -that of LL. D.; it pleased him to regard the Cambridge degree ‘as in -a measure a friendly recognition of the University’s daughter in the -American Cambridge.’ In 1874 he returned home, and on the opening of -college was persuaded to resume his lectures. - -During the presidential campaign of 1876 Lowell became politically -active in ways new to him. He was a delegate to the Republican National -convention and a presidential elector. His fellow-townsmen had wished -him to accept a nomination for representative in Congress; but Lowell -refused, believing himself unqualified for the post. - -Not long after his inauguration President Hayes, at the instance of -W. D. Howells, offered Lowell the Austrian mission, an honor the poet -felt impelled to decline; when, however, it was learned that he would -be very willing to go to Spain, the appointment was made. He arrived -in Madrid on August 14, 1878. Two years later he was transferred to -England. Reappointed by President Garfield, he held this important -charge until the close of President Arthur’s administration. - -Few ministers have been as popular as he. And not the least factor of -his popularity in England was his sturdy patriotism. Lowell was the -author of the essay ‘On a Certain Condescension in Foreigners,’ an -essay which an ingratiating Anglican clergyman[66] says was meant to be -‘overheard’ in England. It were more exact to say that the essay was -meant to be heard, and heard distinctly. ‘They honor stoutness in each -other,’ said Emerson, noting the traits of the English people. And it -is not unreasonable to believe that they also admire the same virtue in -others. - -The summer of 1885 Lowell passed at Southborough, forty miles from -Boston, the home of his daughter, Mrs. Burnett. He made a number -of public addresses, gave a Lowell Institute course of lectures on -the ‘Old English Dramatists,’ argued the question of International -Copyright before a committee of the Senate, and is believed to have had -real influence in persuading representatives of this great country that -stealing is a sin. He found himself inveigled into an author’s reading, -and humorously bewailed his weakness in ever having written a line of -poetry. The demands upon him were enormous. It was now an effort for -him to do things, and if the grasshopper had not yet become a burden, -public occasions had, and more than once he was obliged to beg off from -keeping a promise inconsiderately made. - -He enjoyed being in England for the summer, and usually divided his -time between London and Whitby. The last of these visits took place in -1889. The ensuing winter he gave to a careful revision of his writings. -In the spring of 1890 he was ill for six weeks, and though he recovered -enough to be able to move about a little and to welcome his friends, -serious work was out of the question. He wrote two or three short -papers, and had strong inducements held out to him to write more, but -the time for writing was past, and he knew it. - -His sufferings during his last illness were great, but he bore them -like the man he was. Lowell died at ‘Elmwood,’ Cambridge, on August 12, -1891. - - -II - -LOWELL’S CHARACTER - -‘I am a kind of twins myself, divided between grave and gay,’ -said Lowell, in one of those rare moments when he condescended to -self-analysis. The duality of temperament here pointed at is one secret -of the fascination he exerted on all who were privileged to know him -intimately. The fascination was certainly great and the tributes to -it numerous. Lowell’s personality was so winning, and the man was so -genuine, human, and lovable, that it is difficult to speak of him in -terms having even the semblance of impartiality. Although strong-willed -and positive, not indisposed now and then to indulge himself in -the luxury of stubbornness, he was open-minded, wholly unselfish, -kind-hearted, affectionate, and gentle; and while he had his reserves -he was democratic in all the best senses of the word, for his democracy -sprang from the depths of his nature. Changeable in his moods, he could -be teasing, whimsical, irritating; but when he was most mocking and -perverse he was most delightful. - -There is something very attractive in Lowell’s attitude toward -literature and literary fame. Books were an essential part of his -life. He had mastered that difficult art of _reading_ as few men have -mastered it. He was rarely endowed as a poet and prose-writer. And yet -Lowell, the most complete illustration we have of the literary man, -showed no inclination to magnify the importance of letters. - -As to his individual achievements, he not only never thought of himself -more highly than he ought to think, but was the rather inclined to -place too low an estimate on the value of his work. Self-distrust -increased with years. Nevertheless, Lowell indulged himself in no -philosophy of despair. He had had much to be grateful for. ‘I have -always believed that a man’s fate is born with him, and that he cannot -escape from it nor greatly modify it’ (Lowell once wrote to his friend -Charles Eliot Norton) ‘and that consequently every one gets in the long -run exactly what he deserves, neither more nor less.’ Lowell goes on to -say that the creed is a ‘cheerful’ one; he might have added that it is -no less sensible and manly than it is cheerful. - -Whether he found his creed satisfactory at all times or was always -conscious that he had a creed, we cannot know, but he could be the -blithest of fatalists when it pleased him to be. - - -III - -POET AND PROSE WRITER - -Lowell’s prose is manly, direct, varied, flexible, generally -harmonious, abounding in passages marked by grace, beauty, and -sweetness, and capable of rising to genuine eloquence. In its -overflowing vitality and human warmth it is an adequate expression of -the man, imaging his mocking and humorous moods no less than his deep -sincerity, his strength of purpose, and his passion. Much of it has the -confidence and ease that go with successful improvisation. If Lowell -was ‘willing to risk the prosperity of a verse upon a lucky throw of -words,’ he was even more willing to take like chances with his prose. - -His thought ran easily into figurative form, and the making of metaphor -was as natural to him as breathing. He would even amuse himself with -conceits, for he loved to play with language, to force words into -shapes he might perchance have condemned had he found them in the work -of another. But if style is to be representative, this playfulness, -however annoying to Lowell’s critics, is a virtue. A Lowell chastened -in his English and wholly academic would not be the Lowell we rejoice -in. - -He practised the art of poetry in many forms and always with success. -Of everything he wrote you might say that it had been his study, though -you might refrain from saying that ‘it had been all in all his study.’ -In other words, as we read Lowell the question never arises whether or -not the poet is working in unfamiliar materials, but whether he might -not have given his product a higher finish, the materials and the form -remaining the same. He was no aspirant after flawless beauty. He wrote -spontaneously and was for the time wholly possessed by his theme. But -what he had written he had written; and if never content with the -result he at least compelled himself to be philosophical. He made a few -changes, to be sure, but (as was said of a far greater poet) he would -correct with an afterglow of poetic inspiration, not with a painful -tinkering of the verse. - -It is by tinkering with the verse, however (the ‘higher’ tinkering), -that perfection is attained. And he who wrote with evident ease so many -lovely and felicitous lines could as easily have bettered lines that -are wanting in finish. It was not Lowell’s way. Too much may not be -required of a man who often felt the utmost repugnance to reading his -own writings, once they were in print. - - -IV - -_POEMS_, _THE BIGLOW PAPERS_, _FABLE FOR CRITICS_, _VISION OF SIR -LAUNFAL_ - -Lowell’s first poetic flights were strong-winged. ‘Threnodia,’ ‘The -Sirens,’ ‘Summer Storm,’ ‘To Perdita, Singing,’ whatever their faults, -have a richness, a melody, a freedom of structure, an almost careless -grace, that are captivating. Here was no painful effort in production -with the inevitable result of frigidity and hardness. - -The poet’s gift matured rapidly. There is strength in such poems as -‘Prometheus,’ ‘Columbus,’ ‘A Glance behind the Curtain,’ rare beauty -in ‘A Legend of Brittany,’ ‘Hebe,’ and ‘Rhœcus,’ a mystical power in -the haunting lines of ‘The Sower,’ passion and uplift in ‘The Present -Crisis,’ ‘Anti-Apis,’ the lines ‘To W. L. Garrison,’ and the ‘Ode to -France,’ while in ‘An Interview with Miles Standish’ is a promise of -that satirical power which was presently to find complete expression in -_The Biglow Papers_. - -Early in his career Lowell announced his theory of the poet’s office, -which is to inspire to high thought and noble action, not merely to -please with pretty fancies and melodious verse. The ‘Ode,’ written in -1841, is an expression of his poetic faith. The ethical and reforming -bent in Lowell’s character was so strong as to make it difficult -for him, true bard though he was, to look on poetry as an art to be -cultivated for itself alone. - -Inspiriting as were stanzas like ‘The Present Crisis,’ Lowell’s power -became most effective in the anti-slavery struggle when the outbreak -of the Mexican War led to the writing of _The Biglow Papers_. Printed -anonymously in a journal, copied into other newspapers, the question of -their authorship much debated, these satires were at last adjudicated -to the man who wrote them, but not until he himself had heard it -demonstrated ‘in the pauses of a concert’ that he was wholly incapable -of such a performance. - -Of the characters of the little drama, Hosea Biglow, the country -youth, stands for the plain common-sense of New England, opposed to -the extension of slavery whatever the means employed, and above all -by legalized murder with an accompaniment of drums and fifes. The -Reverend Homer Wilbur acts as ‘chorus,’ and by his learned comments -surrounds the productions of the country muse with an atmosphere of -scholarship. Birdofredom Sawin is the clown of the little show. - -Many finer touches have become obscure by the lapse of time, and _The -Biglow Papers_ is now provided with historical notes; but the energy, -the spirit, and the unfailing humor of the work are perennial. Lowell -was most fortunate in his verbal felicities. Who could have foreseen -that so much danger lurked in a middle initial, or that a plain name -of the sort borne by the former senator from Middlesex contained such -comic potentialities? - - We were gittin’ on nicely up here to our village, - With good old idees o’ wut’s right an’ wut aint, - We kind o’ thought Christ went agin war an’ pillage, - An’ thet eppyletts worn’t the best mark of a saint; - But John P. - Robinson he - Sez this kind o’ thing’s an exploded idee. - -Lowell was surprised at his own success. What he at first thought ‘a -mere fencing stick’ proved to be a weapon. The blade was two-edged, and -the Yankees did well to fall back a little when he lifted it against -the enemy. For in writing _The Biglow Papers_ Lowell took real delight -in noting the oddities and laughing at the foibles of his own New -Englanders, a people whom he loved with all tenderness, but to whose -faults he was not in the least blind. - -In 1861 the little puppets were taken out of the box where they had -lain for fifteen years and furbished up for a new tragi-comedy. The -second series of _The Biglow Papers_ was read no less eagerly than the -first had been. Quite as brilliant as their predecessors, the later -poems are more impassioned, and in those touching on English hostility -to the North the satire is bitterly stinging. - -While the numbers of the first series were in course of publication -Lowell produced a rhymed primer of contemporary American literature -under the title of _A Fable for Critics_. It was an improvisation, -and therefore the buoyancy, the jovial off-hand manner, the impudence -even, were a matter of course and all in its favor. Often penetrating -and just in his criticisms, Lowell was invariably amusing, and in the -cleverness of the rhyme and word play quite inimitable. - -Two months after the appearance of the _Fable_ the popular _Vision -of Sir Launfal_ was published. Though undoubtedly read more for the -sake of the preludes than for the slight but touching story, it is -by no means certain that the preludes, brought out as independent -poems, could have won the number of readers they now have. In other -words, _The Vision of Sir Launfal_ has a unity which it seems on first -acquaintance to lack. - - -V - -_UNDER THE WILLOWS_, _THE CATHEDRAL_, _COMMEMORATION ODE_, _THREE -MEMORIAL POEMS_, _HEARTSEASE AND RUE_ - -‘Under the Willows’ is a poem of Nature in which the poet at no time -loses sight either of the world of books or of the world of men. If he -be driven indoors by the rigors of May, he is content to sit by his -wood-fire and read what the poets have said in praise of that inclement -month. Or if June has come and he can dream under his favorite willows, -his reveries gain a zest from the interruptions of the tramp, ‘lavish -summer’s bedesman,’ the scissors-grinder, that grimy Ulysses of New -England, the school-children, and the road-menders, - - Vexing Macadam’s ghost with pounded slate. - -It is a poem of thanksgiving in which the poet voices his gratitude for -the benediction of the higher mood and the human kindness of the lower. - -The volume to which ‘Under the Willows’ gives its name is typical. He -who prizes Lowell’s verse will hardly be content with any selection -which does not include ‘Al Fresco,’ ‘A Winter-Evening Hymn to my Fire,’ -‘Invita Minerva,’ ‘The Dead House,’ ‘The Parting of the Ways,’ ‘The -Fountain of Youth,’ and ‘The Nightingale in the Study.’ - -Its manner of contrasting To-Day with Yesterday, the genius that -creates with the spirit that analyzes, makes _The Cathedral_ an -essentially American poem. The minster in its ‘vast repose,’ - - Silent and gray as forest-leaguered cliff, - -must always seem a marvel to a dweller among temples of ‘deal and -paint.’ The poem is the meditation of a New-World conservative, -altogether catholic of sympathies, who holds no less firmly to the -past because, under the fascination of democracy, he breathes in the -presence of the ‘backwoods Charlemagne’ a braver air and is conscious -of an ‘ampler manhood.’ And what, he asks, will be the faith of -this new avatar of the Goth, what temples will the creature build? -Very beautiful, very suggestive, and in its shifting moods entirely -representative of the poet who wrote it must this fine work always seem. - -_The Ode recited at the Harvard Commemoration_ (July 21, 1865) is -Lowell’s supreme achievement in verse. It breathes the most exalted -patriotism, a love of native land that is intense, fiery, consuming. -Though written in honor of sons of the University who had gone to the -war, the spirit of the _Ode_ is not local and particular. The poet -celebrates not individual deeds alone but the sum of those deeds, not -man but manhood:-- - - That leap of heart whereby a people rise - Up to a noble anger’s height, - And, flamed on by the Fates, not shrink, but grow more bright, - That swift validity in noble veins, - Of choosing danger and disdaining shame, - Of being set on flame - By the pure fire that flies all contact base, - But wraps its chosen with angelic might, - These are imperishable gains, - Sure as the sun, medicinal as light, - These hold great futures in their lusty reins - And certify to earth a new imperial race. - -The mingling of proud humility, tenderness, and reverence, the -throbbing passion and the exultant fervor of the concluding verses, -lift this ode to a high place in American poetry, it may be to -the highest place. To the many, however, the chief value of _The -Commemoration Ode_ lies in the stanza on Lincoln. So just as an -estimate of character, so restrained in its accents of praise, American -in all finer meanings of the word, splendid in its imagery and poignant -in the note of grief, this beautiful tribute to the great president is -final and satisfying. - -The first of the _Three Memorial Poems_ is an ‘Ode, read at the One -Hundredth Anniversary of the Fight at Concord.’ - -In the opening stanzas on Freedom the poet strikes the notes of -exultation fitting the time and the place, then passes to those -inevitable allusions which appeal to local pride (and Lowell handles -this passage with utmost skill), draws the lesson that must of -necessity be drawn from the ‘home-spun deeds’ of the men of old, makes -Freedom utter her warning to the men of the present, and, no prophet of -evil, closes in the triumphant spirit in which he began. - -‘Under the Old Elm’ is a magnificent tribute to a man so great that -there is need of odes like this to help us comprehend his greatness. -After calling up the scene when Washington, ‘a stranger among -strangers,’ stood beneath that legendary tree to take command of his -army, ‘all of captains,’ a motley rout, valorous deacons, selectmen, -and village heroes among others, more skilled in debating their -orders than obeying them, good fighters all, but ‘serious drill’s -despair,’--the poet chants those beautiful lines in which is drawn the -distinction between ‘Nation’ and ‘Country.’ The one is fashioned of -computable things, good each in its kind and important in its place:-- - - But Country is a shape of each man’s mind - Sacred from definition, unconfined - By the cramped walls where daily drudgeries grind; - An inward vision, yet an outward birth - Of sweet familiar heaven and earth; - A brooding Presence that stirs motions blind - Of wings within our embryo being’s shell - That wait but her completer spell - To make us eagle-natured, fit to dare - Life’s nobler spaces and untarnished air. - - You who hold dear this self-conceived ideal, - Whose faith and works alone can make it real, - Bring all your fairest gifts to deck her shrine - Who lifts our lives away from Thine and Mine - And feeds the lamp of manhood more divine - With fragrant oils of quenchless constancy. - When all have done their utmost, surely he - Hath given the best who gives a character - Erect and constant, which nor any shock - Of loosened elements, nor the forceful sea - Of flowing or of ebbing fates, can stir - From its deep bases in the living rock - Of ancient manhood’s sweet security.... - -And the poet longs for skill to praise him fitly whom he does fitly -praise in the stanzas that follow. It is a thoughtful, nobly eloquent, -and poetically beautiful characterization of the great Virginian, -and appropriately closes with a fine apostrophe to the historic -Commonwealth from which Washington sprang. - -The ‘Ode for the Fourth of July, 1876,’ though not lacking in forceful -lines and fine imagery, is the least happy of the three poems. -The questioning and critical mood is prominent. But the spirit of -confidence prevails and is voiced in the invocation with which the ode -concludes. - -Various notes are touched in the collection of eighty-eight poems to -which its author gave the title of _Heartsease and Rue_. Here are -verses new and old, grave and gay, satirical, humorous, sentimental, -and elegiac, epigrams, inscriptions, lyrics, poems of occasion, -sonnets, epistles, and, chief among them, the ode written on hearing -the news of the death of Agassiz. Whether, as has been asserted, ‘this -poem takes its place with the few great elegies in our language, gives -a hand to “Lycidas” and to “Thyrsis,”’ is a question to be decided -by the suffrages of many good critics, rather than by the dictum of -one. There is no doubt, however, that by virtue of its human quality, -depth of personal feeling, sincerity in the accent of bereavement, and -felicity of phrase, the ‘Agassiz’ will always stand in the first rank -of Lowell’s greater verse. - - -VI - -_FIRESIDE TRAVELS_, _MY STUDY WINDOWS_, _AMONG MY BOOKS_, _LATEST -LITERARY ESSAYS_ - -_Fireside Travels_ is so entertaining a book as to make one wish that -Lowell had chronicled more of his journeyings at home and abroad in -the same amusing style. Two of the six essays--‘Cambridge Thirty Years -Ago’ and ‘A Moosehead Journal’--take the form of letters addressed to -the author’s friend, ‘the Edelmann Storg’ (W. W. Story). The others are -grouped under the general title of ‘Leaves from my Journal in Italy and -Elsewhere.’ - -One spirit animates the pages of this book,--a love of plain people, -homely adventures, everyday sights and sounds. In a half-serious way -(as if to show that he knows how to ‘do’ a tempest in the mountains -or an illumination of St. Peter’s) Lowell throws in a number of -unconventional passages on entirely conventional themes. But the -strength of the book lies in the sympathetic and humorous accounts of -that protean animal Man, who, whether he showed himself in the guise -of a denizen of Old Cambridge, or of Uncle Zeb, who had been ‘to -the ‘Roostick war,’ or of the Chief Mate of the packet ship, or of -Leopoldo, the Italian guide, was more interesting to Lowell than any -other object of his study. - -Together with _Fireside Travels_ may be read ‘My Garden Acquaintance’ -and ‘A Good Word for Winter,’ from _My Study Windows_, gossipy -papers on Nature by one who looked on ‘a great deal of the modern -sentimentalism about Nature as a mark of disease ... one more symptom -of the general liver complaint.’ The sincerity of Lowell’s love of -birds, beasts, flowers, trees, the sky and the landscape, admits of no -question. Yet he approached Nature more or less through literature, as -was becoming in a man brought up on White’s _Selborne_; and he seems -his characteristic self when, having pulled a chair out under a tree, -he sits there with a volume of Chaucer in his hands, looking up from -the page now and then to watch his feathered neighbors, and make wise -and humorous comments on their doings. - -_Among My Books_ is a volume of literary and historical studies, six -in number, entitled respectively, ‘Dryden,’ ‘Witchcraft,’ ‘Shakespeare -Once More,’ ‘New England Two Centuries Ago,’ ‘Lessing,’ ‘Rousseau and -the Sentimentalists.’ All are in Lowell’s best manner, and the ‘Dryden’ -and ‘Shakespeare’ are particularly fine examples of those leisurely, -stimulating, and always brilliant literary studies which this scholar -knew so well how to write. - -Of the thirteen papers in _My Study Windows_ that on ‘Abraham -Lincoln’[67] and the one ‘On a Certain Condescension in Foreigners’ -have a political bearing; those on ‘A Great Public Character’ (Josiah -Quincy) and ‘Emerson the Lecturer’ are studies in personality; the -‘Library of Old Authors’ is an exercise in textual criticism, a -merciless arraignment of certain unfortunate editors; the ‘Carlyle,’ -‘James Gates Percival,’ ‘Thoreau,’ ‘Swinburne’s Tragedies,’ ‘Chaucer,’ -and ‘Pope’ are studies in literary history and interpretation. - -_Among My Books_, ‘second series,’ contains five essays. More than -a third of the volume is devoted to a study of ‘Dante,’ elaborate -and exhaustive--as the word ‘exhaustive’ might be used in speaking -of an essay not of a book. Then follows a most sympathetic essay on -‘Spenser,’ together with papers on ‘Milton,’ ‘Wordsworth,’ and ‘Keats.’ - -Of Lowell’s critical writings as a whole it may be said that better -reading does not exist; and among the virtues of these essays is their -length. Lowell would have been ill at ease in the limits of three or -four thousand words too often imposed by the editors of our current -magazines. He might even have been scornful of a public taste which -dictated to editors to dictate to their contributors limits so narrow. -Writing from the fulness of a well-stored mind, he liked room in which -to display his thought. Having much to say, he did not scruple to -take time to say it; but the time always goes quickly. He understood -perfectly the art of beguiling one into forgetting the hours as they -pass. - -These essays, so rich in critical suggestiveness, abound in -matter-of-fact knowledge. We read for information and get it. Lowell -shares with us the wealth of his acquaintance with books. His manner -is unostentatious. Macaulay staggers us with his array of facts and -his range of allusion. We are overwhelmed, intellectually cowed by the -display of knowledge. Lowell too astonishes, but only after a while. -Macaulay declaims at his reader, Lowell converses with him. All is so -easy, good-humored, and witty, that the reader for a moment labors -under the mistake of supposing that he is being instructed less than -he would like. Later he begins to count up his mental gains, and is -surprised at the display they make. - -Another obvious source of pleasure is the felicity of expression. -Lowell had the courage of his cleverness. Brilliancy was natural to -him. He defended the practice of piquant phrasing, maintaining that a -thought is not wanting in depth because it is strikingly put. Doubtless -he loved an ingenious turn for its own sake, but it would be difficult -to find an instance of his making a display of verbal vivacity to -conceal poverty of thought. - -These pages bear constant witness to Lowell’s passion for books, a -passion too genuine and deep-seated to admit of any doubt on his part -of the worth of literature. He had none of Emerson’s scepticism, who -held that if people would only think, they might do without books. -The dullest proser and most leaden-winged poet could not make Lowell -despair. - -A number of essays display no little of the severity which we have -learned to associate with reviewing after the manner of Jeffrey and -Lockhart. Yet these caustic passages were written by a man who said of -himself that he had ‘to fight the temptation to be too good-natured.’ -Priggishness was as absurd to him in scholarship and letters as -elsewhere, and he never lost a chance to give it a touch of the whip. -Happily there is little of this. Lowell was almost uniformly urbane, -gracious, reasonable. - -If his subject was a great one Lowell treated it in a great way; if -circumscribed and provincial he enlarged its boundaries--as in the -essay on ‘James Gates Percival,’ where a subject of small intrinsic -worth becomes a study of the American literary mind at one of its -periods of acute self-consciousness, useful historically and tending to -present-day edification. Needless to say, Lowell enjoyed handling this -topic. He liked to satirize the early American authors and critics, -solemn and important over their great work of inaugurating a New-World -literature and quite convinced that, since ‘that little driblet of the -Avon had succeeded in producing William Shakespeare,’ something unusual -was to be expected of the Mississippi River. - -Although Lowell’s standing as a critic rests on such writings as his -‘Dryden,’ ‘Shakespeare,’ ‘Chaucer,’ ‘Spenser,’ ‘Pope,’ and ‘Dante,’ the -amateur of good literature cannot afford to neglect anything to which -this fine scholar put his hand. - -The later volumes contain some of his most illuminating criticism -(notably in the ‘Fielding,’ ‘Don Quixote,’ ‘Gray,’ ‘Walton,’ and -‘Landor’), and his style seems the perfection of ease and suppleness. -Doubtless it is negligent now and then, but always with the winning -negligence of a master in the difficult art of expression. - - -VII - -_POLITICAL ADDRESSES AND PAPERS_ - -_The Anti-Slavery Papers_ consists of editorial articles reprinted -from ‘The Pennsylvania Freeman,’ and ‘The Anti-Slavery Standard.’[68] -Witty, ironical, and pungent, these fugitive leaves are of value for -the light they throw on the history of the struggle maintained by the -Abolitionists against their powerful enemies both in the North and in -the South, as well as for the idea they give of the militant Lowell at -a time when to conviction of the justness of the cause for which he -fought was added a measure of joyousness in the mere act of fighting. - -Of greater significance is the volume of _Political Essays_, twelve -papers written at intervals between 1858 and 1866. Designed for the -most part to serve an immediate purpose, and betraying in every page -the writer’s depth of feeling, intensity of patriotism, and strong but -not bigoted Northern convictions, these essays, by their acuteness of -insight, balanced judgment, admirable temper, and wealth of allusion, -as well as by their literary flavor and their occasional eloquence, -hold a permanent place not only among Lowell’s best writings but among -the best of the innumerable political papers called out by the Civil -War. - -Of Lowell’s later political utterances none is more notable than the -address on ‘Democracy,’ delivered at Birmingham in 1884, a cleverly -phrased and thoughtful speech in which the American minister defended -the democratic idea with logic as adroit as it was sound. That the -source of American democracy was the English constitution must have -been news to a part at least of his English audience. It was a happy -thought of Lowell’s to show how stable democracy might be as a system -of government. He made the argument from expediency, that ‘it is -cheaper in the long run to lift men up than to hold them down, and -that a ballot in their hands is less dangerous to society than a sense -of wrong in their heads.’ He would not have been Lowell had he not -also shown that a democracy has its finer instincts, or failed to -recognize the fact that as an experiment in the art of government it -must stand or fall by its own merits. And the whole address is strongly -optimistic, in its insistence that ‘those who have the divine right to -govern will be found to govern in the end.’ - -The address on ‘The Place of the Independent in Politics’ supplements -the Birmingham address. As Lowell before an English audience had dwelt -on ‘the good points and favorable aspect of democracy,’ so before a -home audience he discussed its weak points and its dangers. He thought -the system would bear investigation. At no time did he labor under the -mistake of supposing that democracy was a contrivance which ran of its -own accord. Parties there must be and politicians to look after them, -but it is no less essential that there should be somebody to look after -the politicians. The address is a plea for unselfishness in political -action. - - * * * * * - -Admirers of Lowell find it easy to believe that of all American -makers of verse he had the most of what is called inspiration. With -less catholic tastes he might have become a greater poet and would -undoubtedly have been a finer artist. But granting that it was a -matter of choice, and that Lowell had elected to make mastery in -verse (with all the sacrifices involved) the object of his life, how -serious then would have been the loss to criticism and to politics. The -Lowell we know, with his extraordinary mental vivacity, his grasp of a -multitude of interests that make for culture, is surely a more engaging -figure than the hypothetical Lowell of purely poetical achievement. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [63] Keith Spence was born at Kirkwall, Orkney. Mrs. Lowell had - Orcadian ancestors on both sides of the house, her maternal - grandfather, Robert Traill, having also come from Orkney. - - [64] January, February, and March, 1843. - - [65] Scudder. - - [66] H. R. Haweis: _American Humorists_. - - [67] The remarkable paper on Lincoln was afterwards transferred to - the volume of _Political Essays_. - - [68] January, 1845, to November, 1850. - - - - -XIX - -_WALT WHITMAN_ - - -REFERENCES: - - =John Burroughs=: _Notes on Walt Whitman as Poet and Person_, - second edition, 1871. - - =R. M. Bucke=: _Walt Whitman_, 1883. - - =W. S. Kennedy=: _Reminiscences of Walt Whitman_, 1896. - - =I. H. Platt=: _Walt Whitman_, ‘Beacon Biographies,’ 1904. - - -I - -HIS LIFE - -Walter Whitman (commonly known as Walt) was born at West Hills, a -village in Huntington Township, Long Island, on May 31, 1819. He was -a son of Walter Whitman, a carpenter and house-builder, who followed -his trade chiefly in New York and Brooklyn. The Long Island Whitmans -claim descent from the Reverend Zechariah Whitman, who came to America -in 1635, and settled at Milford, Connecticut. Zechariah’s son Joseph -crossed the Sound ‘sometime before 1660,’ and may have been the -original purchaser of the farm where successive generations of his -descendants lived, and where the poet was born. - -Blended with this English blood was that of a line of Dutch ancestors. -Whitman’s mother, Louisa Van Velsor, daughter of Cornelius Van Velsor -of Cold Spring Harbor, was of ‘the old race of the Netherlands, so -deeply grafted on Manhattan Island and in Kings and Queens counties.’ -The Van Velsors were noted for their horses, and in her youth Louisa -was a daring rider. - -Whitman’s education was such as a Brooklyn public school of the early -Thirties afforded. After a little experience as an office-boy he -learned to set type. To vary the monotony of life at the composing-case -he taught in country schools or worked at farming. Occasionally he -dabbled in literature, publishing tales and essays in the ‘Democratic -Review.’ In 1839 he started at Huntington a ‘weekly’ paper, the ‘Long -Islander,’ publishing it at such intervals as pleased him best. For a -time he edited the ‘Brooklyn Eagle’ (1848), diverting himself in the -intervals of journalistic work with ‘an occasional shy at “poetry.”’ - -Nomadic by instinct and of a curious and inquiring turn of mind, -Whitman, accompanied by his brother Jeff, made ‘a leisurely journey -and working expedition’ through the Middle States, down the Ohio and -Mississippi to New Orleans, returning in the same deliberate manner -by the Great Lakes, Lower Canada, and the Hudson. During his stay in -New Orleans (1849–50) he was an editorial writer on the’ Crescent.’ -In Brooklyn (1850–51) he edited and published a paper called ‘The -Freeman,’ then for three or four years he built and sold small houses. - -The first edition of the extraordinary and notorious _Leaves of Grass_ -(for which Whitman himself helped to set the type) appeared in 1855, -and was described by Emerson to Carlyle as ‘a nondescript monster, -which yet had terrible eyes and buffalo strength, and was indisputably -American.’ An enlarged edition appeared in 1856, to be followed by yet -a third in 1860. The sales were slow and the reviews for the most part -hostile and often abusive. - -There was some discussion in the Whitman family over the merits of -the book. The poet’s brother, George Whitman, said in after years: ‘I -remember mother comparing Hiawatha to Walt’s, and the one seemed to us -pretty much the same muddle as the other. Mother said if Hiawatha was -poetry, perhaps Walt’s was.’[69] - -In 1862 George Whitman was wounded at the first battle of -Fredericksburg. Walt went immediately to the front to care for him. -His sympathies were enlisted by the sight of the misery on every hand -and he became a volunteer army nurse, serving for three years in the -hospitals in Washington. ‘He saved many lives’ was the testimony of a -surgeon who had observed Whitman at his work. But his powerful physique -broke under the strain, and a severe illness followed. - -When he recovered, a clerkship was given him in the Department of the -Interior; he was presently removed on the charge (it is said) of having -written an indecent book.[70] A place was immediately found for him -in the Attorney General’s office, and this place he held until he was -stricken by partial paralysis early in 1873. - -From 1873 until his death Whitman lived in Camden, New Jersey, at first -making his home with his soldier brother, George, later setting up an -establishment of his own at 328 Mickle Street. He never married, having -an ‘overmastering passion for entire freedom, unconstraint; I had an -instinct against forming ties that would bind me.’ - -The following list of Whitman’s writings conveys no idea of the -interest attaching to them as bibliographical curiosities, but will -perhaps answer the needs of the student. - -_Leaves of Grass_, 1855 (second edition, 1856; third, 1860–61; fourth, -1867; fifth, 1871); _Walt Whitman’s Drum-Taps_ and its _Sequel_, -1865–66; _Democratic Vistas_, 1871; _After All not to Create Only_, -1871; _Passage to India_, 1871; _As a Strong Bird on Pinions Free_, -1872; _Memoranda during the War_, 1875–76; _Two Rivulets_ (prose and -verse), 1876; _Specimen Days and Collect_, 1882–83; _November Boughs_ -(prose and verse), 1888; _Good-Bye My Fancy_, 1891; _Calamus: A Series -of Letters ... to a young friend (Peter Doyle)_, 1897; _The Wound -Dresser_, 1898. - -The storm of opposition which greeted Whitman’s earlier work gradually -subsided, and he became a notable figure among contemporary men of -letters. He was invited to read original poems on public occasions, -such as the opening of the American Institute (1871), the Commencement -at Dartmouth College (1872), and the Commencement at Tufts College -(1874). In later years he enjoyed literary canonization in a small -way. Many pilgrims visited the bard in his unpoetical house in Camden. -Worshippers came from England to pay him homage and incidentally to -rail at Americans for neglecting one of their few geniuses, stolidly -ignoring the fact that they themselves had neglected not a few of their -many geniuses. And before Walt Whitman died (March 26, 1892) he had -tasted some of the delights of fame. - - -II - -THE GROWTH OF A REPUTATION - -Being prejudiced in favor of metre and rhyme, probably from long -experience of verse written in the conservative way, an old-fashioned -world did not welcome _Leaves of Grass_ with enthusiasm. A few -discerning spirits saw in Whitman the promise of mighty things. Emerson -greeted him ‘at the beginning of a great career;’ but when the poet had -these words from a private letter stamped in gilt capitals on the cover -of his next volume, Emerson (it is thought) was a little dismayed. - -Not only did the form of the poems offend, but the content as well. -There were lines calculated to disconcert even such people as were -not, in their own opinion, prudish. The lines were comparatively few -in number, but they were there in unabashed nakedness, and _Leaves of -Grass_, it may be assumed, often went on a top shelf instead of on -the sitting-room table along with innocuous poets like Tennyson and -Longfellow. - -Neglect and abuse raised up for Whitman in time a small battalion of -champions, fierce, determined, uncompromising, militant. Among them -were men whose attitude towards literature was catholic and liberal. -For the most part they were Whitmanites, hot as lovers, quarrelsome as -bullies, biting their thumbs at every passer-by. - -Literary championship has one good effect: it keeps the public, gorged -with novels of the day, from quite going to sleep. There is always -a chance that some open-minded reader will be stirred by the clash -of critical arms to look into the affair that is causing so great a -pother. Better to be advertised by the crowd of swashbucklers who -clattered about wearing Whitman’s colors than not to be advertised at -all. The public concluded that a man who could inspire loyalty like -this must be worth while. Whitman’s audience and influence grew. The -bodyguard pretty much lost the power to see virtue in any poet save its -own, but it had succeeded in arresting public attention. - -In 1876 a number of English admirers subscribed freely to the new -edition of Whitman’s writings and garnished their guineas with -comfortable words. The poet was sick, poor, discouraged, and by his own -grateful testimony this show of interest put new heart into him--‘saved -my life,’ he said. It might well have had that effect, since no less -names than those of Tennyson, Ruskin, Rossetti, and Lord Houghton -were to be found in the list of subscribers. Even Robert Buchanan, -who assailed with virulence the author of ‘Jenny,’ had no scruple in -bidding God speed to the author of the ‘Song of Myself’ and ‘Children -of Adam.’ - -A momentary set-back occurred in 1882, when Whitman’s Boston publisher -was threatened with prosecution. ‘The official mind’ declared that it -would be content if two poems were suppressed, the poems in question -resembling in some particulars the stories an English editor omitted -from the _Thousand-and-One Nights_, on the ground that they were -‘interesting only to Arabs and old gentlemen.’ Whitman refused to omit -so much as a word, and the book was transferred to a Philadelphia -publishing house. - -After 1882 Whitman found himself able to publish freely and without -the fear of the district attorney before his eyes. Since his death he -has been accorded a niche in the American literary pantheon, if we may -believe the critics, who now treat his work with the confidence which -marks their attitude towards Lowell or Longfellow. - - -III - -THE WRITER - -Unless indeed, as some maintain, Whitman got the suggestion of a -rhapsodical form from the once famous _Poems of Ossian_, he may be -said to have invented his own ‘verse.’ These unrhymed and unmetred -chants give a pleasure the degree of which is largely determined by the -reader’s willingness to allow Whitman to speak in his own manner and -wholly without reference to time-honored modes of poetic expression. -Such receptivity of mind is indispensable. - -Whitman called his rhapsodies ‘poems,’ ‘chants,’ or ‘songs’ -indifferently; the last term was a favorite with him, in later -editions; he has a ‘Song of the Open Road,’ a ‘Song of the Broad-Axe,’ -a ‘Song for Occupations,’ a ‘Song of the Rolling Earth,’ a ‘Song of -Myself,’ a ‘Song of the Exposition,’ a ‘Song of the Redwood-Tree,’ -‘Songs of Parting,’ and yet more songs. Obviously he used the word -without reference to the traditional meaning. Says Whitman: ‘... it is -not on _Leaves of Grass_ distinctively as _literature_, or a specimen -thereof, that I feel to dwell, or advance claims. No one will get at -my verses who insists upon viewing them as a literary performance, -or attempt at such performance, or as aiming mainly toward art or -æstheticism.’ Holding as he did that so long as ‘the States’ were -dominated by the poetic ideals of the Old World they would stop short -of first-class nationality, his own practice necessarily involved -getting rid, first of all, of the forms in which poetry had hitherto -found expression. - -That the structure of Whitman’s rhapsodies is determined by some law -cannot be questioned. After one has read these pieces many times, -he will find himself instinctively expecting a certain cadence. The -change of a word spoils it, the introduction of a rhyme is intolerable. -They who are versed in Whitman’s style can probably detect at once -a variation from his best manner. That his peculiarities in the -arrangement of words are very subtile is plain from a glance at the -numerous and generally unsuccessful parodies of _Leaves of Grass_. -The parodists have not grasped Whitman’s secret. Merely to write in -irregular lines and begin each line with a capital is to represent only -the obvious and superficial side. Whitman is inimitable even in his -catalogues. The ninth stanza of ‘I Sing the Body Electric’ reads like -an extract from a papal anathema, but it has the Whitmanesque quality; -no one can reproduce it. The imitations of Whitman are always amusing -and often ingenious, but they are not, like Lewis Carroll’s ‘Three -Voices,’ true parodies. - -Whitman probably did not know every step of the process by which he -attained his results. He was a poet who created his own laws and had no -philosophy of poetic form to expound. - - -IV - -_LEAVES OF GRASS_ - -A first impression of _Leaves of Grass_ is of uncouthness and blatancy, -together with something yet more objectionable. The writer would seem -to be a man fond of shocking what are called the proprieties, so frank -and egregious is his animalism, so overpowering his self-assertiveness. - -The author of _Laus Veneris_ accuses Whitman of indecency. The charge -is a grave one and emanates from a high source. The distinguished -English poet admits that there are few subjects which ‘may not be -treated with success;’ but the treatment is everything. This is ‘a -radical and fundamental truth of criticism.’ Whitman’s indecency then -consists not so much in the choice of the subject as in the awkwardness -of the touch. Or as Swinburne puts it with characteristic emphasis: -‘Under the dirty paws of a harper whose plectrum is a muck-rake any -tune will become a chaos of discords, though the motive of the tune -should be the first principle of nature--the passion of man for woman -or the passion of woman for man.’ - -But along with that first impression of Whitman’s verse as the product -of a strong, coarse nature, wilfully brutal at times, comes the no less -marked impression that the man is serenely honest, and animated by a -benevolence which helps to relieve the brutality of its most repulsive -features. At all events, Whitman is what Carlyle might have described -as ‘one of the palpablest of Facts in this miserable world where so -much is Invertebrate and Phantasmal.’ Whether we like him or not, -Whitman is by no means one of those neutral literary persons who are in -danger of being overlooked. - -In fact, the word ‘literary’ as applied to the author of _Leaves of -Grass_ is singularly inept. Whitman is not literary, that is to say he -is not a product of libraries. No meek and reverent follower of poets -gone before is this. ‘He has no literary ancestor, he is an ancestor -himself’--or at least takes the attitude of one. He is a son of earth, -a genuine autochthon, naked and not ashamed, noisy, vociferous, naïvely -delighted with the music of his own raucous voice. - -In that first great rhapsody, ‘Poem of Walt Whitman, an American,’[71] -we have the most characteristic expression of his genius. He proclaims -his interest in all that concerns mankind--not a cold, objective -interest merely, he is himself a part of the mighty pageant of life, -sympathetic with every phase of joy and sorrow, identifying himself -with high and low, finding nothing mean or contemptible. He states the -idea with a hundred variations, returns upon it, sets it in new lights, -enforces it. Every phenomenon of human life teaches this lesson. Every -pleasure, every grief, every experience small or great concerns him. He -identifies himself with the life of the most miserable of creatures:-- - - I am possess’d! - Embody all presences outlaw’d or suffering, - See myself in prison shaped like another man, - And feel the dull unintermitted pain. - -He carries the process of identification too far at times, leading to -results that would be disgusting were they not laughably grotesque. -Whitman makes no reservations on the score of taste. - -This doctrine of the unity of being and experience is comprehensive, -not limited to human life; the brute and insentient existences are -included as well. For a statement of Whitman’s creed take the poem -beginning: ‘There was a child went forth.’ If a busy man were ambitious -to know something about Whitman’s poetry and had only a minimum of time -to give to the subject (like Franklin when he undertook to post up on -revealed religion), one would not hesitate to commend to his notice -this poem as one of the first to be read. The theme is contained in -the four introductory lines. All that follows is an amplification of a -single thought:-- - - There was a child went forth every day, - And the first object he look’d upon, that object he became, - And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain - part of the day, - Or for many years or stretching cycles of years. - -Every object grows incorporate with the child, an essential inseparable -part of him,--the early lilacs, the noisy brood of the barnyard, -people, home, the family usages, doubts even (doubts ‘whether that -which appears is so, or is it all flashes and specks?’), the streets, -the shops, the crowd surging along, shadows and mist, and boats and -waves, - - The strata of color’d clouds, the long bar of maroon-tint away - solitary by itself, the spread of purity it lies motionless in, - The horizon’s edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance of salt marsh - and shore mud, - These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who - now goes, and will always go forth every day. - -The idea has another setting in ‘Salut au Monde,’ Walt Whitman’s -brotherly wave of the hand to the whole world. It is a vision of -kingdoms and nations, comprehensive, detailed; it is geography and the -catalogue raised to the dignity of eloquence. Latitude and longitude -and the hot equator ‘banding the bulge of the earth’ acquire new -meaning in this strange chant. The poet hears the myriad sound of the -life of all peoples:-- - - I hear the Arab muezzin calling from the top of the mosque, - I hear the Christian priests at the altars of their churches, I hear - the responsive bass and soprano, - - * * * * * - - I hear the Hebrew reading his records and psalms, - I hear the rhythmic myths of the Greeks, and the strong legends - of the Romans, - I hear the tale of the divine life and the bloody death of the - beautiful God the Christ, - I hear the Hindoo teaching his favorite pupil the loves, wars, - adages, transmitted safely to this day from poets who wrote - three thousand years ago. - -The mountains, the rivers, the stormy seas, the pageant of fallen -empires and ancient religions, of cities and plains, all sweep past in -this survey of the world. And to all, salutation:-- - - My spirit has pass’d in compassion and determination around the - whole earth, - I have look’d for equals and lovers and found them ready for me - in all lands, - I think some divine rapport has equalized me with them. - -The ‘Song of the Open Road,’ which may very well be read next, is a -challenge to a larger life than that which conventions, and modes, and -common social habits will permit:-- - - From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines, - Going where I list, my own master total and absolute, - Listening to others, considering well what they say, - Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, - Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that - would hold me. - -It is no journey of ease to which the poet invites his followers; he -offers none of the ‘old smooth prizes:’-- - - My call is the call of battle, I nourish active rebellion, - He going with me must go well arm’d, - He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry - enemies, desertion. - -Notable among Whitman’s best poems, and most important to an -understanding of him, is the ‘Song of the Answerer,’ that is to say, of -the Poet. He it is who puts things in their right relations:-- - - Every existence has its idiom, every thing has an idiom and a tongue, - He resolves all tongues into his own and bestows it upon men. - -The Answerer is quite other than the Singer--he is more powerful, his -existence is more significant, his words are of weight and insight:-- - - The words of the singers are the hours or minutes of the light or - dark, but the words of the maker of poems are the general - light and dark, - The maker of poems settles justice, reality, immortality, - His insight and power encircle things and the human race, - He is the glory and extract thus far of things and of the human race. - -In that fine rhapsody ‘By Blue Ontario’s Shore’ Whitman restates his -doctrine while applying it to the need of his own America:-- - - Rhymes and rhymers pass away, poems distill’d from poems pass away, - The swarms of reflectors and the polite pass, and leave ashes, - Admirers, importers, obedient persons, make but the soil - of literature, - America justifies itself, give it time, no disguise can deceive it - or conceal from it, it is impassive enough, - Only toward the likes of itself will it advance to meet them, - If its poets appear it will in due time advance to meet them, there - is no fear of mistake, - (The proof of a poet shall be sternly deferr’d till his country - absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorb’d it.) - -‘By Blue Ontario’s Shore,’ from which these lines are taken, is a chant -for America. Patriotism is Whitman’s darling theme. Love of native -land, confidence in democracy, the self-sufficiency of the Republic and -the certainty of its future--with these ideas and with this spirit his -verse is charged to the full:-- - - A breed whose proof is in time and deeds, - What we are we are, nativity is answer enough to objections, - We wield ourselves as a weapon is wielded, - We are powerful and tremendous in ourselves, - We are executive in ourselves, we are sufficient in the variety - of ourselves, - We are the most beautiful to ourselves and in ourselves, - We stand self-pois’d in the middle, branching thence over the world, - From Missouri, Nebraska, or Kansas, laughing attacks to scorn. - -America is safe, thought Whitman, so long as she does her own work in -her own way and cultivates a wholesome fear of civilization. - - America, curious toward foreign characters, stands by its own at - all hazards, - Stands removed, spacious, composite, sound, initiates the true use - of precedents, - Does not repel them or the past or what they have produced under - their forms, - - * * * * * - - These States are the amplest poem, - Here is not merely a nation but a teeming Nation of nations, - Here the doings of men correspond with the broadcast doings of the - day and night, - Here is what moves in magnificent masses careless of particulars, - Here are the roughs, beards, friendliness, combativeness, - the soul loves, - Here the flowing trains, here the crowds, equality, diversity, - the soul loves. - -One of the most magnificent of Whitman’s patriotic chants is that known -by its opening line, ‘As a Strong Bird on Pinions Free.’ He would be a -hardened sceptic who, after reading these superb and uplifting verses, -found himself still unconverted to some portion of the gospel of poetry -as preached by Walt Whitman. There is no resisting the man here, or -when he shows his power in pieces like ‘Proud Music of the Storm,’ -‘Passage to India,’ ‘The Mystic Trumpeter,’ ‘With Husky-Haughty -Lips, O Sea!’ ‘To the Man-of-War-Bird,’ ‘Song of the Universal,’ and -‘Chanting the Square Deific.’ - -Admirable, even wonderful, as these verses are, it may be after all -that the little volume called _Drum-Taps_ (together with its _Sequel_) -is Whitman’s best gift to the literature of his country. Vivid pictures -of battle-field, camp, and hospital, they are not to be forgotten by -him who has once looked on them. The ‘Prelude,’ ‘Cavalry Crossing a -Ford,’ ‘By the Bivouac’s Fitful Flame,’ ‘The Dresser,’ the impressive -‘Vigil strange I kept on the field one night,’ and the no less striking -‘A march in the ranks hard-prest, and the road unknown,’ together with -‘As toilsome I wander’d Virginia’s woods,’ the ‘Hymn of Dead Soldiers,’ -and ‘Spirit whose Work is Done,’--these and many more have accomplished -for Whitman’s reputation what the ‘Song of Myself’ and kindred poems -could not. - -In _Drum-Taps_ appeared the tributes to Lincoln, ‘O Captain, my -Captain,’ and the great lament beginning ‘When lilacs last in the -dooryard bloom’d.’ Here the poet rises to his supreme height. For -pathos and tenderness, for beauty of phrase, nobility of thought, and -a grand yet simple manner this threnody is indeed worthy of the praise -bestowed on it by those critics whose praise is most to be desired.[72] - - -V - -_SPECIMEN DAYS AND COLLECT_ - -Whitman’s prose in the definitive edition makes a stout volume of more -than five hundred closely printed pages. The title, _Specimen Days and -Collect_, gives an imperfect hint of the contents. Here are extracts -from journals kept through twenty years. Many bear a resemblance to -Hugo’s _Choses Vues_. Largely autobiographical and reminiscent, they -are vivid, picturesque, and far better in their haphazard way than a -good deal of formal ‘literature.’ Here are reprints of prefaces to the -several editions of _Leaves of Grass_, together with papers on Burns, -Tennyson, and Shakespeare, a lecture on Lincoln, a paper on American -national literature, and yet more ‘diary-notes’ and ‘splinters.’ He -who loves to browse in a book will find the volume of Whitman’s prose -made to his hand. The prose is of high importance to an understanding -of what, oddly enough, his poetry imperfectly reveals--Whitman’s -character. To know the man as he really was we must read _Specimen Days -and Collect_. - - -VI - -WHITMAN’S CHARACTER - -There is a certain uncanny quality in parts of Whitman’s verse. The -reiteration of particular phrases and words awakens an uncomfortable -feeling, a suspicion of not-to-be-named queernesses, to use no plainer -term. The constant translation of conceptions of ideal love into -fleshly symbols moves the reader to irreverence if not to disgust. -Whitman’s favorite image of bearded ‘comrades’ who kiss when they meet, -and who take long walks with their arms around each other’s necks, may -be ‘nonchalant’ but it is not agreeable. Somehow it does not seem as -if the doctrine of the brotherhood of man gained many supporters by so -singular a method of propagandism. - -When from time to time Whitman talked with Peter Doyle about his books, -Doyle would say: ‘I don’t know what you are trying to get at.’[73] It -is an ironical comment on the great preacher of the needs and virtues -of the average man that his poetry should have been handed over to -the keeping of those whose jaded taste makes them hanker after the -bizarre, after anything that breeds discussion, anything demanding -interpretation and defence. - -Yet no one doubts the sincerity of these faithful followers. -Whitmanites really like Whitman albeit they protest too much. It -is difficult to read him and not like him. Unfortunately the many -find it impossible to read him. Whitman prepares his feast, throws -open his doors, and bids all enter who will. A few come and by their -shrill volubility make it seem as if the dining-room were crowded. The -majority do not trouble to cross the threshold. They have heard that -the host serves queer dishes; it has even been reported that he is a -cannibal. - -This, or something very like it, has been Whitman’s fate. A taste for -his work must be acquired. He is the idol of cliques and societies, and -a meaningless name to the great people whom he loved, whose virtues he -chanted with confident fervor, and in whom he trusted unreservedly. - -Poetry so egoistic might be supposed to reveal the man. Strangely -enough, Whitman’s poetry, despite the heavy and continued accentuation -of the personal note, gives but a partial, a quite imperfect view of -the man himself. Whitman tells us so emphatically what he _thinks_ that -we are at a loss to know what he himself _is_. The great Shakespeare, -according to popular opinion, is veiled from us through his -extraordinary impersonality. Whitman accomplishes a not dissimilar end -by diametrically opposite means; he hides himself by over obtrusion of -the personal element. The case is not so common as to be undeserving -of study. As a method it has many drawbacks. - -Whitman has suffered at his own hands. The egoistic manner, -indispensable to his theory and not to be taken with literalness, is -nevertheless a stumbling-block. Instruct themselves how they will that -in saying ‘I’ the poet also means ‘You,’ that whatever Walt Whitman -claims for himself he also claims for every one else, readers somehow -lose hold of the thought and are amazed and angered by the poet’s -monstrous vanity. - -To this feeling the prose writings are an antidote. We learn in a few -pages how simple-minded, patient, and lovable this man really was; -how reverent of genius, how free from envy, undisturbed by suffering, -ill-repute, and delayed hopes. There was something at once pathetic -and noble in his patience, in his magnificent repose and stability. -The impersonal character of the tree and the rock, which he admired -so much, became in a measure his. He bided his time. The success of -other poets awakened no jealousy. He never called names, never picked -flaws in the work of his brother bards. The better we know him the more -dignified and lofty his figure becomes. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [69] ‘Conversations with George W. Whitman,’ _In Re Walt Whitman_, - p. 36. - - [70] ‘... It is therefore deemed needful only to say in relation - to his [Whitman’s] removal, that his Chief--Hon. Wm. P. - Dole, Commissioner of Indian affairs, who was officially - answerable to me for the work in his Bureau, recommended - it, _on the ground that his services were not needed_. And - no other reason was ever assigned by my authority.’ Extract - from a letter from James Harlan to Dewitt Miller, dated Mt. - Pleasant, Iowa, July 18, 1894. - - [71] So called in the edition of 1856. In the edition of 1897 it - is entitled ‘Song of Myself.’ - - [72] See, for example, Stedman’s tribute in _Poets of America_. - - [73] _Calamus_, p. 27. - - - - -_Index_ - - - _Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey_, 9, 27. - - Abolitionists, 260. - - _Afloat and Ashore_, 71, 88. - - _Aftermath_, 226, 245. - - ‘Ages, The,’ Bryant’s Phi Beta Kappa poem, 38. - - Agnew, Mary, 406. - - _Alhambra, The_, 9, 24. - - Allan, Mr. and Mrs. John, befriend Poe, 190, 191. - - Allegiance, treaty with Germany concerning, 107. - - American Anti-Slavery Society in New York, Whittier secretary of, 260. - - _American Democrat, The_, 70, 94. - - _American Lands and Letters_, 449. - - American Loyalists, Irving’s attitude towards, 30; - in Westchester County, N. Y., 75. - - _American Note-Books of Nathaniel Hawthorne_, 292, 315. - - ‘American Scholar, The,’ Emerson’s Phi Beta Kappa oration, 152, 162. - - _Among My Books_, 458, 475, 476. - - _Among the Hills_, 263, 280. - - Amory, Susan, wife of William Hickling Prescott, 125. - - ‘Analectic Magazine,’ conducted by Irving, 6. - - André, Major John, Irving’s treatment of, 29. - - Anti-slavery movement, Whittier’s connection with, 259, 273–277; - Thoreau’s, 331; - Curtis’s, 420, 421; - Lowell’s, 456, 466, 479. - - _Anti-Slavery Papers_, Lowell’s, 459, 479. - - Appleton, Frances, wife of Longfellow, 225, 226. - - Archæological Institute of America, 383. - - Armada, the, 374. - - Arnold, Benedict, Irving’s treatment of, 29. - - Arnold, Matthew, 232. - - Astor, John Jacob, his commercial enterprise in the Northwest, the - subject of _Astoria_, 28. - - _At Sundown_, 263, 282. - - ‘Atlantic Monthly,’ founding of, and Whittier’s contributions to, 262; - Lowell editor of, 458. - - _Autocrat, The, of the Breakfast-Table_, 340, 345, 355. - - _Autumn_, Thoreau’s, 324, 331. - - - Bachiler, Stephen, 256. - - Bancroft, Aaron, father of George Bancroft, 101. - - Bancroft, George: his ancestry, 101; - education and foreign travel, 102; - tutor at Harvard, 103; - the Round Hill School, 103; - early works, 104; - political appointments, 105, 107; - founds United States Naval Academy, 105; - brings about treaty with Germany, 107; - last years, 107; - death, 108; - character, 108; - criticism of the History, 110–119. - - ‘Barbara Frietchie,’ remark of Whittier concerning, 265; - popularity of, 276. - - _Battle Summer_, 440, 444. - - _Belfry, The, of Bruges_, 225, 236. - - Benjamin, Mary, wife of John Lothrop Motley, 360; - her death, 364. - - Bigelow, Catharine, wife of Francis Parkman, 381. - - _Biglow Papers, The_, 456, 458, 466. - - Bismarck, his student life with Motley, 360. - - Bliss, Elisabeth (Davis), wife of George Bancroft, 105. - - _Blithedale Romance, The_, 291, 309. - - _Bonneville_, 28. - - _Book of the Roses_, 381 (note). - - Borrow, George, Emerson’s knowledge of, 182. - - Boston Lyceum, Poe’s appearance before, 197, 200. - - _Bracebridge Hall_, 7, 17. - - _Bravo, The_, 69, 89, 96. - - ‘Broadway Journal, The,’ Poe’s connection with, 196. - - Bronson, W. C., quoted, on Bryant, 43. - - Brook Farm, Emerson’s sympathy with, 154; - Hawthorne’s connection with, 289. - - Brown, John, Thoreau’s acquaintance with, 323. - - Bryant, Peter, father of William Cullen Bryant, 35. - - Bryant, Stephen, ancestor of William Cullen Bryant, 35. - - Bryant, William Cullen: his ancestry, 35; - early verses, 36; - education, 36, 37; - law practice, 37; - marriage, 38; - editorial work, 38–41; - political affiliations, 39, 40; - works published, 41; - travel, 42; - death, 43; - character, 44; - quarrel with an opponent, 45; - criticism of his work, 46–62; - his translations, 58; - quoted, on Cooper’s quarrel with the Press, 70. - - Burr, Aaron, Washington Irving among counsel for defence of, 5. - - Burroughs, John, 243. - - ‘Burton’s Gentleman’s Magazine and American Monthly,’ Poe’s - connection with, 194. - - Byron, George Gordon Noel, visits American flagship, 103. - - - Cabot, Sebastian, passage on, from Bancroft, 110. - - Cambridge (England), University of, confers degree on Holmes, 340; - on Lowell, 459. - - _Cape Cod_, 324, 331. - - Caraffa, Motley’s picture of, 371. - - Carlyle, Thomas, Emerson’s meeting with, 150; - correspondence with Emerson, 156; - quotation from, applied to Whitman, 495. - - _Cathedral, The_, 458, 470. - - Cavalier and Puritan, Bancroft’s comparison of, 111. - - _Chainbearer, The_, 71, 95. - - Champlain, Samuel, 392. - - Charles the Fifth, Prescott’s continuation of Robertson’s history of, - 127. - - _Children of the Lord’s Supper, The_, 231, 236. - - _Christus, a Mystery_, 226, 245. - - Civil Service reform, Curtis’s work for, 421. - - Clemm, Maria, 192, 194, 198. - - Clemm, Virginia, 192; - her marriage to Edgar Allan Poe, 193; - her death, 197. - - Clough, Arthur Hugh, effect on, of reading Evangeline, 232; - visits America, 457. - - Cogswell, Joseph G., 103. - - Columbus, Irving’s life of, 8, 20. - - _Commemoration Ode_, 458, 470. - - _Conduct of Life_, 156, 175. - - Conkling, Roscoe, his attack on Curtis, 423. - - _Conquest, The, of Granada_, 8, 22. - - _Conquest, The, of Mexico_, 127, 134. - - _Conquest, The, of Peru_, 127, 138. - - _Conspiracy, The, of Pontiac_, 381, 387. - - Constitution of the United States, history of, by Bancroft, 108. - - Cooper, James Fenimore: his ancestry, 65; - boyhood and education, 66; - enters the navy, 66; - marries and leaves the service, 67; - his first books, 67; - life abroad, 68; - return to America, 69; - quarrel with the Press, 69; - list of works, 70; - character, 72; - style, 74; - criticism of his works, 75–97. - - Cooper, William, father of James Fenimore Cooper, 65. - - Cortés, Prescott’s estimate of, 136. - - _Count Frontenac and New France under Louis XIV_, 382, 391, 393. - - _Courtship of Miles Standish, The_, 226, 242. - - Craigie, Mrs., her reception of Longfellow, 224. - - _Crater, The_, 71, 95. - - Croker, J. W., quoted, on Irving, 13. - - Curtis, George William: his ancestry, 417; - education, 418; - at Brook Farm and Concord, 418; - foreign travel, 418; - newspaper work, 419; - the ‘Easy Chair,’ 419; - books published, 419, 422; - orations, 420; - marriage, 420; - political work and Civil Service reform, 421; - character, 423; - style, 424; - criticism of his works, 427–435. - - Curtis family, 417. - - - Dante, Longfellow’s translation of, 226, 249. - - Davis, Elisabeth, wife of George Bancroft, 105. - - _Deerslayer, The_, 66, 71, 81. - - Defoe, Poe compared with, 203. - - De Lancey, Susan, wife of James Fenimore Cooper, 67; - her family, 75. - - ‘Democracy,’ 480. - - ‘Dial, The,’ 153. - - Dickens, Charles, dinner to, in New York, 46; - quotation from letter of, to Longfellow, 228; - greeting to, by O. W. Holmes, 350. - - _Divine Tragedy, The_, 226, 245. - - ‘Divinity Address,’ Emerson’s, 152, 163. - - _Dr. Grimshawe’s Secret_, 292, 316. - - _Doctor Johns_, 441, 448. - - _Dolliver Romance, The_, 292, 316. - - Doyle, Peter, quoted, on Whitman, 504. - - _Dream Life_, 440, 443, 447. - - _Drum-Taps_, 488, 502. - - Duelling, Bryant’s farce in ridicule of, 38. - - Dunlap, Frances, wife of James Russell Lowell, 457. - - Dutch life, Irving’s treatment of, 32. - - Duyckinck, E. A., 42. - - Dwight, Sarah, wife of George Bancroft, 105. - - - _Early Spring in Massachusetts_, 324, 331. - - ‘Easy Chair’ papers, 419, 422, 425, 430. - - Edinburgh, University of, confers degree on Holmes, 341. - - _El Dorado_, 403. - - _Elsie Venner_, 340, 352. - - _Embargo, The_, 36. - - Emerson, Ralph Waldo: his ancestry, 147; - boyhood, 148; - education, 149; - ordination and withdrawal from the ministry, 149, 150; - begins lecturing, 151; - settles in Concord, 151; - notable addresses, 152; - connection with Transcendental movement, 152; - lecture tour in England, 154; - position on slavery, 155; - list of his works, 155; - visitor to West Point and overseer of Harvard, 156; - nominated for Lord Rector of Glasgow University, 156; - death, 157; - character, 157; - criticism of his works, 160–186; - quoted, on Bancroft, 103, 109; - club meetings in his library, 418; - Holmes’s life of, 354. - - Emerson family, 147. - - _English Lands, Letters, and Kings_, 449. - - _English Note-Books of Nathaniel Hawthorne_, 292, 315. - - _English Traits_, 156, 173. - - _Evangeline_, 225; - metre of, 231; - stimulating effect of, on Clough, 232; - popularity of, 240. - - Everett, Alexander, influential in Irving’s going to Spain, 8. - - Everett, Edward, 102. - - _Excursions_, Thoreau’s, 324, 330, 332. - - - _Fable, A, for Critics_, 456, 458, 468. - - Fairchild, Frances, wife of William Cullen Bryant, 38. - - _Familiar Letters_, Thoreau’s, 324, 326, 332. - - _Fanshawe_, 288. - - _Faust_, Taylor’s translation of, 405, 410. - - Ferdinand and Isabella, Prescott’s history of, 127, 131, 132. - - ‘Fighting parson, the,’ 148. - - _Fireside Travels_, 459, 474. - - Fiske, John, cited, on Longfellow’s treatment of Cotton Mather in - _The New England Tragedies_, 247. - - Fitzgerald, Edward, 237. - - _French and Italian Note-Books of Nathaniel Hawthorne_, 292, 315. - - Freeman, Edward A., quoted, 31. - - _Fresh Gleanings_, 439, 443, 444. - - ‘Frogpondians,’ 200. - - Frontenac, Count, in the New World, 393. - - _Fudge Doings_, 441, 445. - - Fuller, Margaret, 153; - Emerson’s _Memoirs_ of, 156; - her attack on Longfellow, 229; - schoolmate of Holmes, 338. - - - Gardiner, John, 124. - - Garnett, Richard, quoted, on Emerson, 185. - - Garrison, William Lloyd, his relations with Whittier, 257, 258. - - Gay, Sidney Howard, 42, 456. - - _Giles Corey of the Salem Farms_, 246. - - _Gleanings in Europe_, Cooper’s, 94. - - Godwin, Parke, quoted, on Bryant, 44. - - Goethe, Emerson’s estimate of, 173. - - ‘Gold-Bug, The,’ wins prize, 196. - - _Golden Legend, The_, 225, 245, 246. - - Goldsmith, Irving’s life of, 27; - reference to his work, 449. - - ‘Graham’s Magazine,’ Poe’s connection with, 195. - - _Grandfather’s Chair_, 289, 300. - - Greeley, Horace, his advice to Taylor on writing letters of travel, - 402. - - Green, John Richard, quoted, on Motley, 364. - - Greenough, Horatio, quotation from letter of, to Cooper, 93. - - Griswold, Rufus W., 196. - - _Guardian Angel, The_, 340, 352. - - _Guide, A, in the Wilderness_, 66 (note). - - _Gulliver’s Travels_, Irish bishop’s remark concerning, 76. - - - _Half-Century, A, of Conflict_, 382, 391, 394. - - _Hannah Thurston_, 405. - - Hansen, Marie, wife of Bayard Taylor, 406. - - Harlan, James, extract from letter of, concerning Walt Whitman’s - removal from government clerkship, 488 (note). - - ‘Harper’s Weekly’ and ‘Harper’s Monthly,’ Curtis’s connection with, - 419, 421, 422. - - Harrison, Frederic, his criticism of _Evangeline_, 251. - - Haweis, H. R., 460. - - Hawthorne, Nathaniel: his ancestry, 287; - boyhood and college life, 288; - his first book, 288; - collector of the Port of Boston, 289; - joins Brook Farm Community, 289; - marriage, 290; - Surveyor of Customs at Salem, 290; - consul at Liverpool, 291; - failing health and death, 293; - his character, 293; - style, 296; - criticism of his works, 298–317; - his refusal to write an Acadian story, 240. - - Hawthorne family, 287. - - ‘Haverhill Gazette,’ Whittier’s connection with, 258, 259. - - _Headsman, The_, 69, 91. - - _Heartsease and Rue_, 459, 473. - - _Heidenmauer, The_, 69, 91. - - Henry, Prince, of Hoheneck, the subject of _The Golden Legend_, 246. - - ‘Heroes, The,’ 38. - - _Hiawatha_, 225; - the metre of, 232; - popularity of, 240; - sources and purpose of, 242. - - _History, The, of the Navy of the United States of America_, 70, 93. - - _History of the United Netherlands_, 362, 369, 373. - - Holmes, Abiel, father of Oliver Wendell Holmes, 337. - - Holmes, Oliver Wendell: his ancestry, 337; - education, 338; - professor at Dartmouth College, 338; - marriage, 339; - professor at Harvard, 339; - contributions to the ‘Atlantic Monthly,’ 340; - list of his works, 340; - death, 341; - character, 341; - style, 344; - criticism of his works, 345–355; - his ‘occasional’ poems, 350; - his fiction, 352; - his biography, 354; - quoted, on Longfellow, 230; - his explanation of the ease of the metre of Hiawatha, 232. - - _Home as Found_, 70, 92, 96. - - _Home Ballads_, 263, 277. - - _Home Pastorals, Ballads and Lyrics_, 405, 412. - - _Homeward Bound_, 70, 92. - - _House, The, of the Seven Gables_, 290, 305. - - _Howadji, The, in Syria_, 419, 428. - - Howe, Judge Samuel, anecdote of, as Bryant’s instructor in law, 37. - - Howells, William Dean, his description of Thoreau, 326. - - ‘Hub of the Solar System,’ 347. - - _Hyperion_, 225, 233. - - - _In the Harbor_, 227, 250. - - _In War Time_, 263, 276. - - Indian life as shown in Cooper’s novels, 79–82; - in Hiawatha, 242; - in Parkman’s histories, 380, 387–389. - - Ireland, Alexander, arranges lecturing trip for Emerson in England, - 154. - - Irish Presbyterians in New Hampshire, 268. - - Irving, Peter, brother of Washington Irving, 5–7. - - Irving, Pierre M., makes first draft of _Astoria_, 27. - - Irving, Washington: his ancestry, 3; - childhood and education, 4; - early writings, 5–7; - Secretary of American Legation in London, 8; - Minister to Spain, 9, 10; - political opportunities, 9; - death, 10; - character, 10; - criticism of writings, 13–32; - assists Bryant, 41; - mention of Bryant’s oration on, 43; - reference to his style, 116. - - Irving, William, father of Washington Irving, 3. - - Irving, William T., brother of Washington Irving, 6. - - Ivry, battle of, 374. - - - _Jack Tar_, 71, 95. - - Jackson, Amelia, wife of O. W. Holmes, 339. - - Jackson, Lydia, wife of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 151. - - James, Henry, reference to his story, ‘The Death of the Lion,’ 297. - - Jameson, J. F., quoted, on Bancroft, 117 (note). - - _Jesuits, The, in North America_, 382, 391, 392. - - _John Endicott_, 246, 247. - - _John Godfrey’s Fortunes_, 405, 406. - - _John of Barneveld_, 363, 369, 375. - - ‘Jonathan Oldstyle’ letters, 5. - - Jones, John Paul, 82. - - _Journal, The, of Julius Rodman_, 204. - - _Judas Maccabeus_, 248. - - - _Kavanagh_, 225, 235. - - Kennedy, John P., 193, 194. - - _Kéramos_, 226, 250. - - _Knickerbocker’s New York_, 6, 14. - - - Lafayette, defended by Cooper, 69; - Emerson’s meeting with, 150; - visits David Poe’s grave, 189. - - Lamb, Charles, 449. - - _Lars_, 405, 412. - - _La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West_, 382, 391, 392. - - _Last, The, of the Mohicans_, 68, 79. - - _Leather-Stocking Tales_, 77–81. - - _Leaves of Grass_, 487, 490, 494, 503. - - _Legends of New England_, 259, 261; - Whittier’s opinion of, 267; - partial suppression of, 270. - - _Legends of the Conquest of Spain_, 9, 26. - - Leggett, William, his attack on Irving, 12; - assists Bryant in editing the ‘New York Evening Post,’ 39; - Whittier pays tribute to, 269. - - _Letter, A, to his Countrymen_, Cooper’s, 70, 93. - - _Letters and Social Aims_, 156, 182. - - _Letters of a Traveller_, 41, 47. - - _Letters to Various Persons_, Thoreau’s, 324. - - _Library of Poetry and Song_, Bryant’s connection with, 42. - - Lincoln, Abraham, Lowell’s tribute to, 471. - - Linzee, Captain, 125. - - _Lionel Lincoln_, 68, 77. - - Lisfranc, Jacques, Holmes’s feeling towards, 341. - - _Literary Recollections and Miscellanies_, Whittier’s, 262, 269. - - Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth: his ancestry, 221; - education and early poems, 222; - professorship at Bowdoin, 223; - marriage, 223; - Harvard professorship, 224, 225; - death of his wife, 224; - occupancy of the Craigie House, 224; - second marriage, 225; - lists of books published, 225, 226; - death of Mrs. Longfellow, 226; - honors conferred on Longfellow, 227; - his death, 227; - character, 228; - poetical style, 230; - criticism of his works, 233–250. - - _Lorgnette, The_, 440, 445, 446. - - _Lotus-Eating_, 419, 429. - - Louisbourg, siege of, 394. - - Lowell, James Russell: his ancestry, 453; - education, 454; - starts ‘The Pioneer,’ 454; - first books, 455; - connection with ‘The National Anti-Slavery Standard,’ 456; - winter abroad, 456; - death of Mrs. Lowell, 457; - Harvard professor, 457; - second marriage, 457; - editor of Atlantic Monthly’ and ‘North American Review,’ 458; - list of books published, 458; - Minister to Spain, 459; - Minister to England, 460; - last years, 460; - character, 461; - style, 463; - criticism of his works, 465–482. - - Lowell family, 453. - - ‘Lynn Pythoness,’ 259. - - - _Mahomet and his Successors_, 9, 23. - - _Maine Woods, The_, 324, 330. - - ‘MS. Found in a Bottle,’ wins prize, 193. - - _Marble Faun, The_, 291, 310. - - _Margaret Smith’s Journal, Leaves from_, 262, 267, 268. - - _Masque, The, of Pandora_, 226, 248. - - _Masque, The, of the Gods_, 405, 413. - - Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Society, its treatment of Emerson, 155. - - Mather, Cotton, Longfellow’s treatment of, in _The New England - Tragedies_, 247. - - _Mercedes of Castile_, 71, 92. - - _Merry-Mount_, 360, 361. - - _Michael Angelo_, 227, 248. - - _Miles Wallingford_, 71, 88. - - _Miriam_, 263, 280. - - Mitchell, Donald Grant: his ancestry and education, 439; - his first book, 439; - consul at Venice, 441; - marriage, 441; - list of his books, 441; - editorial work and lecturing, 442; - his character and literary style, 442; - criticism of his works, 444–450. - - _Mogg Megone_, 261; - Whittier’s objection to reprinting, 266, 270. - - _Monikins, The_, 70, 92. - - Montaigne, as one of Emerson’s _Representative Men_, 172. - - _Montcalm and Wolfe_, 382, 391, 395. - - Moody, Father, 148. - - ‘Morituri Salutamus,’ anecdote of the reading of, at Bowdoin, 229. - - Morris, William, reference to his _Earthly Paradise_, 244. - - _Mortal Antipathy, A_, 340, 353. - - _Mosses from an Old Manse_, 290, 299. - - Motley, John Lothrop: his ancestry and education, 359; - foreign study, 360; - intimacy with Bismarck, 360; - admission to the bar, 360; - marriage, 360; - publication of novels and essays, 360; - Secretary to American Legation in St. Petersburg, 361; - member of Massachusetts legislature, 361; - residence abroad for historical study, 362; - scholastic honors, 363; - Minister to Austria, 363; - to England, 364; - death, 364; - his character, 365; - style, 367; - criticism of his histories, 369–376; - Holmes’s memoir of, 354. - - Murat, Achille, meets Emerson, 149. - - _My Farm of Edgewood_, 441, 448. - - _My Study Windows_, 458, 475. - - - Napoleon, Emerson’s estimate of, 172. - - _Narrative, The, of Arthur Gordon Pym_, 194, 203. - - ‘National Anti-Slavery Standard,’ Lowell’s connection with, 456. - - _Natural History of Intellect_, 156, 183. - - _Nature_, Emerson’s, 151, 155, 160, 176. - - _Ned Myers_, 66, 71. - - Netherlands, Motley’s history of, 362, 369, 373. - - ‘Neutral ground, The,’ 75. - - _New England Tragedies, The_, 226, 245. - - ‘New York Evening Post,’ Bryant’s connection with, 39. - - ‘New York Review and Athenæum Magazine,’ Bryant’s editorship of, 38. - - _Nile Notes of a Howadji_, 419, 427. - - ‘North American Review,’ Bryant’s early contributions to, 37; - Lowell’s connection with, 458. - - Norton, Andrews, his disagreement with Emerson, 152. - - - _Oak Openings, The_, 71, 95. - - ‘Old Manse, The,’ 147; - Hawthorne’s occupancy of, 290. - - _Old Portraits and Modern Sketches_, 262, 269. - - _Old Régime, The_, 382, 391, 393. - - ‘On a Certain Condescension in Foreigners,’ 460. - - _Oregon Trail, The_, 381, 387. - - Ossoli, Margaret Fuller. See Fuller, Margaret. - - Otsego Hall, home of the Coopers, 66, 69. - - _Our Hundred Days in Europe_, 340, 348. - - _Our Old Home_, 292; - anecdote of the dedication of, to Franklin Pierce, 295; - character of, 314. - - _Outre-Mer_, 225, 233, 234. - - _Over the Teacups_, 340, 348, 355. - - Oxford, University of, confers degree on Longfellow, 227; - on Holmes, 340; - on Motley, 363; - on Lowell, 459. - - - Parkman, Francis: his ancestry, 379; - education, 380; - interest in Indian life, 380; - first book, 381; - marriage, 381; - ill health, 381; - list of his works, 382; - honors, 383; - character, 383; - literary style, 385; - criticism of his works, 387–398. - - Parkman family, 379. - - Pastorius, Daniel, the subject of the _Pennsylvania Pilgrim_, 280. - - _Pathfinder, The_, 67, 71, 81. - - Paulding, J. K., 6. - - Peabody, Sophia, wife of Nathaniel Hawthorne, 289. - - ‘Penn Magazine, The,’ projected by Poe, 195. - - Pennsylvania Hall, sacking of, by a pro-slavery mob, 260. - - _Pennsylvania Pilgrim, The_, 263, 280. - - Phi Beta Kappa poem by Bryant, 38. - - Philip the Second, Bancroft’s history of, 127, 131, 141; - Motley’s treatment of, 372–375. - - _Picture, The, of St. John_, 405, 409, 412. - - Pierce, Franklin: his friendship with Hawthorne, 288, 293; - Hawthorne’s life of, 292. - - _Pilot, The_, 67, 71, 82. - - ‘Pioneer, The,’ Lowell’s magazine, 454. - - _Pioneers, The_, 66, 67, 71, 77. - - _Pioneers, The, of France in the New World_, 382, 391. - - Pizarro, Francisco, his exploits in Peru, 138. - - Pizarro, Gonzalo, his march across the Andes, 140. - - Plato, Emerson on, 171. - - Poe, Edgar Allan: his ancestry, 189; - adoption by the Allans, 190; - education, 190; - enters West Point, 191; - early writings, 192; - marriage, 193; - editorial work, 193; - lecturing, 196; - affair of the Boston Lyceum, 197, 200; - death of his wife, 197; - proposal of marriage to Mrs. Shelton, 198; - death, 198; - character, 198; - style, 201; - criticism of his works, 203–211; - his work as a critic, 211–215; - quality of his poetry, 215. - - _Poems of Home and Travel_, 405, 410. - - _Poems of the Orient_, 405, 411. - - _Poet, The, at the Breakfast-Table_, 340, 347. - - Poetry, quality, of, 49; - Bryant’s theory of, 48–50; - Poe’s, 213. - - _Poet’s Journal, The_, 405, 411. - - _Poets and Poetry of Europe_, 225, 237. - - _Potiphar Papers, The_, 419, 429. - - Potter, Mary Storer, wife of Longfellow, 223, 224. - - _Prairie, The_, 68, 80. - - _Precaution_, 67. - - Prentice, George, 259. - - Prescott, William Hickling: his ancestry, 123; - education, 124; - accident to his eyes, 125; - marriage, 125; - beginning of his literary work, 126; - list of his works, 127; - death, 127; - character, 128; - his style, 130; - criticism of his works, 132–143; - his aid to Motley, 361. - - Prescott family, 123. - - _Prince Deukalion_, 405, 413. - - _Professor, The, at the Breakfast-Table_, 340, 347. - - _Prophet, The_, 405, 413. - - _Prue and I_, 419, 430. - - Puritan and Cavalier, Bancroft’s comparison of, 111. - - ‘Putnam’s Magazine,’ Curtis’s connection with, 419; Lowell’s, 457. - - - ‘Quaker Poet,’ 256. - - Quakers, Longfellow’s treatment of, in _John Endicott_, 246; - relations of the Whittier family to, 257, 262, 272. - - - ‘Raven, The,’ 196, 215. - - _Red Rover, The_, 68, 71, 84, 86. - - _Redskins, The_, 71, 95. - - _Representative Men_, 155, 171. - - _Reveries of a Bachelor_, 440, 443, 446, 450. - - Ripley, George, 153. - - _Rise, The, of the Dutch Republic_, 362, 369. - - Rogers, Samuel, Bryant dedicates book to, 41. - - Round Hill School for Boys, Bancroft’s connection with, 103, 104; - Longfellow considers buying, 224; - Motley a student at, 359. - - - St. Boniface, Church of, Winnipeg, honors Whittier, 263. - - St. Botolph Club, Boston, Parkman’s connection with, 383. - - _Salmagundi_, 6. - - _Satanstoe_, 71, 95, 96. - - ‘Saturday Visitor, The,’ offers prizes, for which Poe competes, 192. - - _Scarlet Letter, The_, 290, 302. - - _Sea Lions, The_, 71, 96. - - _Seaside, The, and the Fireside_, 225, 237. - - _Septimius Felton_, 292, 316. - - _Seven Stories_, 441, 447. - - Shakespeare, Emerson’s estimate of, 172. - - Shaw, Anna, wife of George William Curtis, 420. - - Shays’s Rebellion, incident of, 102. - - Simms, William Gilmore, his advice to Poe, 201. - - _Sketch Book, The_, 7, 15, 234. - - _Sketches of Switzerland_, Cooper’s, 94. - - Smith, Goldwin, 300. - - Smithell’s Hall, Bolton-le-Moors, tradition connected with, 316. - - _Snow Image, The_, 292, 301. - - _Snow-Bound_, 263, 267, 278. - - _Society and Solitude_, 156, 182. - - _Songs of Labor_, 262, 276. - - ‘Southern Literary Messenger, The,’ Poe’s connection with, 193. - - _Spanish Student, The_, 225, 239. - - _Specimen Days and Collect_, 489, 503. - - _Spy, The_, 67, 71, 75. - - Stanley, Dean, quoted, on Motley, 364. - - Stedman, Edmund C., quoted on Poe, 212. - - Stephen, Leslie, quoted, 32. - - _Story, The, of Kennett_, 406. - - _Summer_, Thoreau’s, 324, 331. - - ‘Sunnyside,’ Irving’s home, 9. - - _Supernaturalism, The, of New England_, 261, 268. - - Swedenborg, Emanuel, 172. - - Swinburne, A. C., quotation from, applied to Whitman, 495. - - - Tâché, Archbishop, 263. - - _Tales of a Traveller_, 7, 18. - - _Tales of a Wayside Inn_, 226, 243. - - _Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque_, 195, 203–211. - - ‘Talisman, The,’ Bryant’s editorial work on, 39. - - _Tamerlane_, 191. - - _Tanglewood Tales_, 292, 301. - - Taylor, Bayard: birth and education, 402; - travels on foot, 402; - journalistic work, 403; - extensive travels, 403; - lists of his books, 403, 405, 406; - marriages, 406; - Minister to Germany, 407; - death, 407; - character, 407; - style, 409; - criticism of his poetical works, 410–414. - - Tennyson, Emerson’s attitude toward, 183. - - _Tent, The, on the Beach_, 263, 272; - Whittier’s remark on the popularity of, 278; - scheme of, 279. - - ‘Thanatopsis,’ 36, 37, 57. - - Thoreau, Henry David: his ancestry, 321; - early occupations, 321; - outdoor life, 322; - first book, 322; - lecturing, 323; - abolition sympathies, 323; - acquaintance with John Brown, 323; - list of his works, 324; - travels, 324; - death, 324; - character, 325; - criticism of his works, 327–333. - - _Three Books of Song_, 226, 245. - - _Three Memorial Poems_, 459, 471. - - Three Mile Point, Cooperstown, N. Y. controversy concerning, 69. - - Ticknor, George, his friendship with Prescott, 126; - resigns professorship in favor of Longfellow, 224. - - Tories of the American Revolution, Irving’s attitude towards, 29, 30. - - Transcendental movement, 152, 165. - - _Transformation._ See _Marble Faun_. - - _Travelling Bachelor, Notions of the Americans picked up by a_, 68, - 93. - - _Trumps_, 419, 430. - - Tucker, Ellen, wife of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 149. - - _Twice-Told Tales_, 289, 298. - - _Two Admirals, The_, 71, 86. - - - _Ultima Thule_, 227, 250. - - _United Netherlands, History of the_, 362, 369, 373. - - United States, Bancroft’s history of, 104, 110, 113. - - ‘United States Literary Gazette,’ Longfellow’s contributions to, 222. - - United States Naval Academy at Annapolis, founding of, 105. - - ‘Upside Down, or Philosophy in Petticoats,’ 71. - - - _Vassall Morton_, 380, 381, 390. - - _Views Afloat_, 402, 404. - - _Vision of Echard, The_, 263, 281. - - _Vision of Sir Launfal, The_, 456, 468. - - _Voices of Freedom_, 261, 274. - - _Voices of the Night_, 223, 236. - - _Voyages of the Companions of Columbus_, 8, 22. - - - _Walden_, 323, 324, 329, 332. - - Wansey, Henry, mention of his _Excursion to the United States_, 48. - - Ware, Henry, Emerson colleague of, 149. - - Washington, Irving’s life of, 28; - Lowell’s tribute to, 472. - - _Water-Witch, The_, 68, 71, 85. - - _Ways of the Hour_, 71, 95. - - Wayside Inn, the, 244. - - Weed, Thurlow, quoted, 69. - - _Week, A, on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers_, 322, 324, 328, 331. - - _Wept of Wish-ton-Wish, The_, 68, 71, 81. - - _Wet Days at Edgewood_, 441, 448. - - Whewell, William, makes inquiries about _Evangeline_, 241. - - White, Maria, wife of James Russell Lowell, 455; - her death, 457. - - White, T. W., his association with Poe, 193. - - Whitman, Walt: his ancestry, 485; - education and early occupations, 486; - journeyings in the United States, 486; - publication of _Leaves of Grass_, 487; - work as army nurse and government clerk, 487; - life in Camden, N. J., 488; - list of his writings, 488; - subsidence of opposition, 489; - growth of his reputation, 490; - English admirers, 491; - his Boston publisher threatened with prosecution, 492; - criticism of his work, 492–496; - his character, 504; - mention of, in comparison with Longfellow, 250. - - Whitman family, 485. - - Whittier, John Greenleaf; his ancestry, 255; - boyhood, 256; - early writings, 257; - beginning of acquaintance with Garrison, 258; - attends Haverhill Academy, 258; - editorial work, 259–261; - beginning of anti-slavery work, 259; - encounters with mobs, 260; - love of country life, 260; - lists of his works, 261, 263; - contributions to ‘Atlantic Monthly,’ 262; - overseer of Harvard College, 262; - places of residence, 262; - death, 263; - character, 264; - his literary art, 266; - criticism of his works, 269–283; - his description of Bayard Taylor, 408. - - Whittier family, 255. - - _Wing-and-Wing_, 66, 71, 86. - - _Winter_, Thoreau’s, 324, 331. - - _Wolfert’s Roost_, 27. - - _Wonder-Book, The_, 292, 301. - - Worsley, Philip S., quoted, 58. - - _Wyandotté_, 71, 81. - - - Ximenes, Mateo, his association with Irving, 25. - - - _Yankee, A, in Canada_, 324, 331. - - _Year’s Life, A_, 455. - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes - - -Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a -predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they -were not changed. - -Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced quotation -marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and otherwise left -unbalanced. - -The index was not checked for proper alphabetization or correct page -references. - -Transcriber removed redundant chapter headings. - -Lists of reference materials, originally printed at the bottom of the -first page of each biography, have been moved to just after the chapter -headings and labelled as “References:” by the Transcriber. - -Footnotes, originally printed at the bottoms of pages, have been -renumbered, collected, moved to the ends of their chapters, and -labelled as “Footnotes:” by the Transcriber. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN LITERARY MASTERS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Vincent</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: American literary masters</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Leon H. Vincent</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 4, 2022 [eBook #68683]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Charlene Taylor, Charlie Howard, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN LITERARY MASTERS ***</div> - -<div class="center vspace wspace"> -<h1> -AMERICAN<br /> -LITERARY MASTERS</h1> - -<p class="p1 large">BY LEON H. VINCENT</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="max-width: 10em;"> - <img src="images/i_logo.png" width="438" height="447" alt="logo" /> -</div> - -<p class="p2">BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br /> -<span class="larger">HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY</span><br /> -<span class="smaller bold">The Riverside Press Cambridge</span> -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p class="newpage p4 small"> -COPYRIGHT 1906 BY LEON H. VINCENT<br /> -ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</p> - -<p class="p1 small"><i>Published March 1906</i> -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p class="newpage p4"> -TO<br /> -<span class="larger">GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY</span> -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFACE">PREFACE</h2> -</div> - -<p><i>The nineteen men of letters whose work is reviewed -in this volume represent an important half-century -of our national literary life. The starting-point -is the year 1809, the date of “A History -of New York by Diedrich Knickerbocker.” No -author is included whose reputation does not rest, in -part, on some notable book published before 1860.</i></p> - -<p><i>Readers of modern French criticism will not -need to be told that the plan of dividing the studies -into short sections was taken from Faguet’s admirable -“Dix-Septième Siècle.”</i></p> - -<p><i>I am indebted for many helpful criticisms to -Mr. James R. Joy, to Miss Mary Charlotte -Priest, and especially to Mr. Lindsay Swift of -the Boston Public Library.</i></p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<i>L. H. V.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>January 23, 1906.</i></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Contents"><i>Contents</i></h2> -</div> - -<table id="toc"> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_1">WASHINGTON IRVING</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_1">3</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_2">10</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Writer</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_3">13</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Early Work: Knickerbocker’s History, Sketch Book, Bracebridge Hall, Tales of a Traveller</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_4">14</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Historical Writings: Columbus, Conquest of Granada, Mahomet</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_5">20</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Spanish Romance: The Alhambra, Legends of the Conquest of Spain</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_6">24</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>American History and Travel: A Tour on the Prairies, Astoria, Life of Washington</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_7">27</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_2">WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_8">35</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_9">44</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Literary Craftsman</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_10">46</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Poet</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_11">50</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Latest Poetical Work: The Iliad and the Odyssey</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_12">58</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_3">JAMES FENIMORE COOPER</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_13">65</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_14">72</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Writer</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_15">74</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">x</span></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Romances of the American Revolution: The Spy, Lionel Lincoln</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_16">75</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Leather-Stocking Tales and Other Indian Stories</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_17">77</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Sea Stories from The Pilot to Miles Wallingford</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_18">82</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Old-World Romance and New-World Satire: The Bravo, The Heidenmauer, The Headsman, Homeward Bound, Home as Found</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_19">89</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VIII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Travels, History, Political Writings, and Latest Novels</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_20">93</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_4">GEORGE BANCROFT</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_21">101</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_22">108</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Writer</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_23">110</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The History of the United States</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_24">113</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_5">WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_25">123</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_26">128</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Writer</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_27">130</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Histories</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_28">132</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_6">RALPH WALDO EMERSON</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_29">147</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_30">157</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Writer</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_31">159</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Nature, Addresses, and Lectures</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_32">160</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Essays, Representative Men, English Traits, Conduct of Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_33">166</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">xi</span></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Poems</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_34">176</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Latest Books</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_35">182</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_7">EDGAR ALLAN POE</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_36">189</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_37">198</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Prose Writer</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_38">201</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_39">203</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Critic</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_40">211</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Poet</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_41">215</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_8">HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_42">221</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_43">228</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Poet</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_44">230</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Outre-Mer, Hyperion, Kavanagh</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_45">233</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Voices of the Night, Ballads, Spanish Student, Belfry of Bruges, The Seaside and the Fireside</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_46">236</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Evangeline, Hiawatha, Miles Standish, Tales of a Wayside Inn</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_47">240</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Christus, Judas Maccabæus, Pandora, Michael Angelo</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_48">245</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VIII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Last Works</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_49">249</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_9">JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_50">255</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_51">264</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Poet</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_52">266</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Narrative and Legendary Verse</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_53">269</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Voices of Freedom, Songs of Labor, In War Time</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_54">273</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">xii</span></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Snow-Bound, Tent on the Beach, Pennsylvania Pilgrim, Vision of Echard</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_55">277</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_10">NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_56">287</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_57">293</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Writer</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_58">296</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Short Stories: Twice-Told Tales, Mosses from an Old Manse, The Snow-Image</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_59">298</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Great Romances: Scarlet Letter, House of the Seven Gables, Blithedale Romance, Marble Faun</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_60">302</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Latest and Posthumous Writings: Our Old Home, Note-Books, Dolliver Romance</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_61">314</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_11">HENRY DAVID THOREAU</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_62">321</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_63">325</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Writer</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_64">327</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Books</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_65">328</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_12">OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_66">337</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Man</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_67">341</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Writer</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_68">344</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Autocrat and its Companions, Over the Teacups, Our Hundred Days in Europe</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_69">345</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Poet</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_70">349</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Fiction and Biography</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_71">352</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_13">JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_72">359</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_73">365</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">xiii</span></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Writer</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_74">367</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Histories</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_75">369</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_14">FRANCIS PARKMAN</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_76">379</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_77">383</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Writer</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_78">385</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Early Work: Oregon Trail, Conspiracy of Pontiac, Vassall Morton</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_79">387</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>France and England in North America</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_80">390</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_15">BAYARD TAYLOR</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_81">401</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_82">407</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Artist</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_83">409</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Poetical Works</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_84">410</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_16">GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_85">417</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Man</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_86">423</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Writer and the Orator</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_87">424</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Nile Notes of a Howadji, Prue and I, Trumps</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_88">427</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Easy Chair</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_89">430</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Orations and Addresses</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_90">433</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_17">DONALD GRANT MITCHELL</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_91">439</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Author and the Man</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_92">442</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Writings</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_93">444</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_18">JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_94">453</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">xiv</span></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Lowell’s Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_95">461</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Poet and Prose Writer</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_96">463</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Poems, The Biglow Papers, Fable for Critics, Vision of Sir Launfal</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_97">465</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Under the Willows, The Cathedral, Commemoration Ode, Three Memorial Poems, Heartsease and Rue</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_98">469</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Fireside Travels, My Study Windows, Among my Books, Latest Literary Essays</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_99">474</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Political Addresses and Papers</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_100">479</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl chap" colspan="3"><a href="#chaplink_19">WALT WHITMAN</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>His Life</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_101">485</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Growth of a Reputation</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_102">490</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Writer</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_103">492</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Leaves of Grass</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_104">494</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Specimen Days and Collect</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_105">503</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr top">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Whitman’s Character</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sec_106">504</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">1</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_1" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="I">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>Washington Irving</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p>[<b>E. A. Duyckinck</b>]: <i>Irvingiana, a Memorial of Washington -Irving</i>, 1860.</p> - -<p><b>W. C. Bryant</b>: <i>A Discourse on the Life, Character, and -Genius of Washington Irving</i>, 1860.</p> - -<p><b>Pierre M. Irving</b>: <i>The Life and Letters of Washington -Irving</i>, 1862–64.</p> - -<p><b>C. D. Warner</b>: <i>The Work of Washington Irving</i>, 1893.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_1">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap b"><span class="smcap1">Scotch</span> and English blood flowed in Washington -Irving’s veins. His father, William Irving -(whose ancestry has been traced by genealogical -enthusiasts to De Irwyn, armor-bearer to Robert -Bruce), was a native of Shapinsha, one of the Orkney -Islands; his mother, Sarah (Sanders) Irving, -came from Falmouth.</p> - -<p>At the time of his marriage William Irving was -a petty officer on an armed packet-ship plying between -Falmouth and New York. Two years later -(1763) he gave up seafaring, settled in New York, -and started a mercantile business. He enjoyed a -competency, but like other patriotic citizens suffered -from the demoralization of trade during the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span> -Revolution. His character suggested that of the -old Scotch covenanter. Though not without tenderness, -he was in the main strict and puritanical.</p> - -<p>Washington Irving was born in New York on -April 3, 1783. He was the youngest of a family -of eleven, five of whom died in childhood. Irving -could perfectly remember the great patriot for -whom he was named. He was much indebted to -the good old Scotchwoman, his nurse, who, seeing -Washington enter a shop on Broadway, darted -in after him and presented her small charge with -‘Please your Excellency, here’s a bairn that’s -called after ye!’ ‘General Washington,’ said Irving, -recounting the incident in after years, ‘then -turned his benevolent face full upon me, smiled, -laid his hand on my head, and gave me his blessing.... -I was but five years old, yet I can feel -that hand upon my head even now.’</p> - -<p>Up to the age of fifteen Irving attended such -schools as New York afforded. He was not precocious. -He came home from school one day (he -was then about eight) and remarked to his mother: -‘The madame says I am a dunce; isn’t it a pity?’</p> - -<p>Two of his brothers had been sent to Columbia -College; that he was not, may be attributed partly -to ill health, partly to an indolent waywardness -of disposition and to the indulgence so often -granted the youngest member of a large family. -Always an inveterate reader, he contrived in time -to educate himself by methods unapproved of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span> -pedagogical science. He decided on a legal career -and entered the office of a well-known practitioner, -Henry Masterton. During the two years he was -there he acquired some law and attained ‘considerable -proficiency in belles-lettres.’ He studied -for a time with Brockholst Livingston (afterwards -judge of the Supreme Court), and later with Josiah -Ogden Hoffman.</p> - -<p>As a boy Irving had always ‘scribbled’ more or -less, and in 1802 he scribbled to some purpose, -contributing the ‘Jonathan Oldstyle’ letters to the -‘Morning Chronicle,’ a paper founded and edited -by his brother Peter Irving. His ambitions seemed -likely to be frustrated by poor health, and a trip -abroad was advised. He went to the Mediterranean, -visited Italy, and spent a little time in -France and England. The journey was not without -adventures. He saw Nelson’s fleet on its way -to Trafalgar; his boat was overhauled by pirates -near Elba; and in Rome he met Madame de Staël, -who almost overpowered him by her amazing volubility -and the pertinacity of her questioning.</p> - -<p>On his return home Irving passed his examinations -(November, 1806), and was admitted to the -bar with but slender legal outfit, as he frankly confessed. -He was enrolled among the counsel for the -defence at the trial of Aaron Burr at Richmond. -There was no thought of taxing his untried legal -skill; he was to be useful to the cause as a writer in -case his services were needed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span></p> - -<p>Law gave place to literature. Irving and J. K. -Paulding projected a paper, <i>Salmagundi</i>, to be -‘mainly characterized by a spirit of fun and sarcastic -drollery.’ William T. Irving joined in the -venture. The first number appeared on January -24, 1807. The editors issued it when they were -so minded, and after publishing twenty numbers, -brought it to an almost unceremonious close.</p> - -<p>The following year Peter and Washington Irving -began writing a burlesque account of their -native town, a parody on Mitchill’s <i>A Picture of -New York</i>. Peter was called to Liverpool to take -charge of the English interests of Irving and Smith, -and it fell to Washington to recast the chapters -already written and complete the narrative. The -book outgrew the design (as is the tendency of -parodies), and was published on December 6, 1809, -as <i>A History of New York from the Beginning of the -World to the End of the Dutch Dynasty, by Diedrich -Knickerbocker</i>. It was received by the New York -Historical Society, to whom it was dedicated, with -astonishment, and by the old Dutch families with -mingled emotions, among which that of exuberant -delight was not in every case the most prominent.</p> - -<p>For two years Irving conducted the ‘Analectic -Magazine,’ published in Philadelphia. During the -exciting months which followed the British attack -on Washington (August, 1814), he was military -secretary to the governor of New York. Being of -adventurous spirit, he welcomed with joy the prospect<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span> -of accompanying his friend Stephen Decatur -on the expedition to Algiers. Disappointed in this -and unable to get the fever of travel out of his -blood, he sailed for England (May, 1815), intending -nothing more than a visit to his brother in -Liverpool and to a married sister in Birmingham.</p> - -<p>Peter Irving had been ill, and in consequence -his affairs had fallen into disorder. Washington -undertook to disentangle them. He was unsuccessful. -To the intense mortification of the brothers -they were compelled to go into bankruptcy -(1818), and Washington began casting about for -a way to supplement his slender income. He -refused an advantageous offer at home, and determined -to remain in England. A literary project -had taken shape in his mind, and he proceeded to -carry it out.</p> - -<p>In May, 1819, Irving published the first part of -<i>The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon</i>, containing five -papers, one of which, ‘Rip Van Winkle,’ is a little -masterpiece. The attitude of the public towards -this venture convinced Irving that he might live -by the profession of letters. <i>The Sketch Book</i> was -followed by <i>Bracebridge Hall, or the Humorists</i> -(1822), and by the <i>Tales of a Traveller</i> (1824). -This last date marks a period in Irving’s literary -life.</p> - -<p>The years which Irving spent abroad had their -anxieties, their depressions, their dull days, their -long periods of drudgery. It is a temptation to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span> -dwell on their pleasures and their triumphs. Irving -was fortunate in his friendships. He knew -Scott, Campbell, Moore, and Jeffrey, and had the -amusement on one occasion of seeing his visiting -list revised by Rogers. He met Mrs. Siddons, -marvelled at Belzoni, was amused by the antics -of Lady Caroline Lamb, breakfasted at Holland -House, and visited Thomas Hope at his country -seat. In Paris he was presented to Talma by John -Howard Payne, ‘the young American Roscius of -former days,’ who had now ‘outgrown all tragic -symmetry.’ He became (in time) persona gratissima -to John Murray, his English publisher; and -to be dear to one’s publisher must always be accounted -among the great rewards of literature.</p> - -<p>At the instance of Alexander Everett, the -American Minister to Spain, Irving, in February, -1826, went to Madrid to translate Navarrete’s -forthcoming collection of documents relating to -Columbus. He presently abandoned the plan for -a more grateful task, the writing of an independent -account of the discovery of America, based -on Navarrete, and on ample materials supplied by -the library of Rich, the American consul at Madrid. -To this he devoted himself with immense energy. -The work was published in 1828, and was soon -followed by the <i>Conquest of Granada</i> and <i>Voyages -of the Companions of Columbus</i>.</p> - -<p>In 1829 Irving became Secretary of the American -Legation in London. The Royal Society of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span> -Literature voted him one of their fifty guinea gold -medals, in recognition of his services to the study -of history. The honor, distinguished in itself, -became doubly so to the recipient because the -other of the two awards for that year was bestowed -on Hallam. In June, 1830, the University of -Oxford conferred on Irving the degree of LL. D. -In April, 1832, he sailed for America. He had -been absent seventeen years.</p> - -<p>After travels in various parts of the United -States, including a long journey to the far West -with the commissioner to the Indian tribes, Irving -settled near Tarrytown. His home was a little -Dutch cottage ‘all made up of gable ends, and -as full of angles and corners as an old cocked -hat.’ Familiarly called ‘The Roost’ by its inmates, -this ‘doughty and valorous little pile’ is -known to the world as ‘Sunnyside.’ With the -exception of the four years (1842–46) he passed -in Spain as Minister Plenipotentiary, ‘Sunnyside’ -was Irving’s abiding-place until his death.</p> - -<p>His later writings are: <i>The Alhambra</i>, 1832; -<i>The Crayon Miscellany</i> (comprising <i>A Tour on the -Prairies</i>, <i>Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey</i>, and -<i>Legends of the Conquest of Spain</i>), 1835; <i>Astoria</i> -(with Pierre M. Irving), 1836; <i>Adventures of -Captain Bonneville, U. S. A.</i> (edited), 1837; <i>Life -of Goldsmith</i>, 1849; <i>Mahomet and his Successors</i>, -1849–50; <i>The Chronicles of Wolfert’s Roost</i>, 1855; -<i>The Life of Washington</i>, 1855–59.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span></p> - -<p>Attempts were made to draw Irving into political -life. He was offered a nomination for Congress; -Tammany Hall ‘unanimously and vociferously’ -declared him its candidate for mayor of New York; -and President Van Buren would have made him -Secretary of the Navy. All these honors he felt -himself obliged to refuse. He accepted the Spanish -mission (offered by President Tyler at the -instance of his Secretary of State, Daniel Webster), -because he believed himself not wholly unfitted -for the charge, and because it honored in him the -profession of letters.</p> - -<p>Irving’s intellectual powers were at perfect command -up to the beginning of the last year of his -life. Then his health began to fail markedly, and -the final volume of his <i>Washington</i> cost him effort -he could ill afford. He died suddenly on November -28, 1859, and was buried in the cemetery at -Sleepy Hollow.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_2">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">IRVING’S CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Irving</span> was broad-minded, tolerant, amiable, incapable -of envy, quick to forget an affront, and -always willing to think the best of humanity. His -tactfulness was due in part to his large experience -of life, but more to the possession of a nature that -was sweet, serene, frank, and unsophisticated. For<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span> -Irving was no courtier; he could as little flatter -as practise the more odious forms of deceit. His -gifts of irony and ridicule, supplemented with -an extraordinary power of humorous delineation, -were never abused. It might be said of him, as -of another great satirist, that ‘he never inflicted a -wound.’</p> - -<p>His modesty was excessive. It is impossible to -find in his writings or his correspondence any hint -that he was inclined to put unusual value on his -work. Grateful as he was for praise, it would never -have occurred to him that he had a right to it. -With all his knowledge of the world he was singularly -diffident. Moore hit off this trait when he -said that Geoffrey Crayon was ‘not strong as a -lion, but delightful as a domestic animal.’</p> - -<p>Not his least admirable virtue was a spirit of -helpfulness where his brother authors were concerned. -Irving was ‘officious’ in the good old -sense of the word, glad to be of service to his fellows, -untiring in efforts to promote their welfare. -He could praise their work, too, without disheartening -qualifications. The good he enjoyed, the -bad he put to one side. And he never forgot a -kindness. A publisher who had once befriended -him, though fallen on evil days, found himself still -able to command some of Irving’s best manuscripts.</p> - -<p>Criticism never angered Irving. Personal attacks -(of which he had his share) were suffered with quiet<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span> -dignity. He rarely defended himself, and then only -when the attack was outrageous. He could speak -pointedly if the need were. His reply to William -Leggett, who accused him in ‘The Plain Dealer’ -of ‘literary pusillanimity’ and double dealing, is -a model of effectiveness. One paragraph will show -its quality. Imputing no malevolence to Leggett, -who doubtless acted from honest feelings hastily -excited by a misapprehension of the facts, Irving -says: ‘You have been a little too eager to give an -instance of that “plain dealing” which you have -recently adopted as your war-cry. Plain dealing, -sir, is a great merit when accompanied by magnanimity, -and exercised with a just and generous -spirit; but if pushed too far, and made the excuse -for indulging every impulse of passion or -prejudice, it may render a man, especially in your -situation, a very offensive, if not a very mischievous -member of the community.’</p> - -<p>Something may be known of a man by observing -his attitude at the approach of old age. Irving’s -beautiful serenity was characteristic. People were -kind to him, but he thought their kindness extraordinary. -He wondered whether old gentlemen were -becoming fashionable.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_3">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE WRITER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Irving’s</span> prose is distinguished for grace and sweetness. -It is unostentatious, natural, easy. At its -best it comes near to being a model of good prose. -The most striking effects are produced by the simplest -means. Never does the writer appear to be -searching for an out-of-the-way term. He accepts -what lies at hand. The word in question is almost -obvious and often conventional, but invariably apt.</p> - -<p>For a writer who produced so much the style is -remarkably homogeneous. It is an exaggeration to -speak of it as overcharged with color. There are -passages of much splendor, but Irving’s taste was -too refined to admit of his indulging in rhetorical -excesses. Nor is the style quite so mellifluous as -it seemed to J. W. Croker, who said: ‘I can no -more go on all day with one of his [Irving’s] -books than I could go on all day sucking a sugar-plum.’ -The truth is that Irving is one of the -most human and companionable of writers, and his -English is just the sort to prompt one to go on all -day with him.</p> - -<p>Yet there is a want of ruggedness, the style is almost -too perfectly controlled. It lacks the strength -and energy born of deep thought and passionate -conviction, and it must be praised (as it may be -without reserve) for urbanity and masculine grace.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_4">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead">EARLY WORK</span> - -<span class="subhead"><i>KNICKERBOCKER’S HISTORY</i>, <i>SKETCH BOOK</i>, -<i>BRACEBRIDGE HALL</i>, <i>TALES OF A TRAVELLER</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> dignified appearance of Diedrich Knickerbocker’s -learned work, the quiet simplicity of the -principal title, and the sober dedication gave no -hint to the serious-minded that they were buying -one of the most extraordinary books of humor in -the English language. The deception could not -last long, but it is to be hoped that on the day -of publication some honest seeker after knowledge -took a copy home with the intent to profit at once -by its stores of erudition.</p> - -<p>On a basis of historical truth Irving reared a delightfully -grotesque historical edifice. The method -is analogous to that children employ when they -put a candle on the floor that they may laugh at -the odd shadows of themselves cast on wall and -ceiling. The figures are monstrous, distorted, yet -always resembling. Nothing could be at once -more lifelike and more unreal than Irving’s account -of New Amsterdam and its people under -the three Dutch governors.</p> - -<p>Here is a world of amusement to be had for the -asking. One reader will enjoy the ironical philosophy, -another the sly thrusts at current politics,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span> -a third the boisterous fun of certain episodes, -such as the fight between stout Risingh and Peter -Stuyvesant, the hint of which may have been -caught from Fielding’s account of how Molly Seagrim -valorously put her enemies to flight. But the -book will always be most cherished for its quaint -pictures of snug and drowsy comfort, for its world -of broad-bottomed burghers, amphibious housewives, -and demure Dutch damsels wooed by inarticulate -lovers smoking long pipes, and for the -rich Indian summer atmosphere with which the -poet-humorist invested the scenes of a not wholly -idyllic past.</p> - -<p><i>The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon</i> is in one respect -well named; it has the heterogeneous character -that we associate with an artist’s portfolio. -Notes of travel, stories, meditations, and portraits -are thrown together in pleasant disorder. A paper -on ‘Roscoe’ is followed by the sketch entitled -‘The Wife,’ and the history of ‘Rip Van Winkle’ -is succeeded by an essay on the attitude of English -writers towards America. In another sense the -volume is not a mere sketch-book, for each sketch -is a highly finished picture. Here is often a self-consciousness -radically unlike the abandon of the -<i>History of New York</i>. At times Irving falls quite -into the ‘Keepsake’ manner. A faint aroma as of -withered rose leaves steals from the pages, a languid -atmosphere of sweet melancholy dear to the -early Nineteenth Century.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span></p> - -<p>Other pages are breezy enough. The five chapters -on Christmas at Bracebridge Hall, the essay -on ‘Little Britain,’ on the ‘Mutability of Literature,’ -and that on ‘John Bull’ are emphatically -not in the ‘Keepsake’ vein. Of themselves they -would have sufficed to redeem <i>The Sketch Book</i> -from the worst charge that can be brought against -a piece of literature,—the charge of being merely -fashionable. But the extraordinary vitality which -this book has enjoyed for eighty-five years it owes -in the main to ‘Rip Van Winkle’ and ‘The Legend -of Sleepy Hollow.’ Written in small form, -embodying simple incidents, saturated with humor, -classic in their conciseness of style, these stories are -faultless examples of Irving’s art.</p> - -<p>Irving dearly loved a lovable vagabond, and -Rip is his ideal. The story is told in a succession -of pictures. The reader visualizes scenery, character, -incident, the purple mountains, the village -nestling at their feet, the ne’er-do-weel whom -children love, the termagant wife, the junto before -the inn door, the journey into the mountains, the -strange little beings at their solemn game, the -draught of the fatal liquor, the sleep, the awakening, -the return home, the bewilderment, the recognition,—do -we not know it by heart? Have we -not read the narrative a hundred times, trying in -vain to penetrate the secret of its perfection? -Something of the logic of poetry went into the -creation of this idyl. We are left with the feeling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span> -that Irving himself could not have changed a -word for the better.</p> - -<p>‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’ is etched with -a deeper stroke, is broader, more farcical. There -is no pathos, but downright fun and frolic from -the first line to the last. The audacious exaggeration -of every feature in the portrait of Ichabod -Crane is inimitably clever. The schoolmaster gets -no pity and needs none. And the reader is justified -in his unsympathetic attitude when later he -learns that Ichabod, instead of having been carried -off by the headless Hessian, merely changed -his quarters, and when last heard of had studied -law, written for the newspapers, and gone into -politics.</p> - -<p>In <i>Bracebridge Hall</i> Geoffrey Crayon returns -to the English country house where he had spent -a Christmas, to enjoy at leisure old manners, old -customs, old-world ideas and people. Never were -simpler materials used in the making of a book; -never was a more entertaining book compounded -of such simple materials. The incidents are of the -most quiet sort, a walk, a dinner, a visit to a neighboring -grange or to a camp of gypsies, a reading -in the library or the telling of a story after dinner. -The philosophy is naïve, but the humor is exquisite -and unflagging.</p> - -<p>The reader meets his old friends, the Squire, -Master Simon, old Christy, and the Oxonian. -New characters are introduced, Lady Lillycraft<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span> -and General Harbottle, Ready-money Jack, -Slingsby the schoolmaster, and the Radical who -reads Cobbett, and goes armed with pamphlets -and arguments. Among them all none is more -attractive than the Squire. With his scorn of -commercialism, his love of ancient customs, his -good-humored tolerance of gypsies and poachers, -with his body of maxims from Peacham and other -old writers, and his amusing contempt for Lord -Chesterfield—these and other delightful traits -make Mr. Bracebridge one of the most ingratiating -characters in fiction.</p> - -<p><i>Bracebridge Hall</i> contains interpolated stories, -the ‘Stout Gentleman,’ the ‘Student of Salamanca,’ -and the finely finished tale of ‘Annette Delabarre.’ -The papers of Diedrich Knickerbocker are not -yet exhausted; having furnished Rip and Ichabod -to <i>The Sketch Book</i> they now contribute to <i>Bracebridge -Hall</i> the story of ‘Dolph Heyliger.’</p> - -<p>The <i>Tales of a Traveller</i>, a medley of episodes -and sketches, is divided into four parts. In the -first part the Nervous Gentleman of Bracebridge -Hall continues his narrations. These adventures, -supposed to have been told at a hunt dinner, or -at breakfast the following morning, are intertwined, -Arabian Nights fashion, story within story. They -are grotesque (the ‘Bold Dragoon,’ with the -richly humorous account of the dance of the furniture), -or weird and ghastly (the ‘German Student’), -or romantic (the ‘Young Italian’).</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span></p> - -<p>The second part, ‘Buckthorne and his Friends,’ -displays the seamy side of English dramatic and -literary life. Modern realism had not yet been -invented, and it is easy to laugh over the sorrows -of Flimsy, who, in his coat of Lord Townley cut -and dingy-white stockinet pantaloons, bears a -closer relation to Mr. Vincent Crummles than to -any one of the characters of <i>A Mummer’s Wife</i>.</p> - -<p>Part third, the ‘Italian Banditti,’ is in a style -which no longer interests, though many worse -written narratives do. But in the last part, ‘The -Money-Diggers,’ Irving comes back to his own. -He is again wandering along the shores of the -pleasant island of Mannahatta, fishing at Hellegat, -lying under the trees at Corlear Hook while -a Cape Cod whaler tells the story of ‘The Devil -and Tom Walker.’ Ramm Rapelye fills his chair -at the club and smokes and grunts, ever maintaining -a mastiff-like gravity. Once more we see the -little old city which had not entirely lost its picturesque -Dutch features. Here stands Wolfert -Webber’s house, with its gable end of yellow -brick turned toward the street. ‘The gigantic sunflowers -loll their broad jolly faces over the fences, -seeming to ogle most affectionately the passers-by.’ -Dirk Waldron, ‘the son of four fathers,’ sits -in Webber’s kitchen, feasting his eyes on the opulent -charms of Amy. He says nothing, but at -intervals fills the old cabbage-grower’s pipe, strokes -the tortoise-shell cat, or replenishes the teapot<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span> -from the bright copper kettle singing before the -fire. ‘All these quiet little offices may seem of -trifling import; but when true love is translated -into Low Dutch, it is in this way it eloquently -expresses itself.’</p> - -<p>Had Irving’s reputation depended on the four -books just now characterized, it would have been -a great reputation and the note of originality precisely -what we now find it. But there was need -of work in other fields to show the catholicity of -his interests and the range of his powers.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_5">V<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HISTORICAL WRITINGS</span> - -<span class="subhead"><i>COLUMBUS</i>, <i>CONQUEST OF GRANADA</i>, -<i>MAHOMET</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> <i>Life and Voyages of Columbus</i> is written in -the spirit of tempered hero-worship. It is free -from the extravagance of partisans who make a -god of Columbus, and from the skeptical cavillings -of those who apparently are not unwilling -to rob the great explorer of any claim he may -possess to virtue or ability. As Irving conceives -him, Columbus is a many-sided man, infinitely -patient when patience is required, doggedly obstinate -if the need be, crafty or open, daring in the -highest degree, having that audacity which seems<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span> -to quell the powers of nature, yet devout, with a -touch of the superstition characteristic of his time -and his belief.</p> - -<p>On many questions, fine points of ethnography, -geography, navigation and the like, Irving neither -could nor did he presume to speak finally. History -has to be rewritten every few years wherever -these questions are involved. But the letters of -Columbus, the testimony of his contemporaries, -the reports of friend and enemy, throw an unchanging -light on character. The march of science -can neither dim nor augment that light. Irving -was emphatically a judge of human nature. He -needed no help in making up his mind what sort -of man Columbus was. Modern scholars with -their magnificent scientific equipment sometimes -forget that cartography, invaluable though it is, is -after all a poor guide to character. And yet, by the -testimony of one of those same modern scholars, -Irving’s life of the Admiral, as a trustworthy and -popular résumé, is still the best.</p> - -<p>One often wishes Irving had been less temperate. -The barbarous tyranny of the Spaniards over -the Indians of Hispaniola stirs the reader to deepest -indignation. He longs for such treatment of -the theme as Carlyle might possibly have given. -Here is need of thunderbolts of wrath like unto -those wielded by the Jupiter Tonans of history. -But taken as a whole, the book has extraordinary -virtues. It is a clear, full, well-ordered, picturesque,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span> -and readable narrative of the great explorer’s -career. There is no better, nor is there likely to -be a better. He who has time to read but one book -on the discoverer of America will not go amiss in -reading this one. He who proposes to read many -books on the subject may well elect to read Irving’s -first.</p> - -<p>The supplementary <i>Voyages of the Companions of -Columbus</i> narrates the adventures of Ojeda, that -dare-devil of the high seas, of Nicuesa, of Vasco -Nuñez, of Ponce de Leon. Though wanting the -unity of the preceding volumes, these narratives -are of high interest, and for vigor, animation, and -picturesqueness must rank among the most attractive -examples of Irving’s work.</p> - -<p>While making collateral studies bearing on the -life of Columbus, Irving became so captivated with -the romantic and chivalrous story of the fall of -Granada that he found himself unable to complete -his more sober task until he had sketched a rough -outline of the new book. When the <i>Columbus</i> was -sent to the press, Irving made a tour of Andalusia, -visited certain memorable scenes of the war, and -on his return to Seville elaborated his sketch -into the ornate and glowing picture known as <i>A -Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada, by Fray Antonio -Agapida</i>.</p> - -<p>The book is commonly described as romance -rather than history. It was written with a view to -rescuing the ancient chronicle of the conquest from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span> -the mass of amatory and sentimental tradition with -which it was incrusted, and of presenting it in its -legitimate brilliancy. Irving believed, too, that the -world had forgotten or had failed to realize how -stern the conflict was. In the fifteenth century it -was regarded as a Holy War. Christian bigot was -arrayed against Moslem bigot. Atrocities of the -blackest sort were perpetrated and justified in the -name of religion. The title-page says that the narrative -is taken from the manuscript of one Fray -Antonio Agapida. The brother is an imaginary -character, a personification of monkish zeal and intolerance. -When the slaughter of the infidels has -been unusually great, Fray Antonio makes his appearance, -like the ‘chorus’ of a play, and thanks -God with much unction. Through this mouth-piece -Irving gives ironical voice to that sentiment -it is impossible not to feel in contemplating the -barbarities of a ‘holy’ war. A few readers were -disturbed by the fiction of the old monk. They -ought to have liked him. He is an amusing personage -and comes too seldom on the stage.</p> - -<p>The <i>Life of Mahomet and his Successors</i> has been -spoken of as ‘comparatively a failure.’ If a book -which sums up the available knowledge of the -time on the subject, which is written in clear, pure -English, which is throughout of high interest, in -other words, which has solidity, beauty, and a large -measure of the literary quality—if such a book is -comparatively a failure, one hardly knows what can<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span> -be the critic’s standard of measurement. Irving -was not acquainted with Arabic. He drew his -materials from Spanish and German sources. Yet -it is not too much to say that no better general -account of Mahomet and the early caliphs has been -written.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_6">VI<br /> - -<span class="subhead">SPANISH ROMANCE</span> - -<span class="subhead"><i>THE ALHAMBRA</i>, <i>LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST -OF SPAIN</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">For</span> three or four months Irving lived in the ancient -Moorish palace and fortress known as the -Alhambra. In his own phrase he ‘succeeded to -the throne of Boabdil.’ The place charmed him -beyond all others in the Old World. His craving -for antiquity, his love of the exotic, his passion for -romance, his delight in day-dreaming were here -completely satisfied. He loved the huge pile, so -rough and forbidding without, so graceful and -attractive within. The splendor of its storied past -intoxicated him. He roamed at will through its -courts and halls, steeping himself in history and -tradition. He was amused at the life of the petty -human creatures, nesting bird-like in the crannies -and nooks of the vast edifice. To observe their -habits, record their superstitious fancies, listen to -their tales, sympathize with their ambitions or their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span> -sorrows, was occupation enough. The history of -the place could be studied in the parchment-clad -folios of the Jesuit library. As for the legends, they -abounded everywhere. The scattered leaves were -then brought together in the volume called <i>Tales -of the Alhambra</i>.</p> - -<p>It is a Spanish arabesque. No book displays -to better advantage the wayward charm of Irving’s -literary genius. Whether recounting old stories -of buried Moorish gold and Arabian necromancy, -or describing the loves of Manuel and bright-eyed -Dolores, or extolling the grace and intelligence of -Carmen, he is equally happy. There was a needy -and shiftless denizen of the place, one Mateo -Ximenes, who captured Irving’s heart by describing -himself as ‘a son of the Alhambra.’ A ribbon-weaver -by trade and an idler by choice, he -attached himself to the newcomer and refused to -be shaken off. If it was impossible to be rid of -him, it was equally impossible not to like him. -Life was a prolonged holiday for Mateo during -Geoffrey Crayon’s residence. Whatever obligations -he had, of a domestic or a business nature, -were joyfully set aside that he might wait upon -the visitor. He became Irving’s ‘prime-minister -and historiographer-royal,’ doing his errands, -aiding in his explorations, and between times unfolding -his accumulated treasures of legend and -tradition. He was flattered by the credence given -his stories, and when the reign of el rey Chico the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> -second came to an end, no one lamented more -than Mateo, left now ‘to his old brown cloak, and -his starveling mystery of ribbon-weaving.’</p> - -<p>Though not published until after Irving’s return -to America, <i>The Legends of the Conquest of -Spain</i> is a part of the harvest of this same period. -The book describes the decline of the Gothic -power under Witiza and Roderick, the treason of -Count Julian, the coming of the Arabians under -Taric and Muza, and the downfall of Christian -supremacy in the Spanish peninsula. Irving was -a magician in handling words, and this volume is -rich in proof of it. Here may be found passages -of the utmost brilliancy, such as the description of -Roderick’s assault upon the necromantic tower of -Hercules, and the opening of the golden casket.</p> - -<p>The <i>Legends</i> serves a double purpose. As a -book of entertainment pure and simple it is unsurpassed. -It is also a spur to the reader to make -his way into wider fields, and to learn yet more of -that people whose history could give rise to these -beautiful illustrations of chivalry and courage.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_7">VII<br /> - -<span class="subhead">AMERICAN HISTORY AND TRAVEL</span> - -<span class="subhead"><i>A TOUR ON THE PRAIRIES</i>, <i>ASTORIA</i>, <i>LIFE OF -WASHINGTON</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> list of Irving’s writings between 1835 and -1855 comprises eight titles. Two of these books -have been commented on. The others may be -despatched in a paragraph, as the old reviewers -used to say.</p> - -<p><i>Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey</i> is an aftermath -of the English harvest of impressions and experiences. -The <i>Life of Goldsmith</i>, based originally on -Prior’s useful but heavy work, and rewritten when -Forster’s book appeared, is accounted one of the -most graceful of literary biographies. <i>Wolfert’s -Roost</i> is a medley of delightful papers on birds, -Indians, old Dutch villages, and modern American -adventurers, together with a handful of Spanish -stories and legends.</p> - -<p>There is a group of three books dealing with -American frontier life and western exploration. -The first of these, <i>A Tour on the Prairies</i>, shows -how readily the trained man of letters can turn -his hand to any subject. Who would have thought -that the prose poet of the Alhambra was also able -to do justice to the trapper and the Pawnee? -<i>Astoria</i> (the first draft of which was made by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span> -Pierre M. Irving) is an account of John Jacob -Astor’s commercial enterprise in the Northwest. -Irving was amused when an English review pronounced -the book his masterpiece. He had really -taken a deeper interest in the work than he supposed -possible when Astor urged it upon him. -<i>Bonneville</i> in a manner supplements <i>Astoria</i>, and -was written from notes and journals furnished by -the hardy explorer whose name the book bears.</p> - -<p>It was fitting that Irving should crown the literary -labors of forty years with a life of Washington. -He had a deep veneration for the memory -of the great American. The theme was peculiarly -grateful to him. He seems to have regarded the -work as something more than a self-imposed and -pleasant literary task—it was a duty to which he -was in the highest degree committed, a duty at -once pious and patriotic. Though he had begun -early to ponder his subject, Irving was nearly seventy -when he commenced the actual writing; and -notwithstanding the book far outgrew the original -plan, he was able to bring it to a successful -conclusion.</p> - -<p>Three quarters of the first volume are devoted -to Washington’s history up to his thirty-second -year. It is a graphic account of the young student, -the surveyor, the envoy to the Indians, the captain -of militia. Irving shows how it is possible to -present the ‘real’ Washington without recourse -to exaggerated realism. The remainder of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span> -volume is given to an outline of the causes leading -to the Revolution, to the affair of Lexington -and Concord, the Battle of Bunker Hill, Washington’s -election to the post of commander-in-chief, -and the beginning of military operations -around Boston. The next three volumes are a -history of the Revolutionary War, with Washington -always the central figure. The fifth volume -covers Washington’s political life, and his last years -at Mount Vernon.</p> - -<p>Of two notable characteristics of this book, the -first is its extraordinary readableness. To be sure -the Revolution was a great event, and Irving was -a gifted writer. Nevertheless for a historian who -delights in movement, color, variety, the Revolutionary -War must often seem no better than a -desert of tedious fact relieved now and then by an -oasis of brilliant exploit. Irving complained of -the dulness of many parts of the theme. Notwithstanding -this he brought to the work so much -of his peculiar winsomeness that the <i>Washington</i> -is a book always to be taken up with pleasure and -laid down with regret.</p> - -<p>The second notable characteristic is the freedom -from extravagance either of praise or of blame. -The crime and the disgrace of Arnold do not color -adversely the historian’s view of what Arnold was -and did in 1776. No indignant partisan has told -with greater pathos the story of André. Nothing -could be more temperate than Irving’s attitude<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span> -towards the Tories, or, as it is now fashionable to -call them, the Loyalists of the American Revolution. -He could not deny sympathy to these unfortunates -who found themselves caught between -the upper and lower millstones, a people who in -many cases were unable to go over heart and soul -to the cause of the King, and who found it even -more difficult to espouse the cause of their own -countrymen. Even the enemies of Washington, -that is to say, the enemies of his own political and -military household, are treated with utmost fairness.</p> - -<p>For Washington himself, Irving has only admiration, -which, however, he is able to express without -fulsome panegyric. He dwells on the great -leader’s magnanimity, on his evenness of temper, -his infinite patience, his freedom from trace of -vanity, self-interest, or sectional prejudice, his confidence -in the justness of the cause, and his trust -in Providence, a trust which faltered least when -circumstances were most adverse. Irving admired -unstintedly the warrior who could hold in check -trained and seasoned European soldiers with ‘an -apparently undisciplined rabble,’ the ‘American -Fabius’ who, when the time was ripe, was found -to possess ‘enterprise as well as circumspection, -energy as well as endurance.’</p> - -<p>The personal side of the biography is not neglected, -but no emphasis is laid on particulars of -costume, manners, speech, what Washington ate -and drank, and said about his neighbors. Irving<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span> -could have had little sympathy with the modern -rage for knowing the size of a great man’s collar -and the number of his footgear. The passion for -such details is legitimate, but it is a passion which -needs to be firmly controlled. In brief, throughout -the work emphasis is laid where emphasis -belongs, on the character of Washington, who was -the soul of the Revolutionary War, and then on -the moral grandeur of that great struggle for -human rights.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>A historian of American literature says: ‘Irving -had no message.’ He was not indeed enslaved -by a theory literary or political; neither -was he passionate for some reform and convinced -that his particular reform was paramount. But he -who gave to the world a series of writings which, -in addition to being exquisite examples of literary -art, are instinct with humor, brotherly kindness, -and patriotism, can hardly be said not to have had -a message.</p> - -<p>Irving rendered an immense service to the biographical -study of history. Columbus, Mahomet, -the princes and warriors of the Holy War, are -made real to us. Nor is this all. His books help -to counteract that tendency of the times to make -history a recondite science. History cannot be -confined to the historians and erudite readers -alone. Said Freeman to his Oxford audience one -day: ‘Has anybody read the essay on Race and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> -Language in the third series of my Historical Essays? -It is very stiff reading, so perhaps nobody -has.’ And one suspects that Freeman rejoiced a -little to think it was ‘stiff reading.’</p> - -<p>Nevertheless the public insists on its right to -know the main facts. And as Leslie Stephen says, -‘the main facts are pretty well ascertained. Darnley -was blown up, whoever supplied the powder, -and the Spanish Armada certainly came somehow -to grief.’ That man of letters is a benefactor -who, like Irving, can give his audience the main -facts, expressed in terms which make history more -readable even than romance.</p> - -<p>Irving perfected the short story. His genius -was fecundative. Many a writer of gift and taste, -and at least one writer of genius, owes Irving a -debt which can be acknowledged but which cannot -be paid. Deriving much from his literary predecessors, -and gladly acknowledging the measure -of his obligation, Irving by the originality of his -work placed fresh obligations on those who came -after him.</p> - -<p>With his stories of Dutch life he conquered a -new domain. That these stories remain in their -first and untarnished beauty is due to Irving’s -rich humor and ‘golden style,’ and to that indescribable -quality of genius by which it lifts its -creations out of the local and provincial, and endows -them with a charm which all can understand -and enjoy.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_2" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="II">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>William Cullen Bryant</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>G. W. Curtis</b>: <i>The Life, Character, and Writings of -William Cullen Bryant</i>, Commemorative Address before the New -York Historical Society, 1878.</p> - -<p><b>Parke Godwin</b>: <i>A Biography of William Cullen Bryant</i>, -1883.</p> - -<p><b>John Bigelow</b>: <i>William Cullen Bryant</i>, ‘American Men -of Letters,’ 1890.</p> - -<p><b>W. A. Bradley</b>: <i>William Cullen Bryant</i>, ‘English Men -of Letters,’ 1905.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_8">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> author of ‘Thanatopsis’ was born at Cummington, -a village among the hills of western -Massachusetts, on November 3, 1794. Through -his father, Doctor Peter Bryant, a physician, he -traced his ancestry to Stephen Bryant, an early settler -at Duxbury; through his mother, Sarah Snell, -he had ‘a triple claim’ to ‘Mayflower’ origin.</p> - -<p>Doctor Bryant was a many-sided man. He collected -books, read poetry (Horace was his favorite), -wrote satirical verse, was a musician and something -of a mechanic. He was an ardent Federalist, a -member of the Massachusetts legislature for several<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span> -terms, and then of the senate. He possessed -in high degree the art of imparting knowledge. -Medical students thought themselves fortunate in -being allowed to study under his direction. Doctor -Bryant’s father and grandfather were both physicians, -and he hoped that his second-born (who -was named in honor of the Scottish practitioner, -William Cullen) would follow in the ancestral footsteps.</p> - -<p>Bryant began to make verses in his eighth year. -At ten he wrote an ‘address’ in heroic couplets, -which got into newspaper print. The boy used to -pray that he might write verses which would endure. -A political satire, <i>The Embargo or Sketches -of the Times</i>, ‘by a youth of thirteen,’ if not in -the nature of evidence that the prayer had been -answered, so delighted Doctor Bryant that he -printed it in a pamphlet (1808). A second issue -containing additional poems was brought out the -next year. To this the author put his name.</p> - -<p>Bryant was taught Greek by his uncle, the Reverend -Thomas Snell of Brookfield, and mathematics -by the Reverend Moses Hallock of Plainfield. He -entered the Sophomore class at Williams College -in October, 1810, and left the following May. He -was to have spent the two succeeding years at -Yale, but the plan had to be abandoned for want -of money. Some time during the summer of 1811 -‘Thanatopsis’ was written in its first form and -laid aside.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span></p> - -<p>The poet began reading law with Judge Samuel -Howe of Worthington, who once reproached his -pupil ‘for giving to Wordsworth’s <i>Lyrical Ballads</i> -time that belonged to Blackstone and Chitty.’ -He continued his studies under William Baylies of -Bridgewater, was admitted to the bar at Plymouth -in August, 1815, practised awhile at Plainfield, -and then removed to Great Barrington. The lines -‘To a Waterfowl’ were written the night of the -young lawyer’s arrival in Plainfield.</p> - -<p>He made progress in his profession and was -called to argue cases at New Haven and before -the supreme court at Boston. The intervals of -legal business were given to poetry. Bryant’s -father urged him to contribute to the new ‘North -American Review and Miscellaneous Journal,’ the -editor of which was an old friend. The young -lawyer-poet seeming indifferent to the suggestion, -Doctor Bryant carried with him to Boston two -pieces he had unearthed among his son’s papers, -namely, ‘Thanatopsis’ in its first form, and ‘A -Fragment’ now called ‘Inscription at the Entrance -of a Wood.’ Both were printed in the -‘Review’ for September, 1817. Other poems -followed, together with three prose essays (on -‘American Poetry,’ on ‘The Happy Temperament,’ -and on the use of ‘Trisyllabic Feet in Iambic -Verse’). He also contributed poems to ‘The -Idle Man,’ Richard Henry Dana’s magazine, and -the ‘United States Literary Gazette.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span></p> - -<p>In June, 1821, Bryant married Miss Frances -Fairchild of Great Barrington. In April of this -year he had been invited to give ‘the usual poetic -address’ before the Phi Beta Kappa Society at -Harvard. ‘The Ages’ was written for this occasion -and publicly read on August 30. At the instance -of his Boston friends, Bryant printed ‘The -Ages’ with seven other pieces in a little pamphlet -entitled <i>Poems</i>.</p> - -<p>Never in love with the law, the poet began to regard -it with aversion. He was intellectually restless -and took to play-writing. A farce, ‘The Heroes,’ -in ridicule of duelling, was sent to his friends, the -Sedgwicks, in New York, who admitted its merits -but doubted its chances of success on the stage, -Bryant, at the suggestion of Henry Sedgwick, -made two or three visits to the city in search -of congenial work. He thought he had found it -when he undertook to edit ‘The New York Review -and Athenæum Magazine,’ a periodical made -by amalgamating ‘The Atlantic Magazine’ with -the older ‘Literary Review.’ Bryant wrote to a -friend that it was a livelihood, ‘and a livelihood is -all I got from the law.’</p> - -<p>The editor of the ‘Review’ was active in various -ways. He studied the Romance languages, -gave a course of lectures on poetry before the -Athenæum Society (1825), and annual courses on -mythology before the National Academy of the -Arts of Design (1826–31). He was amused with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span> -New York life; Great Barrington had not been -amusing. He published verse and prose in his -own review and helped Sands and Verplanck edit -their annual, ‘The Talisman.’ Somewhat later he -edited <i>Tales of the Glauber Spa</i> (1832), the joint -work of Sands, Leggett, Paulding, Miss Sedgwick, -and himself.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">1</a></p> - -<p>The ‘Review’ suffered from changes in the -business management, and Bryant’s prospects became -gloomy. At this juncture (1826) he was -invited to act as assistant to William Coleman, -editor of the ‘New York Evening Post.’ In -1828 he became ‘a small proprietor in the establishment,’ -and when Coleman died (July, 1829) -Bryant assumed the post of editor-in-chief and -engaged as his assistant William Leggett, a young -New Yorker who had shown a marked ability in -conducting a weekly journal called ‘The Critic.’ -‘I like politics no better than you do’ (Bryant had -written to Dana), ‘but ... politics and a bellyfull -are better than poetry and starvation.’</p> - -<p>His theory of the journalist’s function is well -known. ‘He regarded himself as a trustee for the -public.’<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">2</a> Party was much, and Bryant was a strong -Democrat, but the people were greater than party.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span></p> - -<p>Bryant’s handling of public questions belongs to -political history. His lifelong fight against a protective -tariff, his defence of Jackson’s policy respecting -nullification and the United States Bank, -his maintenance of the right to discuss slavery as -freely as any other subject about which there is a difference -of opinion, his insistence that the question -of giving the franchise to negroes in the state of -New York be settled on its merits and as a local -matter with which neither Abolitionist nor slave-holder -had anything to do, his determined stand -against the annexation of Texas and enlargement -of the area of slavery, his position on a multitude -of questions which in his life as a public censor he -found it necessary to defend or to attack—are -fully set forth in the two biographies by his coadjutors.</p> - -<p>From 1856 Bryant acted with the Republican -party, giving his cordial support to Frémont and -to Lincoln. He was a presidential elector in 1861. -He advocated the election of Grant in 1868, and -again in 1872, the latter time reluctantly ‘as the -best thing attainable in the circumstances.’</p> - -<p>To secure the independence and detachment -that would enable him to judge measures fairly, -Bryant avoided intercourse with public men, kept -away from Washington, took no office, and was -otherwise singular. In this way he at least secured -a free pen. As to the tone of the comments on -men in public life, Bryant approved the theory of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span> -a brother editor who maintained that nothing -should be said which would make it impossible -for him who wrote and him who was written about -to meet at the same dinner-table the next day. It -is not pretended, however, that he was uniformly -controlled by this theory. What was the prevailing -idea of his journalistic manner may be known -from Felton’s review of <i>The Fountain</i>, in which he -marvels that these beautiful poems can be the work -of one ‘who deals with wrath, and dips his pen -daily in bitterness and hate....’</p> - -<p>Since 1821 no collection of Bryant’s verse had -been made. Then after ten years he gathered together -eighty-nine pieces, including the eight which -had appeared in the pamphlet of 1821, and issued -them as <i>Poems</i>, 1832. Through the friendly offices -of Irving the book was reprinted in England with -a dedicatory letter to Samuel Rogers. Notwithstanding -favorable notices, both English and American, -Bryant was despondent. ‘Poetic wares,’ he -said, ‘are not for the market of the present day -... mankind are occupied with politics, railroads, -and steamboats.’ But he found it necessary to reprint -the volume in 1834 (with additional poems), -and again in 1836.</p> - -<p>His work in prose and verse after 1839 includes -<i>The Fountain and Other Poems</i>, 1842; <i>The White-Footed -Deer and Other Poems</i>, 1844; <i>Poems</i>, 1847; -<i>Letters of a Traveller</i>, 1850; <i>Poems</i>, 1854; <i>Letters -from Spain</i>, 1859; <i>Thirty Poems</i>, 1864; <i>Letters<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span> -from the East</i>, 1869; <i>The Iliad of Homer, translated -into English blank verse</i>, 1870; <i>The Odyssey</i>, -1871–72; <i>Orations and Addresses</i>, 1873; <i>The Flood -of Tears</i>, 1878.</p> - -<p>The introduction to the <i>Library of Poetry and -Song</i> is from Bryant’s pen, as is also the preface -to E. A. Duyckinck’s (still unpublished) edition -of Shakespeare. His name appears as one of -the authors of <i>A Popular History of the United -States</i> (1876), together with that of Sydney Howard -Gay, on whom fell the burden of the actual -writing. It is unfortunate that no adequate reprint -of Bryant’s political leaders has been made. As -much ought to be done for him as Sedgwick did -for Leggett.</p> - -<p>Bryant found relief from the strain of editorial -work in foreign travel. He was abroad with his -family in 1834–36, visiting France, Italy, and Germany. -He did his sight-seeing deliberately, spending -a month in Rome, two months at Florence, -three months in Munich, and so on. He had been -four months at Heidelberg, when, says one of his -biographers (in phrases which he never learned -from Bryant), ‘His studious sojourn at this renowned -seat of learning was interrupted by intelligence -of the dangerous illness of his editorial -colleague,’ and he returned home. During a visit -to England in 1845 Bryant met Rogers, Moore, -Herschel, Hallam, and Spedding, heard one of his -own poems quoted at a Corn Law meeting, where<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span> -among the speakers were Cobden and Bright, and -carried a letter of introduction to Wordsworth -from Henry Crabb Robinson. He made yet other -journeys to Europe and to the East.</p> - -<p>Notable among Bryant’s public addresses were -the orations on Cooper (1852) and Irving (1860) -delivered before the New York Historical Society. -He was a founder and the third president of the -Century Association, first president of the New -York Homœopathic Society, president of the -American Free Trade League, and member of -literary and historical societies innumerable. He -held no public office, but as time went on it might -almost be said that an office was created for him—that -of Representative American. He seemed the -incarnation of virtues popularly supposed to have -survived from an older and simpler time. He was -a great public character. The word venerable acquired -a new meaning as one reflected on the career -of this eminent citizen who was born when Washington -was president, who as a boy had written -satires on Jefferson, and who as a man had discussed -political questions from the administration -of John Quincy Adams to that of Hayes. Other -men were as old as he, Bryant seemed to have lived -longer.</p> - -<p>‘And when at last he fell, he fell as the granite -column falls, smitten from without, but sound -within.’<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">3</a> His death was the result of an accident.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span> -He gave the address at the unveiling of the statue -of Mazzini in Central Park. Though wearied with -the exertion and almost overcome by the heat, he -was able to walk to the house of a friend. As he -was about entering the door he fell backward, -striking his head violently against the stone step. -He never recovered from the effects of this fall, -and died on June 12, 1878.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_9">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">BRYANT’S CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">We</span> seldom think of Bryant other than as he -appears in the Sarony photograph of 1873. With -the snowy beard, the furrowed brow, the sunken -but keen eyes, a cloak thrown about the shoulders, -he is the ideal poet of popular imagination. Thus -must he have looked when he wrote ‘The Flood -of Years,’ and it is difficult to realize that he did -not look thus when he wrote ‘Thanatopsis.’ We -do not readily picture Bryant as young or even -middle-aged.</p> - -<p>Parke Godwin saw him first about 1837. He -had a ‘wearied, almost saturnine expression of -countenance.’ He was spare in figure, of medium -height, clean shaven, and had an ‘unusually large -head.’ He spoke with decision, but could not be -called a copious talker. His voice was noticeably<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span> -sweet, his choice of words and accuracy of pronunciation -remarkable. When anything was said -to awaken mirth, his eyes gleamed with ‘a singular -radiance and a short, quick, staccato but hearty -laugh followed.’ He was more sociable when -his wife and daughters were present than at other -times. Bryant’s reserve was always a conspicuous -trait.</p> - -<p>Under that prim exterior lurked fire and passion. -‘In court he often lost his self-control.’ It -was thought that Bryant might keep a promise he -once made of thrashing a legal opponent within -an inch of his life (‘if he ever says that again’) -though the man was twice his size. Not long -after he became editor-in-chief of the ‘Post’ Bryant -cowhided a journalistic adversary who had bestowed -upon him by name, ‘the most insulting -epithet that can be applied to a human being.’<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">4</a> -It was the only time his well-schooled temper outwitted -him.</p> - -<p>His friendships were strong and abiding. He -had an inflexible will and a keen sense of justice, -so keen that it drove him out of the law. No -thought of personal ease or advantage could turn -him from a course he had mapped out as right.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span> -He was generous. His benefactions were many -and judicious, and the manner of their bestowal -as unpretending as possible.</p> - -<p>Bryant’s ‘unassailable dignity’ was a marked trait -of character. He refused an invitation to a dinner -given Charles Dickens by a ‘prominent citizen’ -of New York. ‘That man,’ said Bryant, ‘has -known me for years without asking me to his -house, and I am not going to be made a stool-pigeon -to attract birds of passage that may be -flying about.’</p> - -<p>He was perfectly simple-minded, incapable of -assuming the air of famous poet or successful man -of the world. Doubtless he relished praise, but he -had an adroit way of putting compliments to one -side, tempering the gratitude he really felt with an -ironical humor.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_10">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE LITERARY CRAFTSMAN</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Bryant</span> was a deliberate and fastidious writer. -His literary executors could never have said of -him that they found ‘neither blot nor erasure -among his papers.’ His copy, written on the -backs of old letters or rejected manuscripts, was a -wilderness of interlineations and corrections, and -often hard to decipher.</p> - -<p>Famous as he was for correctness, it seems a mere<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span> -debauch of eulogy to affirm that all of Bryant’s -contributions to the ‘Evening Post’ do not contain -‘as many erroneous or defective forms of expression’ -as ‘can be found in the first ten numbers of -the <i>Spectator</i>.’ But there is little danger of overestimating -his influence on the English of journalism -during the forty years and more that he set the -example of a high standard of daily writing. He -was sparing of advice, though in earlier days he -could not always conquer the temptation to amuse -himself over the English of his brother editors.<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">5</a> It -has been denied that he had any part in compiling -the famous ‘index expurgatorius,’ but it is not -unreasonable to suppose that this list, embodying -traditions of the editorial office, had his approval. -Bryant was for directness and precision in -writing. Ideas must stand on their merits, if they -have them, for such phrasing will define them -perfectly.</p> - -<p>His prose style may be studied in his books of -travel and his addresses. The literary characteristic -of <i>Letters of a Traveller</i> and its companion volumes -is excessive plainness, a homely quality like that -of a village pedagogue careful not to make mistakes. -One is often reminded of the honest home-spun<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span> -prose of Henry Wansey’s <i>Excursion to the -United States</i>.</p> - -<p>Turning to the volume of <i>Orations and Addresses</i>, -the reader finds himself in another world. Bryant’s -memorial orations are among the best of their kind, -stately, uplifting, and at times even majestic. They -belong to a type of composition which lies midway -between oratory and literature and unites certain -characteristics of each. Written primarily to be -heard, and adapted to public utterance, they are -also meant to be read. They must stand the test -of the ear and then that of the eye. The listener -must find his account in them as they come from -the lips of the orator, and he who afterward turns at -leisure the pages of the printed report must be satisfied. -Bryant’s speeches are markedly ‘literary;’ -and though oratorical they are wholly free from -bombast. Poet though he was, he built no cloud-capped -towers of rhetoric.</p> - -<p>Coming now to his verse, we find that his poetic -flights, though lofty, were neither frequent nor long -continued. Apparently he was incapable of writing -much or often. This seems true even after allowance -is made for his busy and exacting life as a -journalist. For years together he composed but a -few lines in each year.</p> - -<p>His theory fitted his own limitations. Bryant -maintained that there is no such thing as a long -poem, that what are commonly called long poems -are in reality a succession of short poems united<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span> -by poetical links. The paradox grows out of the -vagueness attaching to the words ‘length’ and -‘poem.’ Exactly what a poem is, we shall never -know. That is a shadowy line which divides poetry -from verse. And there is no term so unmeaning -as length. When does a poem begin to be long—is -it when the poet has achieved a hundred verses -or a thousand, when he has written six cantos or -twelve?</p> - -<p>To say, as Bryant is reported to have said, that -‘a long poem is no more conceivable than a long -ecstasy,’ is to make all poetry dependent on an -ecstatic condition. And it reduces all poetic temperaments -to the same level. Why may not poetry -be an outcome of ‘the true enthusiasm that burns -long’?</p> - -<p>Bryant showed skill in handling a variety of -metrical forms; it is unsafe to say that he excelled -only in blank verse. With declared partisanship -for the short poem, he nevertheless did not cultivate -the sonnet. Up to the time he was fifty-eight years -of age he had written but twelve, and for some of -these he apologized, saying, ‘they are rather poems -in fourteen lines than sonnets.’</p> - -<p>Comparing the length of his life with the slenderness -of his poetical product, we are tempted to -bring against this eminent man the charge of wilful -unproductiveness. This reluctance, or inertia, -or whatever it may be called, has helped to give -the impression of a lack of spontaneity. We are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span> -aware of the effort through the very exactness -with which the thing has been done. Bryant resembled -certain pianists who plead as excuse for -not playing, a lack of recent practice. When after -repeated urgings one of the reluctant brotherhood -‘consents to favor us,’ he plays with precision -enough but rarely with abandon. The conscious -and over-solicitous artist shows in every note.</p> - -<p>If much writing has its drawbacks, it also has its -value. And the poet who sings frequently cannot -offer as a reason for not performing, the excuse that -his lyre has not been out of the case for weeks, and -that in all probability a string is broken.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_11">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE POET</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> fine stanzas entitled ‘The Poet’ contain -Bryant’s theory of his art. The framing of a -deathless poem is not the pastime of a drowsy -summer’s day.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">No smooth array of phrase,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Artfully sought and ordered though it be,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Which the cold rhymer lays</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Upon his page with languid industry,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Can wake the listless pulse to livelier speed,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Or fill with sudden tears the eyes that read.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The secret wouldst thou know</div> - <div class="verse indent2">To touch the heart or fire the blood at will?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Let thine own eyes o’erflow;</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Let thy lips quiver with the passionate thrill;</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span> - <div class="verse indent0">Seize the great thought, ere yet its power be past,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And bind, in words, the fleet emotion fast.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Yet let no empty gust</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Of passion find an utterance in thy lay,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A blast that whirls the dust</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Along the howling street and dies away;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But feelings of calm power and mighty sweep,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Like currents journeying through the windless deep.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>This is flat contradiction of the idea that entirely -self-conscious and self-controlled art can -avail to move the reader. Bryant pleads for deepest -feeling in exercise of the poetic function; it is -more than important, it is indispensable. Of that -striking poem ‘The Tides,’ he said ‘it was written -with a certain awe upon me which made me -hope that there might be something in it.’ The -poem proved to be one of Bryant’s noblest conceptions. -Yet a lady of ‘judgment’ told one of -Bryant’s friends, who of course told him, that she -did not think there was much in it.</p> - -<p>Nature appeals to Bryant in her broad and -massive aspects. ‘The Prairies’ is an illustration. -Gazing on the ‘encircling vastness’ for the first -time, the heart swells and the eye dilates in an -effort to comprehend <span class="locked">it:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent14">Lo! they stretch,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In airy undulations, far away,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">As if the ocean, in his gentlest swell,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Stood still, with all his rounded billows fixed,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And motionless forever.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>As the poet looks abroad over the vast and -glowing fields, there sweeps by him a vision of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span> -races that have peopled these solitudes and perished -to make room for races to come. It is magnificent -even if it is not scientific. In the sense it -gives of the spaciousness of the prairies with the -myriad sounds of life projected on the great elemental -silence, it is a true American poem.</p> - -<p>‘A Hymn of the Sea’ is another illustration of -that largeness of view characteristic of Bryant. -Each thought is lofty and far-reaching. The cloud -that rises from the ‘realm of rain’ shadows whole -countries, the tornado wrecks a fleet, whirling the -vast hulks ‘like chaff upon the <span class="locked">waves:’—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">These restless surges eat away the shores</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of earth’s old continents; the fertile plain</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Welters in shallows, headlands crumble down,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And the tide drifts the sea-sand in the streets</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of the drowned city.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He conveys the idea not only of spaciousness -but of endless duration in the lines describing the -coral worm laying his ‘mighty reefs,’ toiling from -‘age to age’ until</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">His bulwarks overtop the brine, and check</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The long wave rolling from the southern pole</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To break upon Japan.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Certain lines in ‘A Forest Hymn’ are also remarkable -for the sense they give of vast reaches -of time, stretching not forward but backward into -<span class="locked">eternity:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent22">These lofty trees</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Wave not less proudly that their ancestors</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Moulder beneath them. Oh, there is not lost</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span> - <div class="verse indent0">One of earth’s charms: upon her bosom yet,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">After the flight of untold centuries,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The freshness of her far beginning lies</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And yet shall lie.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The ‘Song of the Stars,’ though not one of -Bryant’s happiest poems,—the hypercritical reader -feeling that the ‘orbs of beauty’ and ‘spheres of -flame’ might have made a more appropriate metrical -choice for their song,—shows none the less -the poet’s strength in dealing with nature in the -large. The lines ‘To a Waterfowl’ are magical -in part by virtue of the impression they make of -immense distance. With the poet’s penetrating -vision we can see the solitary way through the -rosy depths, the pathless coast, and the one bit -of life in</p> - -<p class="center"> -The desert and illimitable air.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Bryant’s mind readily lifts itself from the minute -to the massive, as in the poem ‘Summer Wind,’ -a fine example of the crescendo effects he knew -so well how to produce. In a few lines he gives -the sensation of heat, closeness, exhaustion, and -pictures the plants drooping in a stillness broken -only by the ‘faint and interrupted murmur of the -bee.’ His thought then sweeps upward to the -wooded hills towering in scorching heat and dazzling -light, and then still higher to the bright -clouds,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Motionless pillars of the brazen heaven—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Their bases on the mountains—their white tops</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Shining in the far ether....</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span></p> -<p>The poet never wearies of this majestic pageantry -of the natural world. In ‘The Firmament,’ -in ‘The Hurricane’ (imitated from Heredia), -in ‘Monument Mountain,’ his chief thought is to -translate the reader to his own lofty vantage-ground.</p> - -<p>But Nature is not merely a spectacle, it has a -power to heal and invigorate. Life loses its pettiness -when one leaves the city and seeks the forest. -The holy men who hid themselves ‘deep in -the woody wilderness’ perhaps did not <span class="locked">well—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">But let me often to these solitudes</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Retire, and in thy presence reassure</div> - <div class="verse indent0">My feeble virtue. Here its enemies,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And tremble and are still.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="in0">The poet finds inspiration not alone in the terror -of the storm, the majesty of the forest, the gray -waste of ocean, the mystery of the night of stars, -but in the humbler things, the rivulet by which -he played as a child, the violet growing on its -bank, the hum of bees, the notes of hang-bird and -wren, the gossip of swallows, and the gay chirp -of the ground squirrel. ‘The Yellow Violet’ -and the lines ‘To the Fringed Gentian’ spring -from this love of the unobtrusive charms of Nature. -Less familiar than these, but a faultless example -of Bryant’s art, is ‘The Painted <span class="locked">Cup:’—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent26">... tell me not</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That these bright chalices were tinted thus</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To hold the dew for fairies, when they meet</div> - <div class="verse indent0">On moonlight evenings in the hazel bowers,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And dance till they are thirsty.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span></p> -<p>The poet will not call up ‘faded fancies of an -‘elder world.’ If the fresh savannahs must be -peopled with creatures of imagination, it may be -done without borrowing European <span class="locked">elves:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Let then the gentle Manitou of flowers,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Lingering among the bloomy waste he loves,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Though all his swarthy worshippers are gone—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Slender and small, his rounded cheek all brown</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And ruddy with the sunshine; let him come</div> - <div class="verse indent0">On summer mornings, when the blossoms wake,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And part with little hands the spiky grass,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And touching, with his cherry lips, the edge</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of these bright beakers, drain the gathered dew.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Bryant wrote poems of freedom. The earlier -of these, ‘The Song of the Greek Amazon,’ the -‘Massacre at Scio,’ the ‘Greek Partisan,’ and -‘Italy,’ voice his sympathy with the oppressed nations -of the Old World, the ‘struggling multitude -of states,’ that ‘writhe in shackles.’</p> - -<p>Among his later poems on the same theme, -‘Earth,’ ‘The Winds,’ ‘The Antiquity of Freedom,’ -and ‘The Battle Field’ are representative. -The first three with their many stately lines show -how spontaneously his thought, even when nature -is not the subject, grows out of the contemplation -of nature and then returns to such contemplation -as to a resting place. ‘The Battle Field,’ -the expression of a noble faith in the outcome of -‘a friendless warfare,’ contains the most inspiring -of his quatrains, as it is one of the best contributions -made by an American poet to the stock of -quotable English <span class="locked">verse:—</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again;</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The eternal years of God are hers;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But Error, wounded, writhes with pain,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And dies among his worshippers.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>His patriotic poems are few in number, but -Bryant’s reticence must be taken into account. -Coming from him, the verses mean more than if -they came from another. Two of the best are ‘Oh -Mother of a mighty Race’ and ‘Not Yet.’ The -second of these, written in July, 1861, has a finely -imaginative stanza in which are pictured the dead -monarchies of the past eager to welcome another -broken and ruined land among their <span class="locked">number:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Not yet the hour is nigh when they</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Who deep in Eld’s dim twilight sit,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Earth’s ancient kings, shall rise and say,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">“Proud country, welcome to the pit!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">So soon art thou like us brought low!”</div> - <div class="verse indent0">No, sullen group of shadows, No!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>To the same year belong the spirited verses -‘Our Country’s <span class="locked">Call:’—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Strike to defend the gentlest sway</div> - <div class="verse indent2">That Time in all his course has seen.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Few, few were they whose swords of old</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Won the fair land in which we dwell;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But we are many, we who hold</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The grim resolve to guard it well.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Strike, for that broad and goodly land,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Blow after blow, till men shall see</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That Might and Right move hand in hand,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And glorious must their triumph be!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Such was the temper of men who had looked -with philosophic composure and curiosity on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span> -movements of the sometimes well-nigh frenzied -abolitionists. The blow at the integrity of the -nation fired their cool patriotism to white heat.</p> - -<p>What lightness of touch Bryant had is shown -in that exquisite lyric ‘The Stream of Life.’ He -could be conventional, as in the love poem where -he celebrates ‘the gentle season’ when ‘nymphs -relent,’ and very sensibly advises the young lady -’ere her bloom is past, to secure her lover.’ He -was not strong in wit or humor. The verses ‘To -a Mosquito’ might have been read with good -effect to a party of well-fed clubmen after dinner, -but finding them in the same volume with ‘A -Forest Hymn’ gives one an uncomfortable surprise, -like finding a pun in Lowell’s <i>Cathedral</i>. -That Bryant could write agreeable narrative verse, -‘The Children of the Snow’ and ‘Sella’ bear witness. -That he is at his best in meditative poems, -lofty characterizations of Nature, grand visions of -Life and Death, is proved by hundreds of felicitous -verses which have become an inalienable part of -our young literature.</p> - -<p>He never really excelled the work of his youth. -Bryant will always be known as the author of -‘Thanatopsis.’ This great vision of Death is his -stateliest poem and his best, the most felicitous -of phrase and the loftiest in imagery. Written by -a stoic, magnificently stoical in tone, it offers but -a stoic’s comfort after all. Perhaps this is a secret -of its popularity, on the theory that while professed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span> -pagans are few the instinct towards paganism -still exists, and most among those who say -least about it.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_12">V<br /> - -<span class="subhead">LATEST POETICAL WORK</span> - -<span class="subhead"><i>THE ILIAD</i> AND <i>THE ODYSSEY</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> collected edition of Bryant’s poems of 1854 -contains a handful of translations, twelve from the -Spanish, four from the German, one each from -the French, the Provençal, the Portuguese, and -the Greek. In 1864 a translation of the fifth book -of the <i>Odyssey</i> was printed in the volume entitled -<i>Thirty Poems</i>. The praise which it called out gave -Bryant the impulse to further experiments of the -same sort; and after the death of his wife (in 1866), -when the necessity was upon him of forgetting his -grief so far as possible in some engrossing work, he -undertook a version of the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i> -entire.</p> - -<p>He gave himself methodically to the task, -translating about forty lines a day. Later he increased -the daily stint to seventy-five lines. He -chose blank verse because ‘the use of rhyme in a -translation is a constant temptation to petty infidelities.’</p> - -<p>Bryant retained the misleading Latin forms of -proper names. Worsley says: ‘Not even Mr.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span> -Gladstone’s example can now make Juno, Mercury, -and Venus admissible in Homeric story.’ -But Worsley confessed his own inability to write -Phoibos, Apollôn, and Kirké. Bryant’s argument -for his course looks specious: ‘I was translating -from Greek into English, and I therefore translated -the names of the gods, as well as the other -parts of the poem.’ Probably he had an affection -for the old nomenclature, a sentiment like -Macaulay’s, who ‘never could reconcile himself -to seeing the friends of his boyhood figure as -Kleon, and Alkibiadês, and Poseidôn, and Odysseus.’<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">6</a></p> - -<p>An enthusiastic admirer of Bryant declares that -in the opinion of ‘competent critics’ his versions -of Homer ‘will hold their own with the translations -of Pope, Chapman, Newman, or the late -Earl Derby.’ Much depends on the question of -what a ‘competent critic’ is, and which one of several -competent critics is to be taken as final authority. -Competent critics, who, by the way, seldom -agree, have a habit of agreeing on anything sooner -than the merits of a version of Homer. And when -one remembers the fearful attack made by Matthew -Arnold on Newman (‘Any vivacities of expression -which may have given him pain I sincerely regret’)—he -may well hesitate to take as a compliment -the statement that Bryant will ‘hold his -own’ with Newman.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span></p> - -<p>The question of the higher merit of the poem -rests with the experts at last. Pessimists all, they -are discouragingly hostile to metrical versions of -the <i>Iliad</i>. Yet the most uncompromising of them -would hardly deny a lay reader the privilege of -enjoying Homer, in so far as possible, through the -medium of Bryant’s blank verse. They might even -be persuaded to admit that this version has a peculiar -adaptability to the needs of the public; that the -clarity and beauty of the English, the dignified ease -of the measure, the sustained energy and vigor of -the performance as a whole, fit Bryant’s Homer in -a high degree to the use for which it was intended. -The argument from popularity, that always unsafe -and often vicious argument, has a measure of force -here. Granting that Homer in any honest translation -is better than no Homer at all, may not the -uncompromising scholars be called on to rejoice -that this more than honest, nay, this admirable -translation of the <i>Iliad</i> has sold to the extent of -many thousands of copies? Where there are so -many buyers, there must be readers not a few.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Bryant was one of those unusual men who have -two distinct callings. Much surprise has been expressed -at his apparent ability to carry on his functions -of journalist and poet without clash. But is -it true, or more than superficially true, that he did -so carry them on? To be sure, he wrote his editorial -articles at the newspaper office and his verses<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span> -elsewhere, but this is a mere mechanical distinction. -A man of Bryant’s depth of conviction and -passionate temperament does not throw off care -when he boards a suburban train for his country -home.</p> - -<p>The history of Bryant’s inner life has not been -written, perhaps cannot be. This is not to imply -that his character was enigmatic and mysterious, -but merely to emphasize the fact of his extraordinary -reserve. More than most self-contained men -he kept his own counsel. Such a history would -show how deep his experience of the world had -ploughed into him, and it might explain in a degree -the remote and stoical character of his verse.</p> - -<p>Bryant’s poetical work as a whole has an impassive -quality often described as coldness. Partly -due to his genius and accentuated by the excessive -retouching to which he subjected his verse, it grew -in still larger measure out of his determination not -to impart to his verse any of the feverishness of -spirit consequent upon a life of political warfare. -The poet held himself wonderfully in check, as a -man of iron will allows no mark of the strong passion -under which he labors to show in his face. -Bryant was rarely betrayed into so much of personal -feeling as flashed out in that bitter stanza of -‘The Future <span class="locked">Life:’—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">For me the sordid cares in which I dwell,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the scroll;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And wrath has left its scar—that fire of hell</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Has left its scar upon my soul.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span></p> -<p>While the detachment was not complete, Bryant -undoubtedly kept his poetic apart from his secular -life in a way to command admiration. This he -accomplished by extraordinary self-restraint. As a -part of the varied and long-continued discipline -to which he subjected himself, the self-restraint -made for character. The question, however, arises -whether the poetry did not, in certain ways, suffer -under the very discipline by which the character -developed.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="fnanchor">1</a> Bryant’s contributions were the stories entitled ‘Medfield’ -and ‘The Skeleton’s Cave.’ As originally planned the book was -to have been called <i>The Sextad</i>, but Verplanck, who would have -made the sixth author, withdrew.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="fnanchor">2</a> John Bigelow.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="fnanchor">3</a> W. C. Bronson.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="fnanchor">4</a> Bryant’s apology to the public for his course, together with -Leggett’s statement as an eye-witness, will be found in the ‘Evening -Post’ of Thursday, April 21, 1831. Neither the guarded -account of the episode in Godwin’s <i>Bryant</i>, nor the brief notice -in Haswell’s <i>Reminiscences of an Octogenarian</i> is quite accurate.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="fnanchor">5</a> As in an ironical leader commending journalists who refuse -to say that a man ‘was drowned,’ a dangerous innovation, and, -‘to preserve the purity of their mother tongue,’ stick to time-honored -metaphors and say that the man ‘found a watery grave.’—‘Evening -Post,’ August 17, 1831.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="fnanchor">6</a> G. O. Trevelyan.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_3" class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="III">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>James Fenimore Cooper</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>W. C. Bryant</b>: <i>A Discourse on the Life, Character, and -Genius of James Fenimore Cooper</i>, 1852.</p> - -<p><b>T. R. Lounsbury</b>: <i>James Fenimore Cooper</i>, ‘American -Men of Letters,’ fourth edition, 1884.</p> - -<p><b>W. B. Shubrick Clymer</b>: <i>James Fenimore Cooper</i>, -‘Beacon Biographies,’ 1900.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_13">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">James Cooper</span> was the eleventh of the twelve -children of William and Elizabeth (Fenimore) -Cooper, of Burlington, New Jersey. He was born -in that picturesque town by the Delaware on September -15, 1789. The name James, given him in -honor of his grandfather, had also been borne by -his first American ancestor, who is said to have -come from Stratford-on-Avon, in 1679. In fulfilment -of a promise to his mother (whose family -had become extinct in the male line), the novelist, -in 1826, changed his name to Fenimore-Cooper.</p> - -<p>At the close of the Revolutionary War, William -Cooper acquired large tracts of land on Otsego -Lake in New York, settled there in 1790, founded -the village still known as Cooperstown, and built<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span> -for himself a stately home to which he gave the -name of Otsego Hall. He was the first judge of -the county and a member of Congress, a man -of strong character and agreeable address.<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">7</a></p> - -<p>Cooper’s boyhood was passed amid picturesque -natural surroundings, on the edge of civilization, -the scene of <i>The Deerslayer</i> and <i>The Pioneers</i>. He -attended the village school, prepared for college -with the rector of St. Peter’s Church, Albany, -entered Yale in the second term of the Freshman -year (Class of 1806), and was dismissed in the -Junior year for some boyish escapade the nature -of which is unexplained.</p> - -<p>It was decided that he should enter the navy. -There was then no training school, and boys took -the first lessons in seamanship in the merchant -marine. Cooper spent a year before the mast in -the ‘Sterling,’ sailing from New York to London, -thence to Gibraltar, back to London, and from -London to Philadelphia. His experiences are set -forth in the early chapters of <i>Ned Myers</i>. The -‘Sterling’ lost two of her best hands by impressment -as soon as she reached English waters. -Cooper’s indignation at these outrages afterwards -found voice through the lips of Ithuel Bolt in the -story entitled <i>Wing-and-Wing</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span></p> - -<p>He was commissioned midshipman on January -1, 1808, and served awhile on the ‘Vesuvius.’ In -the following winter he was one of the party sent -to Oswego to build a brig for the defence of the -lake, and became acquainted with the regions described -in <i>The Pathfinder</i>. In the summer of 1809 -he had charge of the gun-boats on Lake Champlain, -and in the autumn was ordered to the sloop -of war ‘Wasp.’</p> - -<p>He left the service on his betrothal with Miss -Susan DeLancey of Mamaroneck, New York, -whom he married on January 1, 1811. For a few -years he lived the life of a landed proprietor, dividing -his time between Cooperstown, Scarsdale, and -Mamaroneck. The dulness of a novel he was reading -aloud to his wife provoked him to say that he -could write a better one himself. Challenged to -prove it, he produced <i>Precaution</i> (1820), a story of -English life, following conventional lines. It was -apprentice work. The effort of composition taught -Cooper that he could write, but not that he could -write well. He had no conceit of the book, and -refused it a place in his collected writings.</p> - -<p>In 1821 <i>The Spy, a Tale of the Neutral Ground</i>, -was published; its unqualified good fortune made -Cooper a professed man of letters. From that time -on until his death, twenty-nine years later, he produced -books with uninterrupted regularity.</p> - -<p><i>The Spy</i> was followed by <i>The Pioneers, or the -Sources of the Susquehanna</i>, 1823; <i>The Pilot, a Tale<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span> -of the Sea</i>, 1824; <i>Lionel Lincoln, or the Leaguer of -Boston</i>, 1825; <i>The Last of the Mohicans, a Narrative -of 1757</i>, 1826. But one of this group of -four can be pronounced a failure and two have -had a success almost phenomenal in the history of -letters.</p> - -<p>Cooper shared the American passion for seeing -foreign lands. The proceeds of authorship enabled -him to carry out a plan he had formed of spending -some time abroad. With his family and servants -(a party of ten in all), he set sail from New -York on June 1, 1826. He proposed to be gone -five years. He overstayed that time by two years -and five months. From May, 1826, to about -January, 1829, he held the ‘nominal position’ of -American consul at Lyons. His journeyings were -made in a leisurely way after the fashion of the -time. Eighteen months were spent in Paris and -the vicinity, four months in London, and a few -weeks in Holland, Belgium, and Switzerland. The -winter of 1828–29 was passed in Florence, and was -followed by a voyage to Naples. After spending -some months at Sorrento and Naples, he settled -in Rome for the winter of 1829–30. Thence to -Venice, Munich, Dresden, and finally back to -Paris.</p> - -<p>He published while abroad <i>The Prairie</i>, 1827; -<i>The Red Rover</i>, 1828; <i>Notions of the Americans, -Picked up by a Travelling Bachelor</i>, 1828; <i>The -Wept of Wish-ton-Wish</i>, 1829; <i>The Water-Witch,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span> -or the Skimmer of the Seas</i>, 1830; <i>The Bravo</i>, -1831; <i>The Heidenmauer, or the Benedictines</i>, 1832; -<i>The Headsman, or the Abbaye des Vignerons</i>, 1833.</p> - -<p>In November, 1833, Cooper returned to America. -That and several ensuing winters were passed -in New York, the summers in Cooperstown. Later -he made Otsego Hall his permanent home.</p> - -<p>He soon became embroiled in quarrels with the -press. While in Paris his defence of Lafayette’s -position in what is known as the ‘Expenses Controversy’ -had provoked from his native land criticism -which Cooper resented. He angered a part -of the inhabitants of Cooperstown by making clear -to them that Three Mile Point (a wooded tract -on the lake, long used by the villagers as a picnic -ground) was not theirs, as they maintained, but a -part of the Cooper estate. With no thought of -robbing them of their pleasure park, he insisted on -their understanding that they enjoyed its use by -favor and not by right.</p> - -<p>For this the country papers assailed him. Combative -by nature, Cooper brought suits for libel -and recovered damages. The novel spectacle of -an author baiting the newspapers ‘caused remark.’ -The city press joined in the attack, the ‘Courier -and Enquirer,’ the ‘New York Tribune,’ the -‘Albany Evening Journal,’ edited by Thurlow -Weed, who once said apropos of his skill in stirring -up litigation: ‘There is something in my -manner of writing that makes the galled jades<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span> -wince.’ Verdicts were given in Cooper’s favor. -More libels followed, more suits were brought, -more damages recovered. A cry arose that the -liberty of the press was endangered. Cooper did -not think so. He was a bulldog; when he had -once fastened his teeth in a Whig editor, nothing -could make him let go. He continued his prosecutions -until he made his detractors respect him. -It took about six years to do it. Bryant has described -with grim humor the novelist’s warfare -with that leviathan the Press: ‘He put a hook -into the nose of this huge monster,’ said Bryant -admiringly.<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">8</a></p> - -<p>This warfare disturbed Cooper’s peace of mind, -but in no wise interrupted his literary activity. -The following list records by no means all that he -wrote after 1834, but will suffice to show his right -copious and often happy industry. Besides ten -volumes of travels, Cooper published: <i>A Letter -to his Countrymen</i>, 1834; <i>The Monikins</i>, 1835; -<i>The American Democrat</i>, 1838; <i>Homeward Bound, -or the Chase</i>, 1838; <i>Home as Found</i>, 1838; <i>The -History of the Navy of the United States of America</i>,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span> -1839; <i>The Pathfinder, or the Inland Sea</i>, 1840; -<i>Mercedes of Castile, or the Voyage to Cathay</i>, 1840; -<i>The Deerslayer, or the First War Path</i>, 1841; The -<i>Two Admirals</i>, 1842; <i>The Wing-and-Wing, or -Le Feu-Follet</i>, 1842; <i>Wyandotté, or the Hutted -Knoll</i>, 1843; <i>Ned Meyers, or a Life before the -Mast</i>, 1843; <i>Afloat and Ashore, or the Adventures -of Miles Wallingford</i>, 1844; <i>Miles Wallingford</i> -(the second part of <i>Afloat and Ashore</i>), 1844; -<i>Satanstoe, or the Littlepage Manuscripts</i>, 1845; -<i>The Chainbearer, or the Littlepage Manuscripts</i>, -1846; <i>Lives of Distinguished American Naval -Officers</i>, 1846; <i>The Redskins, or Indian and Injin</i>, -1846; <i>The Crater, or Vulcan’s Peak</i>, 1847; <i>Jack -Tier, or the Florida Reefs</i>, 1848; <i>The Oak Openings, -or the Bee Hunter</i>, 1848; <i>The Sea Lions, or -the Lost Sealers</i>, 1849; <i>The Ways of the Hour</i>, -1850.</p> - -<p><i>The Spy</i> was dramatized and played successfully.<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">9</a> -Dramatizations were also made of <i>The Pilot</i>, <i>The -Red Rover</i>, <i>The Water-Witch</i>, <i>The Pioneers</i> (‘The -Wigwam, or Templeton Manor’), and <i>The Wept -of Wish-ton-Wish</i> (‘Miantonomah and Narrahmattah’). -An original comedy, ‘Upside Down, or -Philosophy in Petticoats,’<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">10</a> was withdrawn after -four performances. No satisfactory account exists -of Cooper’s earnings by literature. It is believed -that in the later years he was obliged to write, if<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span> -not for the necessities of life, at least for the comforts -and luxuries.</p> - -<p>The hostility provoked by his energetic criticisms -subsided in time. There was even a project -on foot in New York to pay him the compliment -of a public dinner as a proof of returning confidence. -His untimely illness put to one side the -question of honors of this poor sort.</p> - -<p>Cooper died at Otsego Hall on September 14, -1851.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_14">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Cooper</span> was a democrat in theory but not in practice. -The rude ‘feudalism’ in which his boyhood -was passed fostered the aristocratic sentiment. A -residence abroad, in the obsequious atmosphere -with which the serving classes invest any one who -has the appearance of wealth, aggravated it. No -one could have been more heartily ‘American’ -than Cooper; but he made distinctions and his -countrymen abhorred the distinctions.</p> - -<p>Pride of this not unreasonable sort may go -hand in hand with genuine modesty. Cooper was -more unpretentious than his enemies were willing -to allow. With a reputation that would have -opened many doors he made no capital of it; he -had no mind ‘to thrust himself on all societies.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span></p> - -<p>He was never slow to make use of the inalienable -American privilege of speaking one’s -mind. In 1835 the theory of the entire perfection -of the American character was seldom challenged, -at least by a native writer. That Cooper should -entertain doubts on the subject was thought monstrous. -It was resented in him the more because -of his manner. Opinions quite as radical might -have been uttered wittily and the end accomplished. -Cooper had little wit. His touch was heavy and he -was in dead earnest. He lacked neither courage, -nor honesty, nor highmindedness, nor generosity, -nor yet judgment (if his temper was unruffled), -but he was entirely wanting in tact, and largely -wanting in geniality of the useful, if superficial, -sort, which lessens the wear and tear of human -intercourse.</p> - -<p>A philosopher divides famous men into two -classes: those who are admired in their own homes -(as well as in the world), and those who are admired -anywhere but at home. Cooper belonged -to the first class rather than the second. This -proud, irascible, contentious, dogmatic man of -letters enjoyed the unswerving loyalty and deep -affection of every member of his family. And -from this his biographer argues an essential sweetness -of nature.</p> - -<p>Cooper somewhere says: ‘Men are as much -indebted to a fortuitous concurrence of circumstances -for the characters they sustain in this world,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span> -as to their personal qualities.’ It was his ill-luck -to have the accidents of his character often mistaken -for the character itself.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_15">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE WRITER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Cooper’s</span> English at best, though fluent and -spirited, is without grace; at worst it is clumsy -and intractable. This writer of world-wide fame -is singularly wanting in literary finish. He is not -careless but colorless, not slovenly but neutral. -He succeeds almost without the aid of what is -commonly called ‘style.’ He is read for what he -has to say, not for the way in which he says it. -There are surprises in store for the reader, but -they are not to be found in the perfect word, the -happy phrase, or the balance of a sentence, but -always in the unexpected turn of an adventure, in -a well-planned episode abounding in incident, in -the release of mental tension following the happy -issue out of danger. As was said of another copious -writer, ‘he weaves a loose web;’ one might -add that it is often of coarse fibre. In few writers -of eminence is form so subservient to contents. -The defect was due to haste, to the natural and -lordly contempt of a spontaneous story-teller for -the niceties of rhetoric.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_16">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead">ROMANCES OF THE AMERICAN -REVOLUTION</span> - -<span class="subhead"><i>THE SPY</i>, <i>LIONEL LINCOLN</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Life</span> in that unhappy strip of country known -during the Revolution as ‘the neutral ground,’ -Westchester County, New York, is the subject -of <i>The Spy</i>. Here frequent and bloody encounters -took place between skirmishers from the opposing -armies. Marauding bands, ostensibly ‘loyal’ or -‘patriotic,’ though often composed of banditti, -made life a misery and a terror to peaceably inclined -householders. Cooper wrote from first-hand -traditions. The family of his wife had been loyalists, -and the most famous of Westchester County -raiders was a DeLancey.</p> - -<p>The chief character is Harvey Birch, the Spy. -Professing to be in the employ of the British, he is -the most trusted of Washington’s secret agents. His -devotion to his chief is a passion, almost a religion. -Mean of appearance, niggardly in his mode of life, -he is capable of the last degree of personal sacrifice. -His patriotism is of the most exalted kind, since it -can have no proportionate reward. He must live -(perchance die) detested by the people for whom -he risks his life daily. Cooper makes us deeply<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span> -interested in this uncouth being, who, persecuted -to the point of despair, and even brought to the -gallows, finds always a way of escape. Birch gambled -with his life in stake. It was a desperate throw -when he destroyed the bit of paper signed by -Washington.</p> - -<p>The romantic hero of the story is Peyton Dunwoodie, -a youth whose ‘dark and sparkling glance’ -played havoc with the hearts of impressionable -ladies. But Peyton was true, and loved but one. -More to the modern taste are the humors of Lawton -and Sitgreaves, of Sergeant Hollister and Betty -Flanagan. ‘Mr. Harper’ is impressive, and the -mystery of his character well sustained. The ladies -of ‘The Locusts’ have the quaint charm inseparable -from other-day manners and costume. To be -sure one of them, who seems likely to die of love, -is mercifully killed by a random bullet, and another -becomes a maniac. Novel-readers wanted a deal -for their money in 1821. But Frances Wharton -is a likable little creature, though her talk does -not in the least resemble that of Miss Clara Middleton.</p> - -<p>As an Irish bishop said of <i>Gulliver’s Travels</i>, -the book contains improbabilities. The device of -a masque which converts young Henry Wharton -into the counterfeit presentment of an old gray-headed -negro is far-fetched. <i>The Spy</i> was not intended -to be a realistic novel.</p> - -<p>Cooper projected another story on the background<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span> -of the Revolution. <i>Lionel Lincoln</i>, for all -the work put on it, was not a success. It had merits -among which the merit of spontaneity is not conspicuous. -Had the failure been less apparent, the -novelist might have been tempted to continue the -‘Legends of the Thirteen Republics.’</p> - -<h3 id="sec_17">V<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE LEATHER-STOCKING TALES AND -OTHER INDIAN STORIES</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">A French</span> critic once remarked that nothing was -so like a <i>chanson de geste</i> as another <i>chanson de -geste</i>. Readers have deplored the fact that nothing -was so like a Leather-Stocking tale as another -Leather-Stocking tale. But <i>The Pioneers</i>, the first -of the series in order of composition, bears little resemblance -to the others, and as a picture of life in -a New York village at the end of the Eighteenth -Century has a historical value. The narrative is -firm in texture. The characters are thirty in number, -and every man in his humor. The Judge, -Cousin Richard, Mr. Grant the clergyman, all the -town oddities, Monsieur Le Quoi, Major Hartmann, -Doolittle, Kirby, and Benjamin are real -and humanly interesting. The dialogue is fresh, -racy, and appropriate. There is no effort at compression; -winter evenings were long in 1824.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span></p> - -<p>The book holds one by the scenes and characters -rather than by the ‘fable.’ The mystery of -‘Edwards,’ and the coming to life of old Major -Effingham, are well enough; but the strength of the -story is in the episodes, such as that where Hiram -Doolittle, supported by Jotham and Kirby, tries -to serve the warrant on Natty Bumppo, in the -trial of the old hunter, or the capital scene where -Natty is put into the stocks, and the chivalrous -major-domo, Benjamin, insists on sharing his -punishment, and cheering the heart-broken old -man with comfortable and picturesque words. -Presently Doolittle came to enjoy the fruit of his -victory. Venturing too near, he found himself -in the tenacious grasp of the irate major-domo. -Benjamin’s legs were stationary, but his fists were -free, and he proceeded to work away with ‘great -industry’ on Mr. Doolittle’s face, ‘using one -hand to raise up his antagonist, while he knocked -him over with the other;’ he scorned to strike -a fallen adversary.</p> - -<p><i>The Pioneers</i> would merit a high place in American -fiction were it only on account of that original -character, Natty Bumppo, or ‘Leather-Stocking.’ -He is natural, easy, attractive. In the other books -(always excepting <i>The Prairie</i>), there is more of -invention. Putting it in another way, the first -Natty Bumppo is like a study from life, while the -others often leave the impression of being studies -from the first study.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span></p> - -<p>By changing the background, the costume, the -accessories, and making his hero younger or older, -Cooper found him available for more exciting dramas -than that played in Templeton.</p> - -<p>Leather-Stocking next appears as ‘Hawkeye,’ -the scout, in <i>The Last of the Mohicans</i>, a narrative -based on the massacre of Fort William Henry in -1757, and, all things considered, the most famous -of Cooper’s novels. It is an out-and-out Indian -story, good for boys and not bad for men, being -vigorous, brilliant, and packed with adventure. -The capture, by a band of Montcalm’s marauding -Iroquois, of the two daughters of the old Scottish -general, their rescue by Hawkeye, Chingachgook, -and Uncas, their recapture, the pursuit and the -thrilling events in the Indian villages, form the -staple of a book which without exaggeration may -be called world-renowned.</p> - -<p>If <i>The Last of the Mohicans</i> suffers from one -fault more than another, it is from a superabundance -of hair-breadth escapes. The novelist heaps -difficulties on difficulties, all of which appear insurmountable, -and are presently surmounted with -an ease that makes the reader half angry with himself -for having worried.</p> - -<p>As might have been expected, in growing -younger Natty has grown theatrical; he appears -too exactly at the critical moment to perform the -deed of cool bravery expected of him. It could -hardly be otherwise; <i>The Last of the Mohicans</i> is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span> -a romance, and in romances such things must be. -Chingachgook, that engaging savage, has for so -many years met the romantic ideal of the American -Indian that it is unlikely he will ever be disturbed -in his place in the reader’s esteem. His rôle of -white man’s friend was played in <i>The Prairie</i> by -Hard-Heart, the young Pawnee chief.</p> - -<p><i>The Prairie</i> has an originality all its own. This -strange and sombre tale brings together an oddly -assorted group of people, some of whom—the -squatter and his family in particular—are drawn -with rude strength. There are weak points in the -plot. The carefully guarded tent with its hidden -occupant is a poor device for compelling attention. -Dr. Battius, endlessly talkative about genus and -species, is a tiresome personage. The justification -of the story as a work of art is to be sought in -the descriptions of the ‘desert,’ in the impressions -given of immeasurable distance and illimitable -space, the abode of mystery and terror. The passages -describing the stampede of a herd of buffalo, -the night surprise of the trapper and his friends -by the Sioux, the escape of Hard-Heart from the -torture-stake, are all done with a masterly stroke.</p> - -<p>Natty Bumppo figures in <i>The Prairie</i> as an -old man of eighty-seven. His eye has lost its -keenness of vision and his hand its steadiness. -But the heart is undaunted (‘Lord, what a strange -thing is fear!’) and the mind fertile in expedients. -At times the trapper appears in almost superhuman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span> -proportions; he is mythical, like a hero of -antiquity. The attachment between the ancient -hunter and his dog is exquisitely described. In -the beautiful account of Leather-Stocking’s last -hour no touch is more poetic than that where the -dying man discovers that the faithful Hector is -dead. He will not say that a Christian can hope -to meet his hound again; but he asks that Hector -be buried beside him; no harm, he thinks, can -come of that.</p> - -<p>Thirteen years after the publication of <i>The -Prairie</i> appeared <i>The Pathfinder</i>, and one year -after that <i>The Deerslayer</i>. The series was now -complete, forming ‘something like a drama in five -acts.’ <i>The Pathfinder</i> shows Natty in mature -manhood, and (for the comfort of all who require -this test of their heroes of fiction) a victim of unrequited -love. Exposed to the wiles of the most -treacherous of all Mingos, Cupid, the quondam -hunter, hunted in turn, takes defeat like the man -he is. In <i>The Deerslayer</i> the chronicle is completed -with a group of scenes from Natty’s youth. -On the shores of Otsego Lake, while defending old -Hutter’s aquatic home, the young man learns the -first lessons in the art of war.</p> - -<p>Cooper wrote yet other Indian stories. Two -may be taken note of in this section: <i>The Wept -of Wish-ton-Wish</i>, a narrative of the Connecticut -settlements in ‘King Philip’s’ time, and <i>Wyandotté</i>, -an episode of frontier life in 1775. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span> -latter is realistic. Cooper was on his own ground -and knew the Willoughby Patent and the Hutted -Knoll much as he knew ‘Templeton’ and Otsego -Lake. <i>The Wept of Wish-ton-Wish</i> is pure romance. -In spite of the labored speech of the -Puritan settlers and the metaphorical flights of -Metacom and Conanchet, the story is enthralling. -That is a genuinely pathetic scene where Ruth -Heathcote seeks to awaken in the mind of Narramattah, -her lost daughter, now the wife of the -Narragansett chief, some faint memory of her -childhood, and the account of Conanchet’s death -at the hands of the Mohicans is a strong and dramatic -piece of writing.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_18">VI<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE SEA STORIES</span> - -<span class="subhead">FROM <i>THE PILOT</i> TO <i>MILES WALLINGFORD</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><i>The Pilot</i> is an imaginary episode in the life of -John Paul Jones. Cooper has given his hero a -poetic character. ‘Mr. Gray’ applies science to -the problem before him up to the critical moment, -and then trusts to intuition, to his genius, and -finds wind and wave owning him their master. -The new note is in the vivid descriptive passages, -couched in terms of practical seamanship, but so -graphically put that the most ignorant of lubbers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span> -can be depended on to read with a quickened -pulse. Notable among these are the rescue of the -frigate from the shoals, and the fight between the -‘Alacrity’ and ‘Ariel.’</p> - -<p>There is much human nature in the speech -of the men if not of the women. The dialogue -between Borroughcliffe and Manual would not -shame books more celebrated for humor than <i>The -Pilot</i>. Vast refreshment can be found in the racy -and picturesque talk of Long Tom Coffin, the -most original character in Cooper’s gallery of seamen; -also in that of Boltrope, who from an early -‘prejudyce’ against knee-breeches (he somehow -always imagined Satan as wearing them) never became -fully reconciled to the ship’s chaplain until -that worthy left off ‘scudding under bare poles’ -and garbed himself like other men. Dillon, the -lawyer, is too obviously the scoundrel. As the -‘Cacique of Pedee,’ however, he serves a good -end. His kinsman, Colonel Howard, walks the -stage with dignity, a worthy specimen of the loyalist -of the American Revolution, and typical of the -class for whom Cooper had much sympathy.</p> - -<p>The young women are far from being lay figures. -They have beauty, intelligence, courage, even -audacity. That they are too perfect in feature, -form, manner, was a defect common to all fiction of -the time; the art of making a heroine of a plain -woman was in its infancy. Cooper, who could describe -a girl, had always a deal of trouble to make<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span> -her talk. Did he never listen to the conversation -of those interesting creatures known, in the parlance -of his day, as ‘females’? Would Alice -Dunscombe, meeting her lover after a separation -of six years, have used the phrases Cooper put -into her lips? All these young women might with -justice have complained that the speaking parts -assigned them were not representative. But they -were at the author’s mercy and did as they were -told.</p> - -<p>Cooper’s principal biographer, to whom we are -all vastly indebted, says that ‘the female characters -of his earlier novels are never able to do -anything successfully but faint.’ This is unfair. -Katherine Plowden, a brunette beauty, whom -Professor Lounsbury has allowed himself to forget, -goes habited <i>en garçon</i> to seek her lover, and -does not faint when she finds him, only laughs -like the gay Rosalind she is.</p> - -<p>The story of ‘Mr. Gray the pilot’ is good, but -<i>The Red Rover</i> is better. Cooper gave the public -something new in pirates. The old-fashioned corsair, -in theatrical phrase, looked his part. He -swore horribly, was awful to behold, black-whiskered, -visibly blood-stained, a walking stand of -arms, like the monsters described in Esquemeling’s -<i>Buccaneers of America</i>. Unlike L’Olonnois, of evil -memory, the captain of the ‘Dolphin’ is almost a -Brummell; his cabin is a boudoir, and he has the -wit to eschew the old-fashioned device of skull<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span> -and cross-bones. One is inclined, however, to -laugh when the pirate ‘throws his form on a divan’ -and bids music discourse. The Rover was somewhat -given to posing, and in moments of deep -thought wore a ‘look of faded marble.’</p> - -<p>There is nothing fantastic in Wilder, the young -captain, and nothing to be desired in his handling -of the ‘Royal Caroline.’ The description of the -flight before the strange cruiser is a splendidly -nervous piece of writing. From the moment when -the Bristol trader disentangles herself from the -slaver’s side in the harbor of Newport until she -becomes a wreck on the high seas and the diabolical -pursuer passes like a hurricane, the interest is -cumulative.</p> - -<p>The book has its quota of garrulous old salts, -some of whom talk too much, others not enough. -‘Mister Nightingale’ promises well, but has little -of value to say after his discourse anent the quantity -of sail a ship may carry in a white squall off -the coast of Guinea. The reader will find amusement -in the other characters, notably Fid and that -strange being, Scipio Africanus.</p> - -<p><i>The Water-Witch</i> concerns a mysterious and -beautiful smuggling brigantine with a wonderful -gift for eluding Her Majesty’s revenue cruiser -under command of Captain Ludlow. The time -is the close of Lord Cornbury’s administration, -the scene, New York harbor and the adjacent -estuaries. The story is fantastic and melodramatic,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span> -and the dialogue stilted, even for Cooper. Compared -with <i>The Red Rover</i>, a romance like <i>The -Water-Witch</i> is hard reading. With such characters -as Alderman Van Beverout, Alida de Barbérie, -and ‘Seadrift’ with her epicene beauty, it is not -surprising that <i>The Water-Witch</i> should have been -dramatized.</p> - -<p><i>The Two Admirals</i> is an engaging picture of -manly affection. He who has made the acquaintance -of Sir Gervaise Oakes and his friend Richard -Bluewater is to be congratulated, for a more sterling-hearted -pair of worthies is seldom to be found. -Other pleasant company may be had for the asking; -the aged baronet Sir Wycherly Wychecombe, -hospitable to excess, bemoaning the inconvenience -of not having a satisfactory heir, and wondering -why his brother never married, though he had -never given himself the trouble to undergo the -discipline of wedlock. Agreeable in their several -ways are Mildred Dutton, Wycherly Wychecombe -the young Virginian, and Galleygo the top man -turned steward, he of the picturesque language. The -story has a conventional plot, and one is supposed -to be eager to know the validity of the Virginian’s -claim to the ancient estate of the Wychecombes. -The plot is in danger of being forgotten when -Cooper carries his people to sea, and describes the -action between French and English fleets off Cape -la Hogue.</p> - -<p><i>Wing-and-Wing</i> relates the adventures of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span> -French privateer in the Mediterranean in 1798. -One has not to read far before becoming enamoured -of the diabolical little lugger and her audacious -captain. As creatures of romance go, the good-humored -and handsome Raoul Yvard (alias ‘Sir -Smees’) is real and attractive. His arguments -with Ghita (they talk theology not at all after -the manner of Mrs. Humphry Ward’s characters) -move one to turn the pages hurriedly. Raoul -may be forgiven; Ghita drove him to it, being -orthodox and fond of proselyting. One can always -take refuge with the vice-governatore and -the podestà. These worthies are long-winded, but -it were unfair to call them dull.</p> - -<p>Ithuel Bolt, that long-legged, loose-jointed son -of the Granite State, is new in Cooper’s gallery -of seamen. He makes an interesting figure in the -wine-shop at Porto Ferrajo, his chair, creaking -under his weight, tipped back on two legs against -the wall, the uprights digging into the plaster, his -knees apart, ‘you fancy how,’ and his long arms -over the backs of neighboring chairs, giving him -a resemblance to a spread eagle. Next to the wine -of the country, which he abuses while succumbing -to its influence, he detests the saints. Filippo, -the Genoese sailor, undertakes a feeble defence. -Says the Yankee: ‘A saint is but a human—a -man like you and me, after all the fuss you -make about ’em. Saints abound in my country, -if you’d believe people’s account of themselves.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span> -Cooper says that Bolt, after his return to -America, became a deacon. This is no more incredible -than the statement that he also became a -teetotaler.</p> - -<p>The pages of old reviews would probably show -how Cooper’s delineation of Englishmen affected -English readers. Our cousins over the water must -have been difficult if they quarrelled with the spirit -in which the portraits of Cuffe, Griffin, Winchester, -and Clinch were painted, all being good men and -true in their various capacities. In describing -Nelson and the ‘Lady Admiraless’ the novelist -undertook a difficult task. He was adroit enough -to avoid bringing the famous beauty too often on -the stage.</p> - -<p><i>Afloat and Ashore</i> and <i>Miles Wallingford</i> form -a continuous story of almost a thousand pages. -There is a mixture of love and adventure, the love -being depicted as Cooper usually does it, neither -better nor worse, and the sea-episodes as only -Cooper could do them.</p> - -<p>A capital passage in <i>Afloat and Ashore</i> is that -describing the encounter with the savages off the -coast of South America. Even more spirited are -those chapters of <i>Miles Wallingford</i> in which the -young captain of the ‘Dawn’ relates how he was -overhauled successively by a British man-of-war, -a French privateer, and a piratical lugger, and how -he escaped them all only to be wrecked at last in -the Irish Sea. Among a dozen or so of characters<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span> -Marble is a typical Cooper seaman, a man of -many resources, as witness how he outwitted Sennit. -He was patriotic too, and on his first visit to -London was chagrined at being obliged to admit -that St. Paul’s was better than anything they had -in Kennebunk.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_19">VII<br /> - -<span class="subhead">OLD-WORLD ROMANCE AND NEW-WORLD -SATIRE</span> - -<span class="subhead"><i>THE BRAVO</i>, <i>THE HEIDENMAUER</i>, <i>THE HEADSMAN</i>, -<i>HOMEWARD BOUND</i>, <i>HOME AS FOUND</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><i>The Bravo</i> was the first of a group of stories on -themes suggested to their author during his stay -on the Continent. It deals with Venetian life during -the decline of the Republic. Jacopo Frontoni, -the reputed bravo, becomes party to the iniquitous -system which conceals crimes committed in -the interest of the oligarchy, by throwing the suspicion -on himself, all to the end that he may save -his aged father, unjustly imprisoned by the state. -Under this odium Jacopo lives until life becomes -unendurable. At the moment he is meditating -flight he is himself enmeshed in the toils and dies -by the hand of the public executioner. A power -which holds that it can do no wrong has a short<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span> -way with servants who might betray its tortuous -policy.</p> - -<p>Jacopo comes too near to being a saint. He -would have been more lifelike had he been guilty -of one at least of the twenty-five murders laid at -his door. Even a hired assassin of the Fifteenth -Century might show filial piety.</p> - -<p>His fate more or less involves that of the old -fisherman of the lagoons, Antonio, a representative -of that helpless, oppressed class which is without -rights save the right of being punished if it -does not obey. Antonio is a nobly pathetic character, -one of the finest to which Cooper’s imagination -has given being. His patience, his love for -the grandchild taken from him by the state to -serve in the galleys, his courage in pleading before -the Doge and even in the dread presence of the -Council of Three that the boy may be given back -to him until he has been formed in habits of virtue, -are strong and beautiful traits.</p> - -<p>Violetta and Don Camillo furnish the love -motive, without which a romance of Venice were -barren. We sympathize with them and rejoice in -their escape. More than this the author could not -ask.</p> - -<p>That the story contains anachronisms admits of -no doubt. It may be that the arraignment of the -oligarchy is too unrelieved. On the other hand, -the virtues of the narrative are many. The movement -is rapid, the sentences clear, the various<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span> -strands of interest artfully woven, and the conclusion -inevitable and dramatic.</p> - -<p><i>The Heidenmauer</i> deals with the manners and -the antagonisms of the time when the schism of -Luther was undermining the Church. Far less engrossing -than its predecessor and weighted with -a cumbrous style, the book has its right valiant -warriors and militant churchmen, its burghers, -peasants, and other dramatis personæ of German -romance. There are characters like Gottlob and -old Ilse whose speech is always fresh and agreeable. -The French abbé is voluble and might have -been wittier. That one does not sit down to a table -spread with an intellectual feast like that served -in <i>The Monastery</i> or <i>The Abbot</i>, is no reason for -disdaining the fare served in <i>The Heidenmauer</i>.</p> - -<p>In <i>The Headsman</i> we follow the story of a highborn -girl who has given her heart to a young soldier -of fortune only to discover in him the son of -that most loathed of beings, the official executioner -of Berne. The office is hereditary, and were the -youth’s real condition known the odious duties -would in time fall on him. It is a foregone conclusion -that Sigismund shall be found to be of -noble birth, and Adelheid’s reward proportioned -to the greatness of her soul. This is but one thread -of a fairly complicated and romantic plot. The -interest of the narrative is well sustained and the -denouement unanticipated. None of these three -romances is, strictly speaking, a novel of purpose,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> -and the least attractive deserves friendlier critical -treatment than is commonly accorded it.</p> - -<p>In the same group may be placed <i>Mercedes of -Castile</i>, which, if it cannot hold the attention by -reason of the loves of Don Luis de Bobadilla and -Mercedes, and the fate of the unfortunate Ozema, -may be read (by whoever can take history well -diluted with fiction) for the story of Columbus’s -first voyage.</p> - -<p><i>The Monikins</i> contrasts the ways of men with -the ways of monkeys, much to the disadvantage -of men. Really it is no duller than some of the -professed satire of the present day; it is merely -longer and more desperately serious.</p> - -<p><i>Homeward Bound</i> and <i>Home as Found</i> form two -parts of a single novel. The satire of the first part -is forgotten in the movement of the narrative, the -sea-chase, the wreck off the African coast, the fight -with the Arabs. The second part is a diatribe on -New York and Cooperstown in particular, and -America in general. The chief characters, the -Effinghams, mean well, but ‘they have an unfortunate -manner,’ and their disagreeable traits are -not so piquant as to be entertaining. Steadfast -Dodge, the editor, is almost as unreal as the Effinghams. -Captain Truck is a genuine brother man, -resourceful as master of the ‘Montauk,’ and not -helpless when figuring (without his connivance) -as a great English author, at Mrs. Legend’s literary -soirée.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span></p> - -<p>Horatio Greenough had the ‘Effingham’ books -in mind when he wrote to Cooper: ‘I think you -lose hold on the American public by rubbing -down their shins with brickbats as you do.’</p> - -<h3 id="sec_20">VIII<br /> - -<span class="subhead">TRAVELS, HISTORY, POLITICAL WRITINGS -AND LATEST NOVELS</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Cooper</span> was a giant of productivity. Some brief -comment has been made on twenty-three of his -novels. It is impossible in the limits of this study -to do much beyond giving the titles of his remaining -books.</p> - -<p><i>The History of the Navy of the United States of -America</i> begins with ‘the earliest American sea-fight’ -(May, 1636), when John Gallop in a sloop -of twenty tons captured a pinnace manned by -thieving Indians, and closes with the War of 1812. -The noteworthy features of the book are accuracy, -independence, severity of style, and freedom from -spread-eagleism. The brief <i>Chronicles of Cooperstown</i>, -written in a plain way, has the natural interest -attaching to the subject and the author.</p> - -<p><i>A Letter to his Countrymen</i>, partly autobiographical, -is absorbing in its bitter earnestness. -<i>The Travelling Bachelor</i> purports to be the letters -of a cosmopolite, a man of fifty, to various members<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span> -of his club, recounting his travels in the -United States. The book is historical, statistical, -argumentative. It treats of government, manners, -art, literature, of fashions in dress and of peculiarities -of speech. As an attempt on the part of a -man of strong prejudices to take an objective view -of his own country, it is singularly interesting. -Were its seven hundred closely printed pages -lightened with humor or relieved by any grace of -expression, <i>The Travelling Bachelor</i> would be a -vastly entertaining work.</p> - -<p><i>The American Democrat</i> is a collection of short -essays, forty-five in number, on the American republic, -liberty, parties, public opinion, property, -the press, demagogues, the decay of manners, individuality, -aristocrat and democrat, pronunciation, -slavery, etc., etc. The tone of the comments is -intentionally censorious, and often proves exasperating. -Having been long absent from America, -Cooper found himself to a certain degree ‘in the -situation of a foreigner in his own country.’ On -this account he was prepared to note peculiarities. -Praise and blame are mingled. <i>The American -Democrat</i> sets forth high ideals, as may be seen, for -example, in the suggestive essay on party. The -book is courageous but wanting in suavity.</p> - -<p><i>Sketches of Switzerland</i> and <i>Gleanings in Europe</i>, -comprising ten volumes in the original editions, -are studies of Continental and English life. They -contain a multitude of spirited, pungent, and true<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span> -observations. Lacking the ‘antiseptic of style,’ -the books are no longer read.</p> - -<p>Between 1845 and 1850 Cooper published eight -novels. Three of the eight, <i>Satanstoe</i>, <i>The Chainbearer</i>, -and <i>The Redskins</i>, are narratives supposed -to be drawn from the ‘Littlepage Manuscripts.’ -The first is not only the best, but is also one of the -most genial of all Cooper’s novels. Corny Littlepage -had attractive friends, such as the mettlesome -youth Guert Ten Eyck, a splendid specimen of -the free-handed, royally generous Dutch-American. -Jason Newcome, on the other hand, embodies -Cooper’s never latent hostility to New England. -The pictures of old days in New York and Albany -are brilliant and highly finished, and the encounter -with the Indians in Cooper’s most spirited vein.</p> - -<p><i>The Crater</i> is a history of the adventures of -Mark Woolston of Bristol, Bucks County, Pennsylvania, -who was shipwrecked on a volcanic island -in the Pacific, and with the able seaman Bob Betts -set himself to solve the problem of existence. -What with gardening, poultry-raising, boat-building, -tempests, earthquakes, exploration of neighboring -islands, colonization, savages, and pirates, -the book resolves itself into one of the infinite -variations of <i>Robinson Crusoe</i>. After twenty-nine -chapters of this sort of thing comes an absurd and -irrelevant conclusion.</p> - -<p>All the later novels, <i>Jack Tier</i>, <i>The Sea Lions</i>, -<i>Oak Openings</i>, and <i>The Ways of the Hour</i>, are hard<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span> -reading, yet the least happy of them has passages -betraying the master’s hand. <i>The Sea Lions</i> stands -out by virtue of the powerful descriptions of an -Antarctic winter; but neither Captain Spike’s mission -to the gulf, nor the revelation of fat, profane -Jack’s true station and sex, nor yet the malapropisms -of Mrs. Budd (she would say ‘It blew what -they call a Hyson in the Chinese seas’), can make -<i>Jack Tier</i> more than tolerable.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Cooper’s greatest achievements were his stories -of the sea and the forest. His real creations are -sailors, backwoodsmen, old soldiers, and Indians. -Whether his red men are conceived in the spirit -of modern ethnological science can matter but little -now. They are neither so close to Chateaubriand’s -idealized savage, nor so far from the real -Indian as is generally believed. That Cooper had -no skill in representing contemporary society is -plain enough; but the failure of <i>Home as Found</i> -need not have been as complete as it was. Haste -and anger must bear the blame of that literary -disaster. Where he deals with manners of the -past, as in <i>Satanstoe</i>, he is often most felicitous. -With his novel of <i>The Bravo</i> he was in line with -the Romantic movement. How far he comprehended -that movement, or was influenced by it, -is a more intricate problem.</p> - -<p>Modern literature can show but few authors -more popular than Cooper. He has been praised<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span> -extravagantly; but the fact that Miss Mitford -thought him as good as Scott ought not to prejudice -us against him. And he has been damned -without measure; but over against Mark Twain’s -unchivalrous attack on his great fellow countryman -may be set the royally generous tributes of -Balzac and of Dumas.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="fnanchor">7</a> Judge Cooper’s <i>A Guide in the Wilderness</i>, Dublin, 1810, -was reprinted in 1897 with an introduction by J. F. Cooper -[the Younger], throwing much light on the manners of the times -and the character of his ancestor.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="fnanchor">8</a> One of the most extraordinary of the suits arose from criticism -of the <i>Naval History</i>. Cooper had refused to take the popular -side of a heated controversy and to join in assailing Elliott, -Perry’s second in command at the Battle of Lake Erie. The -suit, against Stone of the ‘Commercial Advertiser,’ was settled -by arbitration, and in Cooper’s favor. Lounsbury’s <i>Cooper</i>, pp. -200–230.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="fnanchor">9</a> Park Theatre, New York, March, 1822.</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span></p><div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="fnanchor">10</a> Burton’s Theatre, New York, June, 1850.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_4" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="IV">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>George Bancroft</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>W. M. Sloane</b>: ‘George Bancroft in Society, in Politics, -in Letters,’ ‘The Century Magazine,’ January, 1887.</p> - -<p><b>S. S. Green</b>: ‘George Bancroft,’ <i>Proceedings of the American -Antiquarian Society</i>, April 29, 1891.</p> - -<p><b>A. McF. Davis</b>: ‘George Bancroft,’ <i>Proceedings of the -American Academy of Arts and Sciences</i>, vol. xxvi, 1891.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_21">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> Bancrofts have been settled in America -since 1632. Among the historian’s ancestors -were men of marked traits of character. Bancroft’s -grandfather, a farmer of Essex County, Massachusetts, -had such a reputation for piety and judgment -that he was called on to act as an umpire in -the bitter dispute between Jonathan Edwards and -his church at Northampton.</p> - -<p>The father of the historian, Aaron Bancroft, a -pioneer of American Unitarianism, was for fifty -years pastor of the Second Church of Worcester. -His distinguishing trait was ‘a deep-seated abhorrence -of anything like mental slavery.’ He was -an ardent student of American history and the author -of an <i>Essay on the Life of George Washington</i><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span> -(1807), a popular book in its own day and well worth -the reading in ours. George Bancroft thought ‘that -his own inclination toward history was due very -much to the influence of his father.’</p> - -<p>There is a story (probably apocryphal) that -in his youth Aaron Bancroft fought at Lexington -and Bunker Hill. During Shays’s Rebellion, when -the insurgent officers proposed to quarter themselves -in private houses at Worcester, the minister -guarded his own door and told a group of officers -who approached that they were rebels, and that -‘they would obtain no entrance to his house but -by violence.’ The officers immediately rode away.</p> - -<p>George Bancroft was born at Worcester on -October 3, 1800. He prepared for college at Phillips -Academy, Exeter, New Hampshire, and was -graduated at Harvard in 1817. Edward Everett, -the newly appointed professor of Greek, who was -then studying at Göttingen, urged President Kirkland -to send some graduate of marked powers to -Germany with a view to his preparing himself to -teach at Harvard. The choice fell on Bancroft. -He spent two years at Göttingen and obtained his -doctorate. Among his professors were Heeren, -Dissen, Eichhorn, and Blumenbach; Heeren’s influence -was the most profound and the most lasting. -His range of studies was wide, including, as it -did, history, German literature, Greek philosophy, -natural history, Scripture interpretation, Arabic, -Syriac, and Persian.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span></p> - -<p>From Göttingen, Bancroft went to Berlin, where -he heard the lectures of Savigny, Schleiermacher, -and Hegel, and made the acquaintance of Voss, -W. von Humboldt, and F. A. Wolf. He had the -fortune to meet Goethe once at Jena, and again at -Weimar. After leaving Berlin he studied for a -time at Heidelberg under Von Schlosser. In Paris -he met Cousin, Constant, and A. von Humboldt. -He travelled in Switzerland and Italy, and spent -the winter of 1821–22 at Rome, where he made -the acquaintance of Niebuhr and Bunsen. At Leghorn -the following spring he was one of a party of -Americans who gathered to meet Byron when the -poet visited the ‘Constitution,’ the flagship of the -American squadron. Bancroft afterwards called on -Byron at Montenero, and was presented to the -Countess Guiccioli.</p> - -<p>In the fall of 1822 Bancroft became a tutor of -Greek at Harvard. The following year he resigned -his position, not to enter the ministry in accordance -with his father’s wishes, but to become a -schoolmaster. He joined his friend, Joseph G. -Cogswell (the directing spirit in the enterprise), -in founding a school for boys at Round Hill, -Northampton. Emerson, then a youth of twenty, -heard Bancroft preach at the ‘New South’ in Boston -soon after his return from Germany, and was -‘delighted with his eloquence.’ ‘He needs a great -deal of cutting and pruning, but we think him an -infant Hercules.’ Emerson deplored Bancroft’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span> -new departure, ‘because good schoolmasters are -as plenty as whortleberries, but good ministers -assuredly are not, and Bancroft might be one of -the best.’</p> - -<p>On the eve of leaving Cambridge, Bancroft -published, under the title of <i>Poems</i>, a volume of -correct if not inspired verse. At Northampton -his literary activity found more sober expression -in text-books, in papers for the ‘North American -Review’ and Walsh’s ‘American Quarterly,’ and -in a careful translation of Heeren’s <i>Politics of Ancient -Greece</i> (1824). At the celebration of Independence -Day at Northampton in 1826, Bancroft -was the orator. He chanted the present glory of -America, predicted a golden future, and declared -his faith in a ‘determined uncompromising democracy.’ -These notes were to be heard again and -often in his great history.</p> - -<p>Round Hill, though prosperous in many ways, -was not a success financially, nor were the partners -wholly congenial. After seven years Bancroft withdrew -from the school and began writing the book -on which his fame rests. In 1834 appeared the -first volume of <i>A History of the United States from -the discovery of the American continent to the present -time</i>. The second volume was published in 1837, -the third in 1840.</p> - -<p>The historian removed to Springfield and became -prominent in state politics. He was an ardent -Democrat and a strong opponent of slavery.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span> -Elected without his knowledge to the legislature, -he refused to take his seat; he also declined a -nomination to the senate. It is said that he took -this attitude with respect to office-holding out of -deference to the feelings of his wife, Sarah (Dwight) -Bancroft, who came of a prominent Whig family. -Mrs. Bancroft died in 1837.<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">11</a> Appointed Collector -of the Port of Boston by President Van Buren, -Bancroft held the office from 1838 to 1841, and -administered its affairs with a thoroughness theretofore -unknown, and in a way incidentally to reflect -great credit on the profession of letters.</p> - -<p>In 1844 Bancroft was the Democratic candidate -for governor of Massachusetts and polled a large -vote, but was defeated by George N. Briggs. A -year later he became Secretary of the Navy under -President Polk. In the exercise of his duties he -gave the order to take possession of California, and -as acting Secretary of War the order to General -Taylor to occupy Texas.</p> - -<p>During his secretaryship Bancroft founded the -United States Naval Academy at Annapolis. This -he brought about not by asking Congress to authorize -its establishment, but by so interpreting -the powers granted him under the law that he was -able to set in operation a school for the training of -midshipmen and offer it to Congress for approval. -Once the school was established and its usefulness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span> -proved, there was no difficulty in securing funds -for adequate equipment. The Academy was formally -opened on October 10, 1845.</p> - -<p>From 1846 to 1849 Bancroft was minister to -England. There were important diplomatic problems -to be solved, but his triumphs were chiefly -literary and social. He accumulated a rich store of -documents, and on his return to America made -his home in New York and devoted himself anew -to the <i>History</i>.<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">12</a> The fourth volume appeared in -1852; the fifth in 1853; the sixth in 1854; the -seventh in 1858; the eighth in 1860; the ninth in -1866; the tenth and concluding volume in 1874. -His <i>Literary and Historical Miscellanies</i> appeared -in 1855.</p> - -<p>When the New York Historical Society celebrated -the close of the first half-century of its existence -(1854), Bancroft was the orator. His address -on that occasion, ‘The Necessity, the Reality, -and the Promise of the Progress of the Human -Race,’ has been pronounced the best exposition -of his historical creed.<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">13</a></p> - -<p>Bancroft was a strong Union man and during the -Civil War acted with the Republican party. He -declined a nomination to Congress from the eighth -district of New York (October, 1862), on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span> -ground that a multiplication of candidates would -leave the result very much to chance; there should -be a union, he urged, of all those ‘who feel deeply -for their country in this her hour of peril.’ At -the close of the war he was chosen to pronounce -the eulogy on Lincoln before Congress (February, -1866).</p> - -<p>President Johnson, in 1867, appointed Bancroft -minister to Prussia. Later he was accredited to the -North German Confederation, and in 1872, following -current political changes, to the German -Empire. He brought about that notable treaty -whereby Germans who had become citizens of the -United States were freed from allegiance to the -land of their birth. Never before by a ‘formal act’ -had the principle of ‘renunciation of citizenship at -‘the will of the individual been recognized.’ England -followed Germany’s example and gave over -her claim of indefeasible allegiance. Another diplomatic -triumph was the settlement of the North-western -boundary dispute. While in Germany -Bancroft celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of his -graduation at Göttingen. The University gave -him an honorary degree, and congratulations were -showered on him from scholars, statesmen, princes, -and men of letters.</p> - -<p>After nearly eight years of service Bancroft was -recalled from the German mission at his own request. -He lived in Washington during the winter -months and spent the summers at Newport as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span> -had long been his habit. The work of his later -years included two revisions of the <i>History</i> (1876 -and 1884), a <i>History of the Formation of the Constitution -of the United States</i> (1882), <i>A Plea for -the Constitution of the United States of America, -wounded in the House of its Guardians</i> (1886), and -a sketch of the public life of Martin Van Buren -(1889).</p> - -<p>Bancroft died in Washington on January 17, -1891.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_22">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Bancroft’s</span> character was fashioned on a large -scale. His mental horizon was broad, his power -to plan and carry out a vast undertaking was commensurate -with the reach of his vision. There was -little in his habit of thought to suggest the narrowness -so often associated with the name of scholar. -Yet he had the infinitely laborious powers of -the mere scholar. He could toil with unflagging -energy day by day or year by year.</p> - -<p>The magisterial note in his historical writings is -due not alone to the subject or to the literary manner, -but also to the deliberate tenacity of purpose -with which the historian wrought. Such a work is -the product, not of feverish spasms of intellectual -activity, but of even and steady effort.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span></p> - -<p>Bancroft has been accused of a want of enthusiasm -in receiving critical observations on his work. -It is a question whether historians (more than philosophers) -are wont to receive with rapture proofs -that they are possibly in the wrong. Bancroft’s -tone of controversy is perhaps less peculiar to himself -than is commonly asserted. However, it must -be kept in mind that he had a ‘strong nervous -personality.’</p> - -<p>Emerson described the greeting he had from -Bancroft in London. When he presented himself -at the minister’s door, ‘it was opened by Mr. Bancroft -himself in the midst of servants whom that -man of eager manners thrust aside, saying that he -would open his own door for me. He was full of -goodness and talk.’ Other accounts of him give -an impression of much stateliness of manner tempered -by affability. Still others convey the idea -that he was always artificial, and sometimes playful -with a playfulness that bordered on frivolity. -A friend<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">14</a> professed to detect in Bancroft’s bearing -marks of the man of letters, diplomat, politician, -preacher and pedagogue, one trait superimposed -on another. But the blend of characteristics was -charming.<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">15</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_23">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE WRITER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> charge brought against Bancroft of having -embellished his themes with ‘cheap rhetoric’ is -unjust. Rhetorical the historian undoubtedly was, -but the rhetoric was not cheap. It had the merit -of sincerity; it was the result of an honest effort -to present important facts and comments in becoming -garb.</p> - -<p>In 1834 the style thought appropriate to historical -writing was markedly oratorical. Historians -addressed their readers. A pomp of expression, -something almost liturgical, was held seemly if not -indeed of last importance. Reading their works, -one involuntarily calls up a vision of grave gentlemen -in much-wrinkled frock-coats, making stilted -gestures, and looking even more unreal than their -statues which now terrify posterity. Bancroft was -affected by the prevailing drift towards oratorical -forms. At times one is tempted to exclaim: ‘This -was not meant to be read but to be heard.’</p> - -<p>Take for example this passage on Sebastian -Cabot: ‘He lived to an extreme old age and loved -his profession to the last; in the hour of death -his wandering thoughts were upon the ocean. -The discoverer of the territory of our country was -one of the most extraordinary men of his age;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span> -there is deep cause for regret that time has spared -so few memorials of his career. Himself incapable -of jealousy, he did not escape detraction. He -gave England a continent, and no one knows his -burial place.’</p> - -<p>Not to enter into the question whether this is -good, or indifferent, or even bad writing, it is sufficient -to note that the passage in question belongs -to spoken discourse rather than to literature. It -appeals to us, if at all, through the medium of the -ear rather than the eye.</p> - -<p>Take for another example the comparison of -Puritan and Cavalier: Historians have loved to -eulogize ‘the manners and virtues, the glory and -the benefits of chivalry. Puritanism accomplished -for mankind far more. If it had the sectarian -crime of intolerance, chivalry had the vices of -dissoluteness. The knights were brave from gallantry -of spirit; the puritans from the fear of God. -The knights were proud of loyalty, the puritans -of liberty. The knights did homage to monarchs, -in whose smile they beheld honor, whose rebuke -was the wound of disgrace; the puritans, disdaining -ceremony, would not bend the knee to the -King of kings. The former valued courtesy; the -latter justice. The former adorned society by -graceful refinements; the latter founded national -grandeur on universal education. The institutions -of chivalry were subverted by the gradually -increasing weight, and knowledge, and opulence,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span> -of the industrious classes; the puritans, relying -on those classes, planted in their hearts the undying -principles of democratic liberty.’</p> - -<p>Passages such as these are often employed as a -rhetorical flourish at the end of a chapter. They -are analogous to what actors call ‘making a good -exit.’ In Bancroft they constitute for pages together -the prevailing rather than the exceptional -form. The reader, whether conscious of it or not, -is kept on a strain. At last he grows uncomfortable. -He wishes the historian would cease to declaim, -would come down from the rostrum, throw -aside his academic robes, and be neighborly and -familiar.</p> - -<p>This <i>History</i> was so long in the writing that -Bancroft’s style changed materially. The opinion -prevails that his diction improved as the work proceeded, -that the later volumes are uniformly less -inflated, strained, and ‘eloquent’ than the earlier -ones. It is true that he made innumerable revisions -of the text. The changes were not always -improvements. Sometimes in rewriting a sentence -he made it less energetic. Strong expressions were -softened. A plain old-fashioned word would be -taken out; often it carried the whole phrase with -it. Whether the literary or the historical sense -dictated the change in question cannot always be -determined.</p> - -<p>Bancroft’s diction is manly and forceful, but it -lacks natural grace and suppleness; it is flexible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span> -as chain armor is flexible, but not as is the human -body. It may be doubted whether he is ever -read for literary pleasure. Nevertheless, scattered -through these twelve volumes are hundreds of -passages well worth the study of those who enjoy -an exhibition of mastery in the use of words.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_24">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>THE HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">One</span> does well to read Bancroft in the tall, wide-margined, -and almost sumptuous volumes of the -original editions. The page is open and inviting. -Both text and notes have a personal flavor very -diverting at times. There is no question as to the -usefulness of an attractive page in works of this -sort. Political histories should be made easy, not -by picture-book methods, but by the legitimate -arts of good printing.</p> - -<p>The work is generously planned. Twelve octavo -volumes are required to bring the narrative down -to the ratification of the constitution.<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">16</a> Three volumes, -comprising nearly fifteen hundred pages, are -given to the Colonial period alone.</p> - -<p>Bancroft announced his theory of historical writing -in the preface of 1834. He was to be controlled<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span> -always by ‘the principles of historical scepticism,’ -and his narrative was to be drawn ‘from writings -and sources which were contemporaries of the -events that are described.’ Nothing commonly -supposed to belong to American history was to be -retained merely because it had been unchallenged -by former historians.</p> - -<p>The treatment, as shown in these volumes on -the Colonial period, is in perfect accord with the -author’s conception of the dignity of the subject. -The matter is as stately as the manner. Bancroft -writes history as a lord high chamberlain conducts -a court function. He feels that during the ceremony -of discovering a world and planting a nation -there should be no unseemliness, certainly no -laughter or disturbance.</p> - -<p>The characters go through their evolutions like -well-drilled courtiers. So stately are they as to -appear scarce human. Homely and familiar traits -are almost completely suppressed. The founders -of America, as we see them looming in the pages of -Bancroft, are not men but incarnate ideas. They -are the embodiment of principles and virtues. -Winthrop is enlightened conservatism, Vane is -generous impetuosity, Roger Williams is liberty -of conscience. Strive how we will to bring these -men nearer, to make them tangible, the effort is -not wholly successful. These figures of the past, -like the characters of a morality-play, persist in -remaining personified ideas.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span></p> - -<p>As a reaction against ‘classical’ history comes -history of the gossiping school. ‘Thanks to you,’ -said Brunetière, welcoming Masson to the French -Academy, ‘we now know the exact number of -Napoleon’s shirts.’ Bancroft was not interested -in the spindles and shoe-buckles of the Puritans. -Many people are, but they must find elsewhere -the gratification they seek. Whoever wishes at any -time absolutely to escape anecdotage, homely detail, -and piquant gossip, has it always in his power -to do so; he can read Bancroft’s three volumes on -the Colonial period and dwell among abstractions.</p> - -<p>Even if not at this stage of his career the most -human of writers, Bancroft is a comforting historian -to return to, after having dwelt for a while with -those who instruct us how low and mercenary in -motive, how impervious to liberal ideas, were the -men who planted English civilization in America. -Historical iconoclasts all, they are frightfully convincing. -Some of their arguments lose a degree of -force as it dawns on the reader that Seventeenth-century -men are being judged by Nineteenth-century -standards. When Bancroft wrote, the habit -of abusing the ancestors had not become deep-seated.</p> - -<p>Turning from the Colonial period, the historian -takes up the period of the American Revolution. -Seven volumes are required for telling the story. -The logical arrangement is by ‘epochs.’ They are -four in number: ‘Overthrow of the European<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span> -Colonial system,’ ‘How Great Britain estranged -America,’ ‘America declares itself independent,’ -‘The Independence of America is acknowledged.’<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">17</a></p> - -<p>General histories must treat of many things, the -doings of authorized and representative assemblies -and the doings of the mob, skirmishes, battles by -land and sea, diplomatic intrigues, party combinations, -political and military plots, the characters of -the actors in the historic drama, and the setting -of the stage on which they played. While doing -all parts of his task with workmanlike skill, a historian -will be found to excel in this thing or in -that. Bancroft’s accounts of military operations are -always clear, energetic, and often extremely readable. -He could not, like Irving, ‘render you a -fearful battle in music,’ but he never made the -mistake of supposing that he could. He had not -the graphical power of Parkman, but he had enough -for his purposes.</p> - -<p>His character sketches of the men who figured -in the struggles for American independence are -among the best parts of his writing. The patriots -and their friends in England and on the Continent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span> -are too uniformly creatures of light, but their opponents -are not represented as necessarily creatures -of darkness. If Bancroft could be more than fair -to his own side, he was incapable of being wholly -unfair to the other. His tendency is to regard -human character as all of a piece, fixed rather than -fluctuating. Men (politicians included) have been -known to grow in virtue as they grow in years. -Bancroft was over complacent in his attitude towards -frenzied impromptu Revolutionary gatherings -whose motives could not always have been -so guiltlessly patriotic and disinterested as he represents -them.<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">18</a> He was but little versed in the -psychology of mobs.</p> - -<p>Forceful at all points, Bancroft was singularly -impressive in dealing with history as it is made in -parliaments and conventions, in council chambers, -cabinets, and courts of law. He was born to grapple -with whole state paper offices. He knew the -secret of subordinating a vast amount of detail -to his main purpose. An important part of the -American Revolution took place in Europe. Bancroft’s -capital merit consists in his having brought -the event into its largest relations. The story as -he told it did not merely concern the uprising of -a few petty quarrelsome colonies, it became an important<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span> -chapter in the history of liberty. Not for -an instant did he permit himself to lose sight of that -‘idea of continuity which gives vitality to history.’</p> - -<p>It is wonderful how through these seven volumes -everything bends to one idea; how it all -becomes part of a demonstration, a detail in the -history of that spirit which, acting through discontent, -led first to local outbreak and resistance, then -to concerted action and war, and finally to the birth -of a new nation.</p> - -<p>The crown of Bancroft’s work is the story of how -the states parted with so much of their individuality -as stood in the way of union, and then united. Two -volumes would seem to afford room for full and -leisurely treatment. But in fact the historian only -accomplished his task by enormous compression. -Often the substance of a speech had to be given in -a sentence, and the deliberations of days in a few -paragraphs. The marshalling of facts, the grasp of -the subject in detail and as a whole, are extraordinary. -Bancroft notes what forces led to union -and what opposed it. He marks the shifting of -public sentiment, the trembling of the balance, -but he grants himself few privileges of the sort -called literary. Seldom dramatic or picturesque -in this portion of his narrative, he is at all times -logically exact and magisterial.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>There is a peculiar fitness in the word ‘monumental’ -applied to Bancroft’s work. It has solidity,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span> -strength, durability, a massive and stately grandeur. -It is a book which the modern reader finds -it easy to neglect; but he puts it in his library and -never fails to commend it to his friends, with a -hypocritical expression of surprise at their not being -better acquainted with it. The truth is, we are -spoiled by more attractive historians. Macaulay, -Froude, and Parkman have made us indolent, -fond of verbal comforts and disinclined to effort. -We demand not only to be instructed but to be -vastly entertained at the same time. Bancroft certainly -instructs; it would be difficult to prove that -he also entertains.</p> - -<p>His tone of confident eulogy is often condemned. -On the whole, this is a merit rather than a fault. -Doubtless he admired too uniformly and too much. -Many writers have taken pleasure in showing that -his admiration was misplaced. And thus a balance -is kept. It is a fortunate thing for American literature -that Bancroft’s vast work, destined to so wide -an influence, and the fruit of such immense labor, -should have been conceived and written in a generous -and hopeful spirit. The English reviewer who -on the appearance of the first volume praised the -historian because he was ‘so fearlessly honest and -impartial’ might also have praised him because -he was so fearlessly optimistic. This too requires -courage.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="fnanchor">11</a> Bancroft was twice married. His second wife was Mrs. -Elisabeth (Davis) Bliss.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="fnanchor">12</a> For an account of the privileges he enjoyed in making his collections -see <i>Winsor’s Narrative and Critical History of America</i>, -vol. viii, p. 477.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="fnanchor">13</a> W. M. Sloane.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="fnanchor">14</a> T. W. Higginson in ‘The Nation,’ January, 1891.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="fnanchor">15</a> Bancroft’s characteristics as a young man are admirably -brought out in the recently printed selection from his letters and -journals, edited by M. A. DeWolfe Howe. ‘Scribner’s Magazine,’ -September and October, 1905.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="fnanchor">16</a> Two volumes of the original edition correspond to one volume -of the ‘author’s last revision,’ 1883–85.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="fnanchor">17</a> In the ‘last revision’ Epoch Four is divided into unequal parts -and the titles are reworded: Epoch first, ‘Britain overthrows the -European colonial system,’ 1748–63; Epoch second, ‘Britain -estranges America,’ 1763–74; Epoch third, ‘America takes up -arms for self-defence and arrives at independence,’ 1774–76; -Epoch fourth, ‘America in alliance with France,’ 1776—80; -Epoch fifth, ‘The People of America take their equal station -among the powers of the earth,’ 1780 to December, 1782.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="fnanchor">18</a> J. F. Jameson speaks of Bancroft’s ‘tendency to conventionalize, -to compose his American populations of highly virtuous -Noah’s-ark men.’ <i>History of Historical Writing in America</i>, -1891, p. 108.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_5" class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="V">V<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>William Hickling Prescott</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>George Ticknor</b>: <i>Life of William Hickling Prescott</i>, 1864.</p> - -<p><b>Rollo Ogden</b>: <i>William Hickling Prescott</i>, ‘American Men -of Letters,’ 1904.</p> - -<p><b>H. T. Peck</b>: <i>William Hickling Prescott</i>, ‘English Men -of Letters,’ 1905.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_25">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> Prescotts are an ancient family as antiquity -is reckoned in the United States. The first -Anglo-American of that name, John Prescott, an -old Cromwellian soldier, took up residence in this -country about 1640, and after living awhile at -Watertown, Massachusetts, made a permanent -home for himself at Lancaster, then a frontier settlement. -When thieving Indians plundered him, -it is said that he used to put on helmet, gorget, -and cuirass, and start in pursuit. Being a powerful -man and stern of countenance, his terrific appearance -in his armor had a salutary effect on the -red men.</p> - -<p>Jonas Prescott, a son of the old warrior, settled -at Groton, Massachusetts, and there the family -history centres for more than a hundred years.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span> -They were a vigorous race, useful and conspicuous -in the military and civil affairs of the colony.</p> - -<p>William Hickling Prescott, the historian, was -born in Salem, Massachusetts, on May 4, 1796. -His father, Judge William Prescott, was a man -of eminent abilities, esteemed for his great legal -acquirements and beloved for his personal worth. -His mother, Catharine Hickling, a daughter of -Thomas Hickling of Boston, was distinguished -for energy and benevolence, as well as for a certain -gayety of temperament, a trait which she transmitted -to her famous son. The grandfather of the -historian was Colonel William Prescott, founder -of the town of Pepperell, who, on the night of -June 16, 1775, with his force of a thousand men, -threw up a redoubt on Bunker (Breed’s) Hill, and -on the following day defended it until defence was -no longer possible.</p> - -<p>Prescott was drilled in the classics by one of old -Parr’s pupils, the Reverend Doctor John Gardiner, -rector of Trinity Church, Boston. He was an insatiable -reader of books; but it were idle to assume -that his interest in Spanish history and literature -took its first impulse, as has been asserted, from -the reading of Southey’s translation of <i>Amadis of -Gaul</i>.</p> - -<p>He entered Harvard College in the Sophomore -year and was graduated in 1814. A misfortune -befell him early in his course which changed his -whole life and made enormous demands on his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span> -philosophy and courage. In one of the frolics attending -the breaking up of commons, when small -missiles were flying about the room, Prescott was -struck full in the left eye with a hard crust of -bread. The sight was instantly destroyed, and he -lived for years in apprehension of what, fortunately, -never overtook him, total blindness.</p> - -<p>He began the study of law, but illness and consequent -weakening of the power of vision put an -end to it. In search of health and diversion he -went abroad. After spending some months in the -Azores, in the family of his maternal grandfather, -Thomas Hickling, then United States consul at -St. Michael’s, he visited Italy, France, and England. -In London he consulted eminent oculists, -who were able, however, to give him but little -encouragement.</p> - -<p>Shortly after his return home he married Miss -Susan Amory of Boston, whose maternal grandfather, -Captain Linzee, was in command of a British -sloop of war at the outbreak of the Revolution, -and had cannonaded the redoubt on Bunker Hill. -In 1821 Prescott planned a course of literary study. -Beginning oddly enough with grammars and rhetorics, -he followed this preliminary reading with a -wide survey first of English literature, then of -French and Italian. German he tried and gave -up. With his enfeebled sight he could do but -little of the actual reading for himself; the bulk -of it had to be done for him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span></p> - -<p>Prescott’s literary life was peculiar in that he -prepared himself to become a man of letters with -no definite conception of what he would write -about. He was not, like the literary heroes of -whom we read, so possessed of his subject from -boyhood that all the ancient neighbors distinctly -recall early evidences of his predilection. His first -impulse towards the studies in which he won renown -came from George Ticknor. To help Prescott -pass away his time Ticknor read to his friend -the lectures he had been giving to advanced classes -at Harvard, lectures which formed the basis of his -<i>History of Spanish Literature</i>. This was in 1824. -Prescott became enthusiastic over the study of the -Spanish language and history. A year later he was -thinking what brilliant passages might be written -on the Inquisition, the Conquest of Granada, and -the exploits of the Great Captain. After balancing -Italian and Spanish subjects against each other, -he decided, not without misgivings, on a history -of Ferdinand and Isabella, and early in 1826 -wrote to Alexander H. Everett, United States -minister at Madrid, asking his help in collecting -materials.</p> - -<p>Three and a half years of study preceded the -writing of the first chapter; ten and a half years -in all were required to make the book. Its enthusiastic -reception from scholars and public alike -led Prescott to take up cognate subjects. The list -of his writings is brief, but, taking into account<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span> -the difficulties involved, one may say without exaggeration -that Prescott’s historical works represent -a labor little short of titanic.</p> - -<p>The <i>History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella -the Catholic</i> appeared in 1837. It was followed -by <i>The Conquest of Mexico</i>, 1843; <i>Critical -and Historical Essays</i>, 1845 (consisting chiefly of -papers reprinted from the ‘North American Review’); -<i>The Conquest of Peru</i>, 1847; <i>The History -of Philip the Second</i>, 1855 (left unfinished at the -author’s death). To this list of important works -may be added a brief continuation of Robertson’s -<i>Charles the Fifth</i>, and a <i>Memoir of Abbott Lawrence</i>.</p> - -<p>Prescott’s life was without marked external incident. -His surroundings were ideal. Having inherited -a fortune, he could give himself to toilsome -literary undertakings with no care for the financial -result. He took satisfaction in the thought of -having refuted Johnson’s dictum that no man could -write history unless he had good eyes.</p> - -<p>Early in 1858 Prescott was stricken with apoplexy, -but so far recovered as to be able to resume -work on the <i>History of Philip the Second</i>. A second -attack (January 27, 1859) ended in his death.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_26">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">PRESCOTT’S CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">To</span> those who knew him in varying degrees of -intimacy, whether as friends, neighbors, or chance -acquaintance, Prescott seemed the incarnation of -urbanity, thoughtfulness, good humor. To us who -know him only through the story of his life he -seems notable for his heroic qualities.</p> - -<p>He had enormous courage and force of will. -That other men have performed great tasks under -like difficulties cannot lessen the glory of his individual -achievement. Handicapped by partial -blindness, he wrote history, a type of literature -which makes the most exacting demands on the -physical powers.</p> - -<p>Had Prescott’s genius inclined him towards -poetry or fiction, the heroic element in his literary -life would have been less noteworthy. In general -a novelist is not expected to read; what is chiefly -required of him in the way of preparation is, that -he shall observe, feel, and occasionally think—but -not read; much reading makes a dull story-teller. -The novelist gleans material as he walks -the street. For his purpose an hour of talk with -‘a set of wretched un-idea’d girls,’ as Doctor Johnson -half affectionately, half pettishly, called them, -is worth ten hours over a book. History is another<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span> -matter. The historian must often read a -thousand pages in order to write one. And the -work of preparation is indescribably exhausting; -there is so much detail to set in order, so many -documents to be consulted, such a wilderness of -notes to be arranged, compared, and fitted into -place. The task, difficult under the best conditions, -must seem endless to any one with an imperfect -sense.</p> - -<p>A man with good eye-sight is like a man with -the free use of his legs, he goes where he pleases. -But a scholar with defective vision is an invalid -in a wheeled chair. Prescott, being denied one of -the greatest conveniences of study, was forced to -try expedients. With most writers pen and ink -are an indispensable aid to composition. Prescott -used memory instead. Not only was the knowledge -accumulated, arranged, and weighed, but it -was put into literary form, the paragraphs measured -and the sentences polished before the actual -writing was begun. Prescott often carried in his -head, for days at a time, the equivalent of sixty -pages of printed text, and on occasion, seventy-five -pages. Only by reflecting on the difficulties met and -overcome can the amateur of literature arrive at a -conception of Prescott’s indomitable courage.</p> - -<p>Add to force and persistency of purpose another -notable trait, a passion for nobility of character. -Prescott, unwearied in self-examination, studied -his own moral nature as he studied the pages of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span> -his manuscript, that he might weed out the faults. -The methods he employed to this end were often -whimsical, and even childlike; but in their touching -simplicity lies the best proof of the genuineness -of the motive that prompted them.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_27">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE WRITER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Prescott</span> gave unusual measure of time and -thought to the problem of expression. With a -view to grounding himself in the technical part -of literature, he invoked the aid of those now forgotten -worthies, Lindley Murray and Hugh Blair—how -greatly to his advantage would be difficult -to say. Books of this sort are so often disfigured -by a vicious or, what is worse, a commonplace -style that it is a question whether one does not -lose by example all that he gains by precept.</p> - -<p>Escaping these influences, Prescott took up the -chief English authors, beginning with Ascham, -Sidney, Bacon, Browne, Raleigh, and Milton. -His mind was constantly on the alert to discover -by what means these masters produced their effects. -His journals show how painstaking he was -in these studies, with what intense interest he -turned the problem of the art of expression over -and over in his mind.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span></p> - -<p>When he came to print, it was observed first -of all that he had a ‘style.’ The self-conscious -literary workman was plainly visible. Prescott -had evidently aimed to produce certain effects -through the balance of his periods, the choice of -his words, the length and structure of his sentences. -Every one said: ‘He is an artist.’ Praise -could not have been more aptly bestowed. Among -many eminent artists in words Prescott was one of -the most conscientious.</p> - -<p>But the literary style of the <i>Ferdinand and Isabella</i> -had the defect of being too apparent. One -often found himself taking note of the manner of -expression before he took note of the thought. -The panoply of words glittered from afar. It was -brilliant but metallic, magnificent but artificial.</p> - -<p>The criticism of his first book taught Prescott -the futility of worrying about style—after one -has worried sufficiently. He was no less anxious -to improve; he noted the mannerisms into which -he had fallen, resolved to correct them, and that -was the conclusion of the whole matter. He -stopped dwelling overmuch on the fashion of his -writing, and at once gained in ease and naturalness. -After ten years of labor he had mastered -the materials of his art. His workmanship improved -to the last. The volumes of the <i>History -of Philip the Second</i> have literary characteristics so -gracious as to add sharpness to the regret that this -noble work had to be left unfinished.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_28">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE HISTORIES</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> <i>Ferdinand and Isabella</i> is not a formidable -book for size. A timid reader, shrinking from -fifteen hundred pages of any literature but fiction, -need not fear mortgaging too much of his time in -the perusal. Compared with a reading of Freeman’s -<i>Norman Conquest</i> or Carlyle’s <i>Frederick</i>, his -task is light.</p> - -<p>In an introductory section Prescott traces the -growth of Castile and Aragon, with their dependencies, -up to the time when Ferdinand and Isabella -come on the stage of history. Perhaps there -is a lack of detail here and there. One would like -to know the steps of the process by which the -Spaniards regained the territory from which they -had been driven by the Saracenic invasion of the -Eighth Century. Bitter as were the jealousies and -quarrels of the various petty states, they made -common cause against the Mohammedans. They -hated the hereditary enemy both as infidels and -usurpers. Hatred fostered the national spirit.</p> - -<p>The history proper is divided into two parts. -The first has chiefly to do with the internal policy -of Ferdinand and Isabella. It was the period when -law displaced anarchy. The law might be severe -or even unjust, but it was at all events law. Here<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span> -is shown how the power of the nobles was curbed, -warring factions pacified, banditti of all sorts kept -within bounds, and that too whether they lived -in castles or lurked in dark corners, heresy suppressed -in a truly rigorous fashion, above all the -national ideal strengthened. To use a homely -figure, Ferdinand and Isabella took up the problem -of national housekeeping and handled it as it -had never been handled before. A reign of order -and economy was inaugurated. Thieving servants -were put under restraint or discharged, poachers -were apprehended, and the gypsies who had impudently -camped on the best part of the estates -were driven off. A government which for years -had run at loose ends was now under masterful -control.</p> - -<p>The second part illustrates the foreign policy -of the two monarchs. Having made a nation out -of an assemblage of turbulent states, Ferdinand -and Isabella were enabled to take a conspicuous -place among the sovereigns of Europe. By good -fortune in war and in discovery, by diplomatic -shrewdness and religious zeal, their influence was -felt throughout Europe and over the seas. Spain -was no longer isolated. Her name carried weight; -her will was respected.</p> - -<p>Much of the narrative proceeds by divisions -each of which might have been printed as a monograph. -A certain amount of space is given to the -Inquisition, so much to the war in Granada, so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span> -many chapters to the history of Columbus, so -many to the colonial policy, to the Italian wars, to -the life of Gonsalvo of Cordova, to the career of -Cardinal Ximenes.</p> - -<p>While in no sense neglecting the constitutional -side of the problems before him, the historian’s -bent is to the biographical and pictorial phases of -the reign. On these he dwells with satisfaction and -often in detail. To him history is a pageant. The -rich coloring of the period first attracted Prescott; -he can hardly be blamed for painting his canvas -in lively hues, for so he conceived the design. -Neutral tints and dull tones are wholly wanting. -The blackness of certain events only serves to bring -out in stronger relief the resplendent brightness -of virtuous acts and the goodness of noble characters. -Torquemada offsets Isabella; the cruelty -of war is forgotten in the splendor of chivalric -deeds.</p> - -<p>It is not a history of the people of Spain. The -people are not forgotten; the struggle of the commons -for recognition, for justice, for the right to -be themselves and express their individuality—these -things are taken into account. But the work -belongs rather to that older school of history which -concerns itself for the most part with wars and -royal progresses, with the intrigues of councillors, -the machinations of prelates, the rivalries of great -houses and powerful orders.</p> - -<p>The <i>History of the Conquest of Mexico</i> is of about<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span> -the same length as its predecessor. The narrative, -simpler in some ways and more vivacious in others, -is gorgeously colored throughout. Prescott was -disturbed by the picturesqueness of his own treatment. -‘Very like Miss Porter’ and ‘Rather -boarding schoolish finery’ were his comments on -certain chapters.</p> - -<p>The first of the seven ‘books’ into which the -work is divided contains an account of Aztec -civilization. Sixty years have elapsed since these -pages were written, during which time American -archæology has made great advances. That the -value of Prescott’s introduction is not wholly destroyed -is due to the healthy sceptical spirit which -controlled his work.</p> - -<p>The story has every element of romance. A -young Spanish gentleman, handsome, witty, daring, -an idler in college and a libertine, joins the -army of adventurers in the New World. For ten -or fifteen years he leads the life of men of his -class. He becomes a planter in Hayti and varies -the monotony of watching Indians till the soil by -suppressing insurrections of their brother Indians.</p> - -<p>He goes to Cuba as secretary to the governor -of that island, quarrels with his chief, makes his -peace, and quarrels with him again. Thrown repeatedly -into prison, he escapes with the ease of a -Baron Trenck. Reconciled to the governor, he is -appointed to lead an expedition into the newly -discovered kingdom of Mexico. On this venture<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span> -he stakes his every penny. With five hundred -soldiers he proposes to subdue the natives; two -priests go along to convert the natives as fast -as they are subdued. His sailors number one -hundred and ten; his pilot had served under -Columbus.</p> - -<p>Arriving on the coast, he secretly scuttles his -ships, all but one, that there may be no retreat, -and then begins that wonderful march to the great -city of the Aztecs. He fights by craft as well as -by physical force. The jealousy of mutually hostile -tribes helps to win his battles. Superstition -comes to his aid, for the Spaniards are thought to -be gods, and the horses they bestride carry terror -into the hearts of the natives.</p> - -<p>At length he makes his entry into the city of -flowers, and takes up his abode there, Cortés and -his little army of four hundred and fifty Spaniards, -with twice as many native allies, among sixty -thousand cannibals. Boldness marks every step -of his course. He seizes the native ‘king,’ suppresses -plots with rigor, and proves his divinity -by tearing down one of the sacrificial pyramids and -planting the cross in its stead. Leaving a lieutenant -in command, he hastens back to the seashore -to transact military business there. The lieutenant -precipitates a quarrel and slaughters Indians -by the hundred. Cortés returns and finds his work -must be done again. This time it is thoroughly -done. Every step of his progress is marked with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span> -blood, and the story of <i>la noche triste</i> and the -siege of Mexico are among the most romantic -passages in the history of the New World.</p> - -<p>In estimating men Prescott aimed to employ -the standard of their day. When Cortés lifts up -his hands, red with the blood of the miserable -natives, to return thanks to Heaven for victory, -the historian does not permit himself to forget -that this savage Spaniard was a typical soldier of -the Cross. ‘Whoever has read the correspondence -of Cortés, or, still more, has attended to -the circumstances of his career, will hardly doubt -that he would have been among the first to lay -down his life for the Faith.’ According to Prescott, -the charge of cruelty cannot be brought -against Cortés. ‘The path of the conqueror is -necessarily marked with blood. He was not too -scrupulous, indeed, in the execution of his plans. -He swept away the obstacles which lay in his -track; and his fame is darkened by the commission -of more than one act which his boldest -apologists will find it hard to vindicate. But he -was not wantonly cruel. He allowed no outrage -on his unresisting foes.’ The historian likens the -Spaniard to Hannibal in his endurance, his courage, -and his unpretentiousness.</p> - -<p>Later scholarship has assailed portions of <i>The -Conquest of Mexico</i> with needless asperity. Prescott -could hardly be expected to avail himself prophetically -of archæological facts not known until<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span> -thirty years after his time. Nor was his faith in -the early Spanish accounts of the Conquest quite -as childlike and uncritical as it is sometimes represented. -Historians are the most substantial of -men of letters; but they now and then build card -houses which topple down under the breath of a -single new fact. And they take a very human delight -in blowing over one another’s structures. -For which reason the reading of history is a fearful -joy, like skating on thin ice. The pleasure is -intense so long as nothing gives way. Perhaps -the layman is unreasonable in his demand for -knowledge that shall not require too frequent revision. -He can at least read for pleasure, hoping -that a part of what he reads is true, and holding -himself prepared to relinquish the parts he likes -best when the time comes.</p> - -<p>In the <i>History of the Conquest of Peru</i> the author -brings fresh proof that whatever may be said -of his morals, the Spanish soldier cannot be over-praised -for his valor. Pizarro was a marvel of -courage and endurance. Fanaticism, which explains -much in his character, does not explain where such -tremendous physical power came from. And he -had the true theatrical bravado of the Sixteenth-century -adventurer. Add to the native histrionic -gifts of the Latin race a special training, such as -life in the New World gave, and men like Ojeda, -Balboa, Cortés, and Pizarro come into existence -quite naturally. They did wonders in the coolest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span> -possible way, and with a fine sense of the pictorial -aspect of their undertakings. Pizarro, drawing a -line from east to west on the sand with his sword -and calling on his comrades to choose each man -what best becomes a brave Castilian (‘For my part -I go to the south’), is a figure for romantic drama. -An Englishman equally daring would have been -more or less awkward in a pose of this sort, but -the Spaniard was perfectly at home. Of what -clay were these men compounded that they could -imagine such exploits and succeed in them too?</p> - -<p>The performance of Pizarro was less splendid -than that of Cortés and the man himself less interesting. -The conqueror of Mexico was a gentleman; -not so the hard soldier who subdued the -kingdom of the Incas. His was a violent career, -steeped in blood, and ending in assassination. Not -only was Pizarro without fear, but of two courses -he seized upon the more dangerous as the better -suited to his genius. Too ignorant to sign his own -name, he could control not alone the brutal soldier -but as well the lawyer and the priest. Aside from -his masterfulness there was little to admire in his -character. Brute force excites wonder, but the -exhibition of it becomes wearisome at last. To -Prescott ‘the hazard assumed by Pizarro was far -greater than that of the Conqueror of Mexico.’ -Otherwise the man was a mere bungler upon whom -Fortune, with characteristic levity, chanced for a -time to smile. Prescott describes him in a sentence:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span> -‘Pizarro was eminently perfidious.’ Furthermore, -the conqueror of Peru was not original; he repeated -what he had learned from Balboa and -Cortés. Had he chanced upon a country less rich -and civilized, it may well be doubted whether -he would have made any considerable figure in -history. The argument from gold was entirely -conclusive in those days; just as at the present -time an undertaking is said to ‘succeed’ if it pays -financially. Manners have improved, but ideals of -‘success’ are pretty much what they were four -hundred years ago. When Pizarro extorted from -the wretched Atahualpa a promise to fill a room -twenty-two feet by seventeen to the height of nine -feet with gold, his place in history was assured. -The swineherd had become immortal.</p> - -<p>Strange is it that the name of Francisco Pizarro -should be a household word while that of his -brother Gonzalo is but little known and seldom -repeated. Yet there are few episodes in the history -of Spanish colonization more striking than the -story of Gonzalo Pizarro’s march across the Andes -and the discovery of the river Amazon. It is a -tale of horror and suffering to which only the pen -of a Defoe could do justice. Gonzalo not only -survived the fearful journey, but had strength -enough left to head a party for revolt against the -viceroy, Blasco Nuñez, and the execution of the -Ordinances. Like a true Pizarro, this conqueror -died a violent death. He was beheaded; it seemed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span> -the only fitting way for one of that family to take -his departure from life. The Pizarros used to behead -their victims and then show themselves conspicuously -at the funeral. When it came their turn -to die, they were treated with scantier courtesy.</p> - -<p><i>Philip the Second</i> was Prescott’s most ambitious -work. Though but a fragment, the fragment is of -noble dimensions, being longer by many pages -than the <i>Ferdinand and Isabella</i>. The narrative is -extraordinarily vivid. Few pages can match for -interest those in which are described Philip’s coming -to Flanders and his assumption of power at -the hands of his father Charles the Fifth. Here -are exhibited at their best the much-praised qualities -of Prescott’s style. His prose grew better as -he grew older.</p> - -<p>The characters stand out like the figures of a -play: the great princes, Charles the Fifth, Philip, -Mary of England, and Elizabeth; the great warriors -and statesmen, Guise, Montmorency, Alva, -Egmont, and William of Orange; noble ladies -like Margaret of Parma and the beautiful Elizabeth -of France. The events were of high and -tragic importance, for during this reign was to be -settled the great question of freedom of thought -and the right to worship God as the conscience -and the reason dictated. The very contrasts of -costume came to the aid of the historian in dealing -with this romantic age. It would seem as if -the writer must be picturesque in spite of himself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span></p> - -<p>The modern reader, whatever be his natural -bent, finds himself impelled by the critical spirit -of the times into distrusting all history which is -not technical and hard to grasp. Prescott’s books -are incorrigibly ‘literary’ and therefore more or -less under suspicion. Because they are attractive, -it is taken for granted that they are unsound. -Certain unhappy beings have gone so far as to -slander them outright by calling them romances. -But this is mere impatience with the kind of historical -writing which Prescott’s work exemplifies. -He was a master of the art of narrative; and history -which stops with narrative is in the minds of -severe students little better than the more vicious -forms of literary idleness, such as poetry and fiction. -Prescott gratifies his reader’s curiosity about -the past, but is not over solicitous to ‘modify his -view of the present and his forecast of the future.’ -In other words, he is well content to look -at the surface of history, leaving it to others to -look below the surface and philosophize on what -they find there.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless these brilliant volumes have a -value which is something more than literary even -if it be a good deal less than scientific. It is -perhaps not extravagant to pronounce them an indispensable -propædeutic to the study of Spanish-American -history. They cannot be displaced by -works which ‘go much deeper into the subject.’ -Depth is not what is at all times most needed.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span> -We need stimulus, and encouragement to face -the discipline awaiting us in deep books. He who, -having read Prescott, was content to read no farther -would be an odd sort of student; but not so -odd as he who labored under the impression that -Prescott was a historian whom he could afford to -do without.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_6" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="VI">VI<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>Ralph Waldo Emerson</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>G. W. Cooke</b>: <i>Ralph Waldo Emerson, his Life, Writings, -and Philosophy</i>, fifth edition, 1882.</p> - -<p><b>O. W. Holmes</b>: <i>Ralph Waldo Emerson</i>, ‘American Men -of Letters,’ 1885.</p> - -<p><b>J. E. Cabot</b>: <i>A Memoir of Ralph Waldo Emerson</i>, third -edition, 1888.</p> - -<p><b>Richard Garnett</b>: <i>Life of Ralph Waldo Emerson</i>, ‘Great -Writers,’ 1888.</p> - -<p><b>E. W. Emerson</b>: <i>Emerson in Concord</i>, 1889.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_29">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> clerical profession was in a manner hereditary -in the Emerson race. With a single -exception there was a minister in each of six generations -descending from Thomas Emerson of -Ipswich, Massachusetts. For this one lapse compensation -was made; another generation furnished -the colony with three ministers.</p> - -<p>For nearly a century and a half the history of the -family has centred in Concord, Massachusetts. The -house known as the ‘Old Manse’ was built in 1765 -by William Emerson, the young minister of the -First Church. Gentle in spirit, he was an ardent -patriot and in Revolutionary times won the name<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span> -of the ‘fighting parson.’ He came honestly by his -militant temper, being a grandson of the famous Father -Moody who distinguished himself at the siege -of Louisburg as a preacher, fighter, and iconoclast.</p> - -<p>Besides the gift of eloquence, William Emerson -inherited from his father (the Reverend Joseph -Emerson of Maiden) a love of literature. This -he apparently bequeathed to his son, William, -who in turn transmitted it to his son, the author -of <i>Conduct of Life</i> and <i>Representative Men</i>.</p> - -<p>Ralph Waldo Emerson was born in Boston on -May 25, 1803. His father, minister of the First -Church of that city, was a man of vigorous intellect, -fond of society, and, judging from one of his -letters, endowed with a caustic wit. His mother, -Ruth (Haskins) Emerson, was distinguished for -her high-bred manners and tender thoughtfulness.</p> - -<p>Severity on the part of parents was thought good -for boys in that day. Ralph never forgot how his -father ‘twice or thrice put me in mortal terror -by forcing me into the salt water, off some wharf -or bathing-house; and I still recall the fright with -which, after some of these salt experiences, I -heard his voice one day (as Adam that of the -Lord God in the garden) summoning me to a new -bath, and I vainly endeavoring to hide myself.’</p> - -<p>Left a widow in 1811, with five boys to educate, -Mrs. Emerson was forced to heroic exertions. -Her sacrifices made a deep impress on the mind -of the most famous of those boys.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span></p> - -<p>From the Boston Latin School, Emerson went -to Harvard College and was graduated in 1821 -‘with ambitions to be a professor of rhetoric and -elocution.’ After a period of school-teaching, a -profession towards which his attitude was unequivocal -(‘Better saw wood, better sow hemp, better -hang with it after it is sown, than sow the seeds -of instruction’), he began his theological studies -at Harvard and in due time was ‘approbated to -preach.’ Ill health drove him South for a winter -(1826–27), where he saw novel sights, and made -the acquaintance of Achille Murat, son of the -quondam King of Naples. Emerson had Murat -for a fellow traveller from St. Augustine to Charleston: -‘I blessed my stars for my fine companion, -and we talked incessantly.’</p> - -<p>On March 11, 1829, Emerson was ordained as -colleague of Henry Ware in the Second Church -of Boston and a little later ‘became the sole incumbent.’ -He resigned this advantageous post of -labor (September, 1832) because of doubts about -the rite of the Lord’s Supper and the offering -of public prayer. To many observers his career -seemed wilfully spoiled by himself.</p> - -<p>With impaired health and in despondency and -grief (he had but recently lost his young wife)<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">19</a> -Emerson tried the effect of a year abroad. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span> -sailed from Boston and arrived at Malta on February -2, 1833. Thence he proceeded to Syracuse, -Taormina, Messina, Palermo, and Naples. After -visiting the other chief cities of Italy, he journeyed -to Paris, which he admired none the less because -he felt out of place there; ‘Pray what brought you -here, grave Sir?’ the moving Boulevard seemed to -say. But he had the opportunity of hearing Jouffroy -at the Sorbonne, and of paying his respects to Lafayette. -In London he saw Coleridge. At Edinburgh -he learned Carlyle’s whereabouts, visited -him, and found him, ‘good and wise and pleasant.’ -He was unfortunate in his trip to the Highlands -(‘the scenery of a shower-bath must be always much -the same’). He called on Wordsworth at Rydal -Mount. In early October he was back at home.</p> - -<p>The future was uncertain. Emerson was reluctant -to give up the ministry, and preached from -time to time as the chance presented itself. For -some weeks he supplied Orville Dewey’s church -in New Bedford, but when it was intimated that -on Dewey’s resignation he might be invited to -succeed him, Emerson made the impossible conditions -that he should neither administer the Communion, -nor offer prayer ‘unless he felt moved to -do so.’ He supplied the pulpit of the Unitarian -church in Concord during three months of the -pastor’s illness and for three years preached to -the little congregation in East Lexington.</p> - -<p>Having cut himself off from the only ‘regular’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span> -mode of life that seemed open to him, Emerson -took up the irregular vocation of lecturer. During -the winter following his return from Europe, he -had lectured before the Boston Society of Natural -History. Beginning in January, 1835, he gave a -course on ‘Biography’ consisting of six lectures: -‘Tests of Great Men,’ ‘Michelangelo,’ ‘Luther,’ -‘Milton,’ ‘Fox,’ and ‘Burke.’ During succeeding -winters he gave ten lectures on ‘English Literature’ -(1835–36), twelve lectures on ‘The Philosophy -of History’ (1836–37), ten lectures on -‘Human Culture’ (1837–38), ten lectures on ‘Human -Life’ (1838–39), ten lectures on ‘The Present -Age’ (1839–40). He was now fairly engaged in -his new calling.</p> - -<p>Meantime he had fixed on Concord for his permanent -home, bought a house there, married Miss -Lydia Jackson of Plymouth, and begun that career -of which one of his biographers has humorously -complained, ‘a life devoid of incident, of nearly -untroubled happiness, and of absolute conformity -to the moral law.’</p> - -<p>In 1836 there was published anonymously a -little volume entitled <i>Nature</i>. It was Emerson’s -first book. His influence as a man of letters begins -at this point. The succeeding volumes consisted -in part of lectures which, having stood the -test of public delivery, were now recast in essay -form. Not every essay, however, had its first -presentation as spoken discourse.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span></p> - -<p>On formal public occasions Emerson was often -invited to give the address. There was authority -in his utterances. That he was not unlikely to -say something revolutionary seemed to make it -the more important that he should be heard often. -He gave the Historical Address at Concord at the -Second Centennial Anniversary, the Phi Beta -Kappa Oration at Harvard on ‘The American -Scholar’ (August, 1837), and the Address before -the Senior Class in Divinity College (July 15, -1838), which brought down on him the wrath of -Andrews Norton and a shower of remonstrances -from Unitarian ministers who, however, loved him -too much to be angry with him.</p> - -<p>At the time of the Divinity Hall Address the -so-called Transcendental movement was in full -progress. The movement grew in part out of informal -meetings held by a group of liberal thinkers -with a view to protesting against the unsatisfactory -state of current opinion in theology and philosophy, -and looking for something broader and -deeper.<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">20</a></p> - -<p>Transcendentalism was an intellectual ferment. -Having a philosophical and religious significance, -it was also notable for its effect on social, educational, -and literary matters. Emerson defined -it as faith in intuitions. It has been called an -‘outburst of Romanticism on Puritan ground.’ -Certain historians connect it with German transcendental<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span> -philosophy. That it was indigenous to -New England appears to be the sounder view. -According to a high authority,<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">21</a> ‘Emerson’s transcendentalism -was native to his mind.... It -had been in the life and thought of his family for -generations.’ He was certainly regarded as the -heresiarch.</p> - -<p>Like most complex movements Transcendentalism -had a grotesque side. The enthusiasts, in -their anxiety to be emancipated from old formulas, -fell victims to ‘the vice of the age,—the propensity -to exaggerate the importance of visible -and tangible facts.’ Emerson laughs at them a -little: ‘They promise the establishment of the -kingdom of heaven and end with champing unleavened -bread or dedicating themselves to the -nourishment of a beard.’</p> - -<p>The movement had an ‘organ,’ a quarterly -magazine called ‘The Dial,’ the first number of -which appeared in July, 1840. George Ripley was -the business manager, Margaret Fuller the editor. -It came under Emerson’s care two years later, and -in 1844 was abandoned. An audience large enough -to support the organ could not be found.</p> - -<p>Transcendentalism coincided chronologically -with several plans for bettering the condition of -the world. ‘We are a little wild here with numberless<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span> -projects of social reform. Not a reading -man but has his draft of a new community in his -waistcoat pocket. I am gently mad myself.’<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">22</a></p> - -<p>Emerson was sympathetic with the community -experiments at ‘Brook Farm’ and ‘Fruitlands,’ -but not to the extent of joining them. He approved -every wild action of the experimenters, -nevertheless he had a work of his own.</p> - -<p>The work consisted in bringing his thought to -his public by means of lectures. He was not -overfond of the medium of communication. ‘Are -not lectures a kind of Peter Parley’s story of -Uncle Plato, and a puppet show of the Eleusinian -mysteries?’ he asks. It is not recorded what -he thought of that kind of lecturing which may -best be described in Byron’s phrase—‘to giggle -and make giggle.’ He frankly (but unenviously) -admired the speaker who could produce instantaneous -effects, moving the audience to laughter or -tears. His own gifts were of another sort. When -‘the stout Illinoisian’ after a short trial walked out -of the hall Emerson’s sympathies were with him: -‘Shakespeare, or Franklin, or Esop, coming to -Illinois, would say, I must give my wisdom a -comic form,...’</p> - -<p>Urged thereto by his generous friend Alexander -Ireland of the Manchester ‘Examiner,’ who took -on himself all the business responsibilities, Emerson -(in 1847) made a lecturing trip to England.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span> -He spoke in Manchester, Edinburgh, London, -and elsewhere. The lectures were ‘attacked by the -clergymen,’ and the attacks met with ‘pale though -brave defences’ by Emerson’s friends. After a -few weeks in Paris, then in the throes of the revolution, -the lecturer returned by way of England to -America.</p> - -<p>The crisis in the anti-slavery conflict was approaching. -Emerson, in spite of his philosophical -attitude towards reformers, became more and more -identified with the Abolitionists. During a political -speech at Cambridge he was repeatedly hissed -by students. According to an eye-witness, he -‘seemed absolutely to enjoy it.’ As late as 1861 -he was received with marked hostility by the audience -which gathered at the annual meeting of the -Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Society. ‘The Mob -roared whenever I attempted to speak, and after -several beginnings I withdrew.’ The breaking out -of the war in a way relieved him. Now people -knew where they stood.</p> - -<p>His chief source of income was cut off for a -time. The public was not in the mood for lectures -such as his. Later he found it possible to -resume his courses, and he continued to lecture -effectively until within a few years of his death.</p> - -<p>Emerson’s principal books are: <i>Nature</i>, 1836; -<i>Essays</i>, 1841; <i>Essays</i>, ‘second series,’ 1844; <i>Poems</i>, -1847; <i>Miscellanies</i>, 1849 (lectures and addresses, -together with a reprint of <i>Nature</i>); <i>Representative<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span> -Men</i>, 1850; <i>English Traits</i>, 1856; <i>Conduct of Life</i>, -1860; <i>May-Day and Other Pieces</i>, 1867; <i>Society -and Solitude</i>, 1870; <i>Letters and Social Aims</i>, 1876; -<i>Lectures and Biographical Sketches</i>, 1884; and -<i>Natural History of Intellect</i>, 1893. He edited a -number of Carlyle’s books, contributed several -chapters to the <i>Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli</i> -and compiled a poetic anthology, <i>Parnassus</i>, 1875. -<i>The Correspondence of Thomas Carlyle and Ralph -Waldo Emerson</i> (edited by C. E. Norton), 1883, -contains two hundred of Emerson’s letters.</p> - -<p>In 1863 Emerson was one of the ‘visitors’ to -the Military Academy at West Point. In 1866 -he was Phi Beta Kappa orator at Harvard, and -the following year received from his college the -degree of LL. D.</p> - -<p>From 1867 to 1879 he was an overseer of -Harvard. In 1870, before a little audience of -students from the advanced classes, he gave a -course on the ‘Natural History of Intellect,’ the -subject in the handling of which he had hoped -to write his master work. One of the surprises -of his later life was his nomination for the office -of Lord Rector of Glasgow University by the independent -party (1874). There were two other -candidates. Emerson polled five hundred votes. -Disraeli was victor with seven hundred votes.</p> - -<p>Emerson’s memory failed gradually, but the -defect was not much noticed until after the shock -consequent on the burning of his house (1872).<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span> -A trip to Egypt did much to restore his health -and he never lost the ‘royal trait of cheerfulness.’ -He died, after a brief illness, on April 27, 1882.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_30">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">EMERSON’S CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> praise which Emerson gives to character at -the expense of luxurious surroundings was sincere. -His own tastes were very simple. ‘Can anything -be so elegant as to have few wants and to serve -them one’s self, so as to have something left to -give, instead of being always prompt to grab?’ -Acknowledging himself enmeshed in the conventionalities -of ‘civilized’ life and no more responsible -than his fellow victims, he nevertheless did -what he could to follow out his theory. He would -at least not be one of the infirm people of society, -who, if they miss any one of their comforts, ‘represent -themselves as the most wronged and most -wretched persons on earth.’ Emerson did not -live in the woods on twenty-seven cents a week, -but he had no objection to a friend’s living that -way if the friend found it profitable. For himself -he would not be ‘absurd and pedantic in reform.’</p> - -<p>No characteristic is more marked than his -spirit of tolerance. It was not of a smooth, purring -sort, growing out of eagerness to please or unwillingness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span> -to offend, but rather an aggressive tolerance. -Emerson would not merely grant to every -man ‘the allowance he takes,’ but would even force -him to take it. He was patient with the most -obnoxious of reformers. And he could be tolerant -with those who could tolerate nothing.</p> - -<p>With pronounced and original views he had -little solicitude to impose his views on others. He -was without egotism. To state the truth as he -apprehended it and to let the world come to his -ideas if the world could and would, contented him. -But he had no quarrel with the order of things. -His good humor and smiling patience are manifest -in everything he has written.</p> - -<p>Emerson held firmly to the doctrine of the -brotherhood of man, yet with no touch of the -unctuous fraternizer. He had the rebuffs that all -must encounter who try to break down the partition -wall between classes. In an attempt to solve, -according to the Golden Rule, the problem of a -servant’s status in the household, he was thoroughly -beaten and laughingly acknowledged it. He did -his share, but the servant refused to fraternize.</p> - -<p>He was a good citizen, an excellent neighbor, -prompt in the acknowledgment of all homely -duties. His was a large-souled, benignant, and -gracious nature. There was something healing in -his mere presence, though no word was spoken.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_31">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE WRITER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Emerson</span> gave sound advice on the art of writing, -like a professor of rhetoric. He commended the -sentences that would stand the test of the voice. -This is applying physiology to literature. He -laughed at the habit of exaggeration, though he -also said, ‘The superlative is as good as the -positive if it be alive.’ His rules are excellent, -and if followed must give distinction to whatever -page of writing they are applied. But while they -go no deeper than other suggestions, they point -out the obvious characteristics of his style.</p> - -<p>For example, Emerson thought clarity all-important. -He aimed at it, and attained it. He -believed in the use of the right word, and was dissatisfied -unless it could be found. The right word -is always illuminating, and as a result Emerson’s -English is full of surprises. Even when the term -employed shocks by its unexpectedness, we presently -feel that after all the choice was not grotesque. -In practice Emerson was no spendthrift -of words, that currency which loses weight and -value in the ratio of one’s prodigality, but delighted -in economy. No doubt his style is aphoristic—that -is a natural result of writing aphorisms. But -if no less aphoristic, it is far more logical than is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span> -commonly reported. The want of sequence in -Emerson’s work has been exaggerated, often to -the point of absurdity.</p> - -<p>There are writers who have two distinct literary -styles, as they have two faces, one to be photographed -in, and one for natural wear. Emerson -had one style, which was dual-toned, each tone -taking the color of his prevailing thought, and -each shading imperceptibly into the other. A -dozen pages picked at random from his best essays -will hardly fail to show how sublimated his -diction could be at times. Then does it come -near to the line dividing poetry from prose, from -which it presently falls away to the level of everyday -need. Poetic as Emerson’s diction frequently -is, it is always controlled. On the other hand, when -it sinks to plain prose it never loses the air of distinction -and breeding.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_32">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>NATURE, ADDRESSES, AND LECTURES</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">In</span> the introduction of his first book, <i>Nature</i>, -Emerson announces his favorite doctrine, the -necessity of seeing the world through our own -eyes, of being original, not imitative. He then -proceeds with his interpretation. Nature not only -exalts man, giving him a pleasure so tonic that it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span> -admonishes to temperance, but also renders him -certain services. They may be classified under -Commodity, Beauty, Language, and Discipline. -The first, albeit the lowest, is perfect in its kind; -men everywhere comprehend the ‘steady and -prodigal provision’ that has been made for their -comfort. Beauty is the second, and meets a nobler -want. ‘Nature satisfies by its loveliness,’ and -‘without any mixture of corporeal benefit.’ ‘Give -me health and a day, and I will make the pomp -of emperors ridiculous.’ This is not enough, -there must be a spiritual element. Such element -is found in the will and virtue of man. An act -of truth or heroism ‘seems at once to draw to -itself the sky as its temple.’ Beauty in Nature -also becomes an object of the intellect. It reforms -itself in the mind, leads to a new creation, and -hence Art.</p> - -<p>Nature is the source of language, words being -the signs of natural facts. But ‘every natural fact -is a symbol of some spiritual fact.’ In brief, ‘the -world is emblematic.’ Nature is a discipline of -the understanding, devoting herself to forming the -common-sense. Nature is the discipline of the -will, after which she becomes the ally of Religion. -In short, so great is the part played by Nature in -disciplining man that the ‘noble doubt’ perpetually -arises ‘whether the end be not the Final Cause -of the Universe; and whether nature outwardly -exists.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">162</span></p> - -<p>What then? It makes no difference ‘whether -Orion is up there in heaven or some god paints -the image in the firmament of the soul.’ Culture -has the uniform effect of leading us to regard nature -as a phenomenon, not a substance. Nature -herself gives us the hint of Idealism. The poet -teaches the same lesson. The philosopher seeking, -not Beauty, but Truth, dissolves the ‘solid seeming -block of matter’ by a thought. Intellectual -science begets ‘invariably a doubt of the existence -of matter.’ Ethics and religion have the same -effect of degrading ‘nature and suggesting its dependence -on spirit.’</p> - -<p>Back of all nature, then, is spirit. ‘The world -proceeds from the same spirit as the body of man. -It is a remoter and inferior incarnation of God.’ -At present man has not come into his whole kingdom. -He depends on his understanding alone. Let -him apply all his powers, the reason as well as the -understanding.</p> - -<p>Brief as it is, this little book shows to perfection -the richness of Emerson’s thought, his skill in the -apothegm, his economy of phrase, the poetic cast -of his mind, and the beauty of his diction.</p> - -<p>Nine addresses and lectures are printed along -with <i>Nature</i> in the definitive edition of Emerson’s -writings. The first is the Phi Beta Kappa Oration, -‘The American Scholar,’ in which Emerson -sounds with resonant tone that note of independence -so marked in all his teaching. It was time,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span> -he thought, for the ‘sluggard intellect’ of America -to ‘look from under its iron lids’ and prove itself -equal to something more than ‘exertions of mechanical -skill.’ We have been too long the bond -slave of Europe.</p> - -<p>True emancipation consists in freedom from the -idea that only a few gifted ones of the earth are -privileged to learn truth at first hand. Let us not -be cowed by great men.</p> - -<p>Emerson notes three influences acting upon the -scholar. First, nature, always with us and taking -the impress of our minds. Second, books, which, -noble as they are in theory, have their danger: ‘I -had better never see a book than be warped by -its attraction clean out of my own orbit.’ Third, -life, everything which is the opposite of mere -thinking. ‘If it were only for a vocabulary the -scholar would be covetous of action. Life is our -dictionary.’</p> - -<p>Above all, he praises the obscure scholar who -without hope of visible reward, reckoning at true -value the seesaw of public whim and fancy, patient -of neglect, patient of reproach, ‘is happy if he can -satisfy himself alone that this day he has seen -something truly.’</p> - -<p>‘The Divinity Address,’ as it is called, was -thought in its day nothing short of outrageous radicalism. -The now well-known Emersonian plea for -a noble individuality is made in terms the most inspiring. -He bewails the helplessness of mankind.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span> -‘All men go in flocks to this saint or that poet, -avoiding the God who seeth in secret.’ Emerson -would drive out the spirit which prompts a man -to content himself with being ‘an easy secondary -to some Christian scheme, or sectarian connection, -or some eminent man.’ He would have men follow -no one leader, however distinguished or gifted, -but seek truth at first hand, know God face to face. -And while he grants that nothing is of value in -comparison with the soul of a good and great man, -even a great man becomes a source of danger if -we propose to rest in the shadow of his achievement -rather than develop our own gift.</p> - -<p>‘The Method of Nature’ is a rhapsody in -praise of the spontaneous and unreasoning as over -against the logical and definite. Nature looks to -great results, not to little ones, to the type rather -than the individual.</p> - -<p>In ‘Man the Reformer’ Emerson preaches -another favorite doctrine, the necessity of manual -work. There is nothing fanciful in his view. He -did not set himself against division of labor. He did -not insist that every man should be a farmer ‘any -more than that every man should be a lexicographer.’ -His ‘doctrine of the Farm’ is that -‘every man ought to stand in primary relations -with the work of the world.’</p> - -<p>This address should be read in connection with -the one on ‘The Times,’ which supplements it. -The ideal reformer is not he who has some cause<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span> -at heart in comparison with which all other causes -are naught. The reformer is the ‘Re-maker of -what man has made; a renouncer of lies, a restorer -of truth and good, imitating that great -Nature which embosoms us all, and which sleeps -no moment on an old past.’</p> - -<p>A reading of this address ought to be followed -by a reading of the one entitled ‘The Conservative.’ -As he had advised reformers of the danger -to which they were exposed, he now warns conservatives -not to forget that they are the retrograde -party. By their theory of life sickness is a necessity -and the social frame a hospital. Yet in a -planet ‘peopled with conservatives one Reformer -may yet be born.’</p> - -<p>In the lecture on ‘The Transcendentalist’ -Emerson comes to a tempered defence of his own. -He defines the new movement; it is merely Idealism -as it shows itself in 1840—an old thing under -a new name. He is very patient with the Transcendentalists, -whose chief idiosyncrasy is that they -have ‘struck work.’ ‘Now every one must do after -his kind, be he asp or angel, and these must.’ -American literature and spiritual history will profit -by the turmoil. This heresy will leave its mark, -as any one will admit who knows ‘these seething -brains, these admirable radicals, these talkers who -talk the sun and moon away.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_33">V<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>THE ESSAYS</i>, <i>REPRESENTATIVE MEN</i>, -<i>ENGLISH TRAITS</i>, <i>CONDUCT OF LIFE</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">When</span> the <i>Essays</i> appeared, Emerson found a -larger audience. He now spoke through the medium -of a recognized literary form. If all readers -do not read essays, they at least know what they -are and stand in no fear of them. Some buyers -may have been tempted by the table of contents. -Titles such as ‘Self-Reliance,’ ‘Compensation,’ -‘Friendship,’ ‘Heroism,’ had an encouraging -sound and promised useful advice.</p> - -<p>In the essay on ‘History,’ Emerson reaffirms -the doctrine of the unity of human nature. There -is ‘one mind,’ history is its record. What we -possess in common with the men of the past enables -us to comprehend and interpret the actions -of the men of the past. The facts must square -with our own experience.</p> - -<p>The theme is continued in ‘Self-Reliance.’ As -there is one mind common to all men, and as what -belongs to greatness of the Past belongs also to -us, it is suicide to descend to imitation. ‘Speak -your latent conviction and it shall become the -universal sense.’ The whole essay is a glowing -exhortation to men to live largely and stand on -their own feet, facing the world with the nonchalance<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span> -begotten of health, good humor, and the -sense of possession.</p> - -<p>In ‘Compensation’ the essayist notes those -inexorable forces by which a balance is kept in the -world, the laws by virtue of which ‘things refuse -to be mismanaged long.’ In ‘Spiritual Laws’ he -shows the importance of living the life of nature. -Let no man import into his mind ‘difficulties -which are none of his.’ The essay on ‘Love’ is -a prose poem in honor of that passion which -‘makes the clown gentle, and gives the coward -heart.’ Following it is the essay on ‘Friendship’ -with its austere definitions. ‘I do not wish to treat -friendships daintily, but with roughest courage.’ -‘Friendship implies sincerity, and sincerity is the -luxury allowed, like diadems and authority, only -to the highest rank.’</p> - -<p>Emerson writes on ‘Prudence’ in order to -balance those fine lyric words of Love and Friendship -with words of coarser sound. Prudence considered -in itself is naught; but recognized as one -of the conditions of existence, it deserves our utmost -attention. It keeps a man from standing in -false and bitter relations to other men. Emerson -had no patience with people who, because they -have genius or beauty, expect an exception of the -laws of Nature to be made in their case. Notwithstanding -their gifts, they must toe the mark.</p> - -<p>‘Heroism,’ the eighth essay in this volume, -contains a definition of the hero which does not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span> -coincide with the popular conception. We are so -accustomed to seeing our heroes crowned with -wreaths and overwhelmed with lecture engagements -the day following the act of valor that we are -surprised to read: ‘Heroism works in contradiction -to the voice of mankind.’ Emerson gives a -new turn to the old phrase ‘the heroic in everyday -life.’ Life, he says, has its ‘ragged and dangerous -front.’ It is full of evils against which the man -must be armed. ‘Let him hear in season that he -is born into a state of war.’ To this ‘militant -attitude of the soul’ Emerson gave the name of -heroism. In its rudest form it is ‘contempt for -safety and ease.’</p> - -<p>To some readers the essay on ‘The Over-Soul’ -is at once the clearest and the most darkened, the -plainest and the most enigmatic of the essays in -this book. But there is no misapprehending the -value of this effort to put, not in rigid scientific -terms, but in glowing and lofty imagery, the dependence -of man on the Infinite, the marvel of -that Immensity which is the background of our -being. ‘From within or from behind, a light -shines through us upon things, and makes us -aware that we are nothing, but the light is all.’ -It is the universal mind by which all being is enveloped -and interpenetrated.</p> - -<p>The essay on ‘Circles’ contains this thought: -Outside every circle another may be drawn. -Opinion seeks to crystallize at a certain limit, to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span> -insist that there is nothing beyond. The soul -bursts these barriers to set new limits, which in turn -are good only for a time. Man must therefore -keep himself always open to the conception of a -larger circle. Let him ‘prefer truth to his past -apprehension of truth.’</p> - -<p>How to seek truth is the subject of the next -essay, ‘Intellect,’ a tribute to the spontaneous -action of the mind. We do not control our -thoughts but are controlled by them. All we can -do is to clear away obstructions and ‘suffer the -intellect to see.’ Pursue truth and it avoids you. -Relax the energy of your pursuit and it comes to -you; yet the pursuit was as necessary as the subsequent -relaxation.</p> - -<p>In the final essay, on ‘Art,’ the large, simple, -and homely elements are praised, the qualities -which appeal to universal human nature. In the -paintings of the Old World one thinks to be astonished -by something new and strange, and he -is struck by the familiar look. He is reminded of -what he had always known.</p> - -<p>The second series of <i>Essays</i> treats of ‘The -Poet,’ ‘Experience,’ ‘Character,’ ‘Manners,’ -‘Gifts,’ ‘Nature,’ ‘Politics,’ of ‘Nominalist and -Realist;’ there is also a lecture on ‘New England -Reformers.’ Emerson notes the shallow nature -of a theory of poetry busied only with externals. -Neither is that poetry which is written ‘at a safe -distance from our own experience.’ The poet is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span> -representative. ‘He stands among common men -for the complete man, and apprises us not of his -wealth but of the commonwealth.’</p> - -<p>‘Experience’ is in praise of a mode of life which -consists in living without making a fuss about it, -filling the time, taking hold where one can and -exhausting the possibilities. Only fanatics say it -is not worth while. ‘Let us be poised, and wise, -and our own, to-day. Let us treat the men and -women well; treat them as if they were real; perhaps -they are.’</p> - -<p>‘Character’ and ‘Manners’ are related studies. -There is a moral order in the world. Nothing can -withstand it. ‘Character is this moral order seen -through the medium of an individual nature.’ -Society has raised certain artificial distinctions. -But they must be recognized. Society is real, and -grows out of a genuine need. ‘The painted phantasm -Fashion casts a species of derision on what -we say. But I will neither be driven from some -allowance to Fashion as a symbolic institution, -nor from the belief that love is the basis of -courtesy.’</p> - -<p>‘Gifts’ is a fine bit of paradox. ‘The gift, to -be true, must be the flowing of the giver unto -me, correspondent to my flowing unto him. -When the waters are at level, then my goods pass -to him, and his to me.’ To give useful things -denies the relation. Hence the fitness of beautiful -things.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span></p> - -<p>There is bold imagery in the essay on ‘Nature.’ -‘Plants are the young of the world, but they -grope ever upward toward consciousness; the -trees are imperfect men, and seem to bemoan -their imprisonment, rooted to the ground. The -animal is the novice and probationer of a more -advanced order. The men though young, having -tasted the first drop from the cup of thought, -are already dissipated: the maples and ferns are -still uncorrupt; yet no doubt when they come -to consciousness they too will curse and swear.’ -Thus does Emerson describe that glimpse he had -of a ‘system in transition.’</p> - -<p>A healthy optimism pervades the essay on ‘Politics.’ -In spite of meddling and selfishness the -foundations of the State are very secure. ‘Things -have their laws, as well as men; and things refuse -to be trifled with.’ By a higher law property -will be protected. The same necessity secures to -each nation the form of governing best suited to -it. Yet all forms are defective. Good men ‘must -not obey the laws too well.’ Perfect government -rests on character at last. There are dreamers who -do not despair of seeing the State renovated ‘on -the principle of right and love.’</p> - -<p><i>Representative Men</i> consists of lectures on Plato, -Swedenborg, Montaigne, Shakespeare, Napoleon, -and Goethe, together with an introduction on the -‘Uses of Great Men.’</p> - -<p>Plato is the man who makes havoc with originalities,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span> -the philosopher whose writings have been -for twenty-two hundred years the Bible of the -learned, but who has his defects. Intellectual in -aim, and therefore literary, he attempts a system -of the universe and fails to complete it or make it -intelligible.</p> - -<p>Swedenborg is the representative of mysticism, -great with its power, weak with its defects.</p> - -<p>Out of the eternal conflict between abstractionist -and materialist arises another type of mind, one -that laughs at both philosophies for being out -of their depth and pushing too far. He is the -sceptic, Montaigne, for example. The type was -peculiarly grateful to Emerson, admiring as he did a -man who talked with shrewdness, was not literary, -who knew the world, used the positive degree, -never shrieked, and had no wish to annihilate -time and space.</p> - -<p>Shakespeare meets our conception of the Poet, -‘a heart in unison with his time and country,’ -whose production comes ‘freighted with the -weightiest convictions and pointed with the most -determined aims which any man or class knows -of in his times.’ He demonstrated the possibility -of translating things into song. The ear is ravished -by the beauty of his lines, ‘yet the sentence -is so loaded with meaning and so linked with its -foregoers and followers, that the logician is satisfied.’ -And he had the royal trait of cheerfulness.</p> - -<p>In Napoleon we have ‘the strong and ready<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span> -actor’ who in the ‘universal imbecility, indecision, -and indolence of men’ knows how to take occasion -by the beard. His life is an answer to cowardly -doubts. Emerson calls Napoleon ‘the agent or -attorney of the middle class of modern society.’ -It was he who showed what could be done by the -use of common virtues. His experiment failed because -he had a selfish and sensual aim. In the last -analysis Napoleon was not a gentleman.</p> - -<p>Goethe is the other phase of the genius of the age. -There is a provision for the writer in the scheme -of things. Nature insists on being reported. To -Man the universe is something to be recorded. -The instinct exists in different degrees. One has -the power to ‘see connection where the multitude -sees fragments.’ Lift this faculty to a high -degree and you have the great German poet who -well-nigh restored literature to its primal significance. -‘There must be a man behind the book.’ -‘The old Eternal Genius who built the world has -confided himself more to this man than any other.’ -Goethe is the type of culture. Here, too, is his -defect. For his devotion is not to pure truth, but -to truth for the sake of culture.</p> - -<p><i>Representative Men</i> was succeeded by <i>English -Traits</i>, a volume in which Emerson taught his -countrymen more about England than they had -hitherto known or fancied. Histories, statistical -reports, treatises on British art and British manufactures, -are useful and sometimes dreary reading;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span> -they give us facts heaped on facts. It is a relief -to put them down and take up <i>English Traits</i> in -order to learn what we have been reading about.</p> - -<p>Through Emerson’s eyes we can see this little -island ‘a prize for the best race,’ its singular people, -chained to their logic, willing ‘to kiss the dust -before a fact,’ strong in their sense of brotherhood, -yet fond each of his own way, incommunicable, -‘in short every one of these islanders an -island in himself.’ They have a ‘superfluity of -self-regard’—which is a secret of their power; -they are assertive, crotchety, wholly forgetful of -‘a cardinal article in the bill of social rights,’ that -every man ‘has a right to his own ears;’ nevertheless -Emerson concludes (and an Englishman -would assure him no other conclusion was possible) -they are the best stock in the world. Here -is the typical islander as Emerson paints him. -‘He is a churl with a soft place in his heart, whose -speech is a brash of bitter waters, but who loves -to help you at a pinch. He says no, and serves -you, and your thanks disgust him.’</p> - -<p>There are paragraphs and chapters on the Aristocracy, -the Universities, Religion, Literature, and -the Press, that is, the ‘Times.’ Every page glitters -with wit. Every apothegm contains the full -proportion of truth and untruth which sayings of -that sort are wont to contain. Says Emerson: -‘The gospel the Anglican church preaches is, -‘“By taste are ye saved.”’ Yet the more one reflects<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span> -on this monstrous statement, the more is he -astonished at the amount of truth in it.</p> - -<p>The volume entitled <i>Conduct of Life</i> has a fine -rough vigor. Here are displayed to advantage -Emerson’s robust habit of mind, searching analysis, -vivacity and picturesqueness of expression, -epigrammatic skill, homely plain sense, and lofty -idealism. The first essay, ‘Fate,’ is an energetic -and striking performance. One needs the optimism -of its last paragraphs to counteract the grim -terror of the earlier ones. Seldom has the relentless -ferocity of Circumstance, Fate, Environment, -been set forth in terms equally emphatic. The -companion essay, ‘Power,’ is a study of the influence -of brute force (and its compensations) in -life and history. Emerson shows the value of the -‘bruiser’ in politics, trade, and in society. This -leads to the third subject, ‘Wealth.’ Money must -be had if only to buy bread. Nature insults the -man who will not work. ‘She starves, taunts, -and torments him, takes away warmth, laughter, -sleep, friends and daylight, until he has fought -his way to his own loaf.’ But what men of sense -want is power, mastery, not candy; they esteem -wealth to be ‘the assimilation of nature to themselves.’</p> - -<p>To all this there must be a corrective; it is discussed -in the essay on ‘Culture.’ Nature ruins a -man to gain her ends, makes him strong in things -she wants done, weak otherwise, and then robs him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span> -of his sense of proportion so that he becomes -an egotist. Culture restores the balance. Culture -rescues a man from himself, ‘kills his exaggeration.’ -The simpler means to it are books, travel, -society, solitude; and there are nobler ones, not -the least of which is adversity. The discussion is -continued in the practical essay on ‘Behavior’ -and lifted to the highest plane in the essay on -‘Worship.’ The whole state of man is a state of -culture, ‘and its flowering and completion may be -described as Religion or Worship.’ For all its -beauty this chapter will not please many people. -They may take refuge in ‘Considerations by the -Way,’ which shows the ‘good of evil,’ or in the -fine essay on ‘Beauty’ or the ironical little closing -piece called ‘Illusions.’</p> - -<h3 id="sec_34">VI<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE POEMS</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Many</span> paragraphs in <i>Nature</i> and the <i>Essays</i> struggle -in their prose environment as if seeking a -higher medium of expression. Emerson’s command -of poetic materials was extraordinary, though -it fails to justify the claims sometimes made for -him. He could be wilfully careless in respect to -technique. There are moments when no cacophonous -combination terrifies him. Then will he say -his say though the language creak.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span></p> - -<p>He had published freely in ‘The Dial,’ where -he met his own little audience, but when the question -arose of putting his verses in the pretentious -form of a book Emerson hesitated. Only after -much deliberation, continued through four years, -did he come finally to a decision.</p> - -<p>His capital theme is Nature, ‘the inscrutable -and mute.’ ‘Woodnotes,’ ‘Monadnock,’ ‘May-Day,’ -‘My Garden,’ ‘Sea-Shore,’ ‘Song of Nature,’ -‘Nature,’ ‘The Snow Storm,’ ‘Waldeinsamkeit,’ -‘Musketaquit,’ ‘The Adirondacs,’ are -varied renderings of the subject. Among the lines -which haunt the memory, take for example this -description of the <span class="locked">sea:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The opaline, the plentiful and strong,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Yet beautiful as is the rose in June,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Purger of earth, and medicine of men;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Creating a sweet climate by my breath,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Washing out harms and griefs from memory,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And, in my mathematic ebb and flow,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Giving a hint of that which changes not.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Splendid imagery and rich coloring mark the -fine passages in ‘May-Day’ describing the advance -of <span class="locked">summer:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">As poured the flood of the ancient sea</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Spilling over mountain chains,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Bending forests as bends the sedge,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Faster flowing o’er the plains,—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A world-wide wave with a foaming edge</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That rims the running silver sheet,—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">So pours the deluge of the heat</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Broad northward o’er the land,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Painting artless paradises,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Drugging herbs with Syrian spices,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">178</span> - <div class="verse indent0">Fanning secret fires which glow</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In columbine and clover-blow,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The million-handed sculptor moulds</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Quaintest bud and blossom folds,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The million-handed painter pours</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Opal hues and purple dye;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Azaleas flush the island floors,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And the tints of heaven reply.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Leaving to one side the mere external shows of -the world, and calling in science to aid imagination, -the poet strikes out stanzas like these from -the ‘Song of <span class="locked">Nature:’—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I wrote the past in characters</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of rock and fire the scroll,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The building in the coral sea,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The planting of the coal.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">And thefts from satellites and rings</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And broken stars I drew,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And out of spent and aged things</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I formed the world anew;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">What time the gods kept carnival,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Tricked out in star and flower,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And in cramp elf and saurian forms</div> - <div class="verse indent0">They swathed their too much power.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>‘Hamatreya,’ the exquisite ‘Rhodora,’ and the -musical allegory ‘Two Rivers’ are important as -showing the part played by Nature in Emerson’s -verse.</p> - -<p>Certain poems repeat (or anticipate) the ideas of -the essays. ‘Brahma,’ for example, is an incomparable -setting of the doctrine of the universal -soul or ground of all <span class="locked">things:—</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Far or forgot to me is near;</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Shadow and sunlight are the same;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The vanished gods to me appear;</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And one to me are shame and fame.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>‘The Sphinx’ announces, in a sphinx-like -manner it must be acknowledged, though with -rare beauty in individual lines, the doctrine of -man’s relation to all existences, comprehending -one phase of which man has the key to the whole. -‘Uriel’ is a declaration of the poet’s faith in good -out of evil. ‘The Problem’ teaches the imminence -of the <span class="locked">Infinite:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The hand that rounded Peter’s dome</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And groined the aisles of Christian Rome</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Wrought in a sad sincerity;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Himself from God he could not free;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">He builded better than he knew;—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The conscious stone to beauty grew.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Rich in thought and abounding in genuine -poetic gold are ‘The World-Soul,’ ‘The Visit,’ -‘Destiny,’ ‘Days’ (Emerson’s perfect poem), -‘Forerunners,’ ‘Xenophanes,’ ‘The Day’s Ration,’ -and the ‘Ode to Beauty.’</p> - -<p>‘Merlin’ and ‘Saadi’ treat of the poet and his -mission. The one is a protest against the tinkling -rhyme, an art without substance; the other -exalts the calling of the bard, but warns him that -while he has need of men and they of him, the -true poet dwells alone. Together with these -suggestive verses should be read the posthumous -fragment originally intended for a masque.<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">23</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</span></p> - -<p>Of his occasional and patriotic poems the ‘Concord -Hymn,’ sung at the dedication of the battle -monument in 1837, must be held an imperishable -part of our young literature. The winged words -of the first stanza are among the not-to-be-forgotten -things, and there is rare beauty in the second -<span class="locked">stanza:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The foe long since in silence slept;</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And Time the ruined bridge has swept</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>For the Concord celebration of 1857 Emerson -wrote the ‘Ode’ beginning</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">O tenderly the haughty day</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Fills his blue urn with fire;</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="in0">and for the ‘Jubilee Concert’ in Music Hall, on -the day Emancipation went into effect, the ‘Boston -Hymn,’ with the bold <span class="locked">stanzas:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">God said, I am tired of kings,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I suffer them no more;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Up to my ear the morning brings</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The outrage of the poor.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Think ye I made this ball</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A field of havoc and war,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Where tyrants great and tyrants small</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Might harry the weak and poor?</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The best of Emerson’s patriotic poems is the -‘Voluntaries,’ containing the often quoted and -perfect <span class="locked">lines:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">So nigh is grandeur to our dust,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">So near is God to man,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">When Duty whispers low, <i>Thou must</i>,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The youth replies, <i>I can</i>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span></p> -<p>The personal poems are ‘Good-Bye,’ ‘Terminus,’ -‘In Memoriam,’ ‘Dirge,’ and ‘Threnody.’ -The last of the group is the poet’s lament for his -first-born, the ‘hyacinthine boy’ of five years, who -died in 1842. It is hardly worth the while to -compare these exquisite verses with some other -poem born of intense sorrow with a view to determining -whether they are greater, or less. Their -wondrous beauty is as palpable as it is unresembling.</p> - -<p>Comparisons little befit Emerson the poet. -His muse was wayward. Extreme eulogists do -him injury by applying to him standards that -were none of his. They forget how he said of -himself that he was ‘not a poet, but a lover of -poetry and poets, and merely serving as a writer, -etc., in this empty America before the arrival of -poets.’ For the extravagancies of the extremists -the tempered admirers find themselves regularly -lectured, as if they were children who must have -it explained to them that Emerson was not a -Keats or a Shelley, or a Hugo.</p> - -<p>Emerson as frequently gets less than he deserves -as more. What niggardly praise is that from the -pen of an eminent living English man of letters -who can only suppose that Emerson ‘knew what -he was about when he wandered into the fairyland -of verse, and that in such moments <i>he found -nothing better to his hand</i>!’ But the ‘Threnody,’ -‘Monadnock,’ ‘May-Day,’ ‘Voluntaries,’ and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span> -‘The Problem,’ whatever else may be true of them, -are not the work of a man who found nothing -better to his hand.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_35">VII<br /> - -<span class="subhead">LATEST BOOKS</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Five</span> volumes remain to be commented on. The -first, <i>Society and Solitude</i> (so called after the initial -paper), is a group of twelve essays entitled ‘Civilization,’ -‘Art,’ ‘Eloquence,’ ‘Domestic Life,’ -‘Farming,’ ‘Works and Days,’ ‘Books,’ ‘Clubs,’ -‘Courage,’ ‘Success,’ and ‘Old Age.’ They have -mostly a practical bent. That on ‘Books’ doubtless -gives an account of Emerson’s own reading, -adequate as far as it expresses his literary preferences, -inadequate respecting completeness. For -example, Emerson must have read George Borrow, -of an acquaintance with whom he repeatedly -gives proof, but these lists contain no mention of -<i>Lavengro</i> or <i>Romany Rye</i>. Here too will be found -his famous heresy about the value of translations, -but not so radically stated by Emerson as it is -sometimes stated by those who propose to attack -Emerson’s position.</p> - -<p><i>Letters and Social Aims</i> (a volume forced from -him by the rumor that an English house proposed -to reprint his early papers from ‘The Dial’) covers -topics as diverse as, on the one hand, ‘Social Aims,’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span> -‘Quotation and Originality,’ ‘The Comic,’ and on -the other, ‘Poetry and Imagination,’ ‘Inspiration,’ -‘Greatness,’ ‘Immortality.’ There are also essays -on ‘Eloquence,’ ‘Resources,’ ‘Progress of Culture,’ -and ‘Persian Poetry.’</p> - -<p><i>Lectures and Biographical Sketches</i> consists of -nineteen pieces, among which will be found ‘Historic -Notes of Life and Letters in New England,’ -‘The Superlative,’ and the brilliant sketches -of Thoreau, of Ezra Ripley, and of Carlyle.</p> - -<p><i>Miscellanies</i> (not to be confounded with the -volume of 1849 bearing the same title) contains a -number of papers and addresses on political topics, -and is indispensable to the student of Emerson’s -life. Here will be found his speeches on John -Brown, on the Fugitive Slave Law, on Emancipation -in the West Indies, on American Civilization, -on Lincoln, and that inspiring lecture, ‘The -Fortune of the Republic.’</p> - -<p><i>Natural History of Intellect and Other Papers</i> is -made up of lectures from the Harvard University -course (1870–71) and earlier courses, and a sheaf -of papers from ‘The Dial,’ mostly on ‘Modern -Literature.’ He who deplores the curtness of the -note on Tennyson in <i>English Traits</i> will be glad -to seek comfort in this earlier tribute. Yet the -comfort may prove to be less than he would like.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Emerson’s audience is large and varied. Let us -consider a few among the varieties of those who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span> -are attracted by his genius and the charm of his -personality.</p> - -<p>To certain hardy investigators Emerson is not -a mere man of letters whose thought, radiantly -clothed, takes the philosophical form, he is a philosopher -almost in the strict sense. They find a -place for him in their classification. They know -exactly what ideas, derived from what pundits, -have come out with what new inflection in his -writings. They have done for Emerson more than -he could do, or perhaps cared to do, for himself; -they have given him a system.</p> - -<p>All this is important and valuable. No little -praise is due to results worked out with so much -courage and critical acumen. Whether the conclusions -are quite true is another question.</p> - -<p>Doubtless, too, there are readers who, taking -their cue from the class just mentioned, find their -self-love flattered as they turn the pages of the -<i>Essays</i> and the <i>Conduct of Life</i>. Not only, in -spite of dark sayings here and there, does ‘philosophy’ -prove easier and more delightful than -they were wont to think, but their estimate of their -own mental powers is immensely enlarged.</p> - -<p>There are the critics of letters whose function is -interpretative, and whose influence is restraining. -Solicitous to do their author justice, they are above -all solicitous that injustice shall not be done him -by overpraise. They bring proof that Emerson -was not a precursor of Darwin, that he was inferior<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</span> -to Carlyle, that he was not a poet, that he was -never a great and not always a good writer, that -he was apt to impose on his reader as a new truth -an old error in ‘a novel and fascinating dress,’ that -he was even capable of writing words without ideas.</p> - -<p>But the motives which draw and bind to him -the great majority of Emerson’s readers are connected -with literature rather than philosophy or -criticism. A prerogative of the man of letters is -to be read both for what he says and for the way -he says it. In the case of Emerson his thought -may not be divided from the verbal setting. ‘He -can never get beyond the English language.’ ‘No -merely French, or German, or Italian reader will -have the least notion of the magic of his diction.’<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">24</a></p> - -<p>Perhaps in the long run they get the most out -of Emerson who read him not for stimulus, for -his militant optimism, for the shock his fine-phrased -audacities give their humdrum opinions, -for his uplifting idealism (all of which they are -sure to get and profit by), but who read him for -literary pleasure, for downright good-fellowship, -and for the humor that is in him. That he attracts -a large audience of this (seemingly) unimportant -class is enough to show how little danger there -is that Emerson will be handed over to the keeping -of the merely erudite and bookish part of the -public.</p> - -<p>It is well to remember that he had no intention<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</span> -of being so disposed of. When he said, ‘My own -habitual view is to the well being of students or -scholars,’ he was careful immediately to explain -that he used the word ‘student’ in no restricted -sense. ‘The class of scholars or students ... is -a class that comprises in some sort all mankind, -comprises every man in the best hours of his life.’ -He pictures the newsboy entering a train filled with -men going to business. The morning papers are -bought, and ‘instantly the entire rectangular assembly, -fresh from their breakfast, are bending -as one man to their second breakfast.’ This was -Emerson’s student body, this was the audience he -aimed to reach.</p> - -<p>Did he reach this body? It is believed that he -did, if not always directly, then vicariously. He was -compelled as a matter of course to speak in his -own way—the impossible thing for him was to -do violence to his genius. Emerson invented the -phrase, ‘the man in the street.’ Now it is notorious -that the man in the street cares little about -the ‘over-soul.’ The mere juxtaposition of the -two expressions is comic. But Emerson did not -talk of the over-soul all the time. He had a Franklin-like -common-sense and a pithiness of speech -which are captivating. Perhaps in magnifying his -idealism we have neglected to do justice to his -mundane philosophy.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="fnanchor">19</a> Ellen (Tucker) Emerson was but twenty years of age at the -time of her death. Emerson first saw her in December, 1827. -They were married about two years later.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="fnanchor">20</a> Cabot: <i>Emerson</i>, i, 244.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="fnanchor">21</a> G. W. Cooke: <i>An Historical and Biographical Introduction -to accompany</i> <span class="smcap">The Dial</span> <i>as reprinted in numbers for The -Rowfant Club</i> [Cleveland], 1902.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="fnanchor">22</a> Emerson to Carlyle, Oct. 30, 1840.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="fnanchor">23</a> ‘The Poet,’ printed in the appendix of the definitive edition -of Emerson’s <i>Poems</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="fnanchor">24</a> Richard Garnett.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">189</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_7" class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="VII">VII<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>Edgar Allan Poe</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>R. W. Griswold</b>: ‘Memoir of the Author’ prefixed to -the <i>Works of Edgar A. Poe</i>, vol. iii, 1850.</p> - -<p><b>E. C. Stedman</b>: <i>Edgar Allan Poe</i>, 1881.</p> - -<p><b>J. H. Ingram</b>: <i>Edgar Allan Poe, his Life, Letters, and -Opinions</i>, 1880.</p> - -<p><b>G. E. Woodberry</b>: <i>Edgar Allan Poe</i>, ‘American Men -of Letters,’ fourth edition, 1888.</p> - -<p><b>J. A. Harrison</b>: <i>Life and Letters of Edgar Allan Poe</i> -[1902–03].</p> - -<p><b>Emile Lauvrière</b>: <i>Edgar Poe, sa Vie et son Œuvre, -étude de psychologie pathologique</i>, 1904.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_36">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Poe</span> was of Irish extraction. His great-grandfather, -John Poe, came to America about -1745 and settled near Lancaster, Pennsylvania. -John Poe’s son David (known in the annals of -Baltimore as ‘old General Poe’) rendered notable -services to his country during the Revolution. -Lafayette remembered him well and during a visit -to Baltimore in 1824 asked to be taken to the -place where Poe was buried. ‘Ici repose un cœur -noble,’ said Lafayette as he knelt and kissed the -old patriot’s grave.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">190</span></p> - -<p>Of General Poe’s six children, the eldest, David, -was to have been bred to the law, but his tastes -led him first to the amateur and then to the professional -stage. He married a young English actress, -Mrs. Elizabeth (Arnold) Hopkins. They -had three children, William, Edgar, and Rosalie. -Edgar (afterwards known as Edgar Allan) was -born in Boston, Massachusetts, on January 19, -1809.</p> - -<p>The young family suffered the petty miseries -incident to the life of strolling players, and became -at one time very poor. The circumstances of -David Poe’s death and the place of his burial are -unknown. When Mrs. Poe died at Richmond, -Virginia, in December, 1811, Edgar was taken by -Mrs. John Allan, the wife of a highly respected -merchant of that city, and was brought up as a -child of the house.</p> - -<p>The Allans were in England from 1815 to 1820. -During this time Poe was placed at Manor House -School, Stoke Newington. He afterwards attended -the English and Classical School in Richmond and -on February 14, 1826, matriculated at the University -of Virginia. His connection with the University -ceased in December of the same year. He -left behind him a reputation for marked abilities, -but he is said to have lost caste by his recklessness -in card playing. Allan positively refused to -pay the youth’s gambling debts, which amounted -to twenty-five hundred dollars.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">191</span></p> - -<p>Placed in Allan’s counting-house, Poe was unhappy -and rebellious, and finally disappeared. He -declared in after years that he went abroad to offer -his services to the Greeks. What he really did -was to enlist in the United States army under the -name of Edgar A. Perry. During the summer of -1827 he was with Battery H of the First Artillery -at Fort Independence, Boston. In August of that -year he published <i>Tamerlane and Other Poems, by a -Bostonian</i>. The edition was small and the pamphlet -has become one of the rarest of bibliographical -curiosities.</p> - -<p>Battery H was sent to Fort Moultrie, South -Carolina, in October, 1827, and a year later to -Fortress Monroe, Virginia. At some time during -this period Poe must have made his whereabouts -known to the Allans. Mrs. Allan, who was tenderly -attached to Poe, may have succeeded in bringing -about an understanding between the youth and -his foster father. When she died (in February, -1829) Poe lost his best friend.</p> - -<p>Allan, however, did what he could to forward -the young man’s newest ambition, which was to -enter the Military Academy at West Point. He -paid for a substitute in the army and wrote letters -to men who were influential in such matters, with -the result that Poe was enrolled at the Academy -on July 1, 1830. He gave his age as nineteen -years and five months. His prematurely old look -led to the invention of the story that the appointment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">192</span> -was really procured for Poe’s son, but the -son having died the father had taken his place.</p> - -<p>While the question of the appointment was -pending, Poe spent some time in Baltimore and -there published his second volume of verse, <i>Al -Aaraaf, Tamerlane, and Minor Poems</i> (1829).</p> - -<p>The accounts of his life at the Academy are not -so divergent as to be contradictory. One classmate -noted the youth’s censorious manner: ‘I -never heard him speak in terms of praise of any -English writer, living or dead.’ Excelling in -French and mathematics, Poe by intentional neglect -of military duty brought about his own dismissal. -He was court-martialled and left West -Point on March 7, 1831. He had previously -taken subscriptions among his friends for a new -book of verse. It was published in New York -(1831) under the title of <i>Poems</i>, ‘second edition,’ -and was dedicated to ‘the U. S. Corps of Cadets,’ -who are said to have been disappointed at finding -in its pages none of the local squibs with which -the author had been wont to amuse them.</p> - -<p>Poe is next heard of in Baltimore, where he -seems to have made his home with his father’s -sister, Mrs. Maria Clemm, a widow with one child, -Virginia. In 1833 ‘The Saturday Visiter’ of Baltimore -offered two prizes—one hundred dollars -for a story, fifty for a poem. Poe submitted a -manuscript volume entitled ‘Tales of the Folio -Club,’ and was given one award for his famous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">193</span> -‘MS. Found in a Bottle.’ Had not the conditions -of the contest precluded giving both prizes -to the same person, he would have received the -other award for his poem ‘The Coliseum.’</p> - -<p>Through John P. Kennedy, one of the judges -in the contest, Poe came into relations with T. W. -White, the proprietor of ‘The Southern Literary -Messenger,’ published at Richmond. His contributions -were heartily welcomed. White then -invited Poe to become his editorial associate. The -offer was accepted and Poe went to Richmond. -Mrs. Clemm and Virginia followed, and in May, -1836, Poe was married to his cousin. A private -marriage is said to have taken place at Baltimore -the preceding September.</p> - -<p>The arrangement entered into by White and -Poe was most propitious. The proprietor of -the ‘Messenger’ had obtained the services of a -young man with a positive genius for the work in -hand,—a young man who was able to contribute -such tales as ‘Berenice,’ ‘Morella,’ ‘Hans Pfaall,’ -‘Metzengerstein,’ besides poems, miscellanies, -and caustic book-criticisms. On the other hand, -Poe had, if a small, at least a regular income. He -could not buy luxury with a salary of five hundred -and twenty dollars, but it was a beginning, and an -increase was promised. Moreover, he was in the -hands of a man who regarded him with affection no -less than admiration. Unfortunately the arrangement -was not to last. Poe had become the victim<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">194</span> -of a hereditary vice.<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">25</a> Whether he drank much -or little is of less consequence than the fact that -after a period of indulgence he was wholly unfitted -for work. Once when Poe was temporarily in -Baltimore, White wrote him that if he returned -to the office it must be with the understanding -that all engagements were at an end the moment -he ‘got drunk.’ Kennedy explained Poe’s leaving -the ‘Messenger’ thus: He was ‘irregular, -eccentric, and querulous, and soon gave up his -place.’</p> - -<p>From Richmond, Poe went to New York, -attracted by some promise in connection with a -magazine. He lived in Carmine Street, and Mrs. -Clemm contributed to the family support by taking -boarders. In July, 1838, was published <i>The -Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym</i>. A month later -Poe removed to Philadelphia.</p> - -<p>He contributed to annuals and magazines and -had a hand in a piece of hack-work, <i>The Conchologist’s -First Book</i> (1839). This same year he became -assistant editor of ‘Burton’s Gentleman’s -Magazine and American Monthly,’ a periodical -owned by the actor, William E. Burton, and held -his position until June, 1840. The irregularity<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">195</span> -and querulousness which Kennedy had remarked -led to misunderstandings. How the two men differed -in policy becomes plain from a letter to Poe -in which Burton says: ‘You must, my dear sir, -get rid of your avowed ill feelings towards your -brother authors.’ There was a quarrel, and Poe, -who had some command of the rhetoric of abuse, -described Burton as ‘a blackguard and a villain.’</p> - -<p>The year 1840 was notable in the history of -American letters, for then appeared the first collected -edition of Poe’s prose writings, <i>Tales of the -Grotesque and Arabesque</i>. The edition, of seven -hundred and fifty copies, was in two volumes and -contained twenty-five stories, among them ‘Morella,’ -‘William Wilson,’ ‘The Fall of the House -of Usher,’ ‘Ligeia,’ ‘Berenice,’ and ‘The Conversation -of Eiros and Charmion’.</p> - -<p>Poe, a born ‘magazinist,’ cherished the ambition -of editing a periodical of his own in which, as he -phrased it, he could ‘kick up a dust.’ He secured -a partner and actually announced that ‘The Penn -Magazine’ would begin publication on January 1, -1841. Compelled to postpone his project, he undertook -the editorship of ‘Graham’s Magazine,’ a -new monthly formed by uniting the ‘Gentleman’s,’ -which Graham had bought, and ‘The Casket.’ -From February, 1841, to June, 1842, Poe contributed -to every number of the new magazine, printing, -among other things, ‘The Murders in the Rue -Morgue,’ ‘The Mystery of Marie Rogêt,’ and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">196</span> -‘The Masque of the Red Death.’ Griswold succeeded -him in the editorial chair. Poe gave as a -reason for resigning his place ‘disgust with the -namby-pamby character of the magazine.’ In the -hope of bettering his fortune, he sought a place -in the Philadelphia Custom House, but was unsuccessful.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding frequent set-backs, he had it -in his power at any time to attract public notice. -In 1843 he won a hundred-dollar prize for his -story ‘The Gold-Bug,’ printed in the ‘Dollar -Newspaper,’ and he lectured with success on ‘The -Poets and Poetry of America.’ But the field was -barren and Poe determined on going to New York. -Within a week after his arrival in that city (April, -1844) he printed in ‘The Sun’ his famous ‘Balloon -Hoax.’ In October he began work on ‘The -Evening Mirror,’ Willis’s paper, and on January -29, 1845, ‘The Raven’ appeared in its columns -and was the poetical sensation of the day. The -next month he lectured on American Poetry in -the library of the New York Historical Society. -Dissatisfied with the ‘Mirror,’ he accepted a proposition -from C. F. Briggs to become one of the -editors of ‘The Broadway Journal.’ Later Poe -became the sole editor, and for a brief time enjoyed -the ambition of his life, the control of a paper of -his own. He is said to have doubled the circulation -in the four months during which he filled the -editorial chair. Unfortunately he lacked capital<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">197</span> -and could by no means secure it. ‘The Broadway -Journal’ stopped publication.</p> - -<p>While editing the ‘Journal’ Poe was invited to -read an original poem before the Boston Lyceum. -He gave a juvenile piece, and when criticised, defended -himself with curious want of tact. That he -might lose no opportunity to alienate his contemporaries, -he began publishing in ‘Godey’s Lady’s -Book’ a series of papers entitled ‘The Literati,’ -in which he gave free rein to his propensity to -‘kick up a dust.’ The irony of his situation might -well excite pity. He who most loathed a combination -of literature and fashion plates was driven -for support to the journals which made such a -combination their chief feature.</p> - -<p>At the close of 1845 was published <i>The Raven -and Other Poems</i>, the first collected edition of Poe’s -verse. Occasionally the poet was seen at literary -gatherings, where he left the most agreeable impression -by his manner, appearance, and conversation. -But his fortunes steadily declined, and in -1846, after he had moved to Fordham, a suburb -of New York, he fell into desperate straits. His -frail little wife, always an invalid, grew steadily -worse. An appeal was made through the journals -in behalf of the unfortunate family. Mrs. Poe died -on January 30, 1847. Her husband’s grief was so -poignant that it is with amazement one reads of -the strange affairs of the heart following this event.</p> - -<p>Recovering from the severe illness which followed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">198</span> -his wife’s death, Poe resumed work. He -lectured and he wrote. <i>Eureka</i> was published early -in 1847. The consuming desire to own and edit -a magazine was no less consuming, and he made -some progress towards founding ‘The Stylus.’</p> - -<p>The summer of 1849 Poe spent in Richmond -and was received with cordiality. He proposed -marriage to Mrs. Shelton of that city, a wealthy -widow, somewhat older than himself, and was accepted. -On the last of September he started for -New York to get Mrs. Clemm and bring her to -Richmond. He was found almost unconscious on -October 3 at Baltimore, in a saloon used as a voting -place, was taken to a hospital, and died at five -o’clock on the morning of October 7, 1849.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_37">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">POE’S CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Poe’s</span> wilfulness in marring his own fortunes bordered -on fatuity. At an age when men give over -youthful excesses merely because they are incongruous, -he had not so much as begun to ‘settle -down.’ The appropriate period for sowing wild -oats is brief at best. Nothing justifies an undue -prolongation. It were absurd to take the lofty tone -with a man of genius because at the age of seventeen -he carried to extreme the indulgences characteristic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">199</span> -of the youth of his time, or because at -eighteen he ran away from a book-keeper’s desk -to join the army. Impulsiveness and vacillation -are not wholly bad things at eighteen; but at thirty -they are ridiculous.</p> - -<p>Poe’s abuse of liquor and opium has long been -well understood, and the question of his responsibility -handed over to the decision of the medical -faculty. If many of his troubles sprang from this -abuse, many more arose out of his unwillingness -to recognize the fact that he was a part of society, -not an isolated and self-sufficient being. As a -genius he was entitled to his prerogative. He was -also a man among men and under the same obligations -to continued fair dealing, courtesy, patience, -and forbearance as were his fellows. In these matters -he was notoriously deficient. No one could -have been more eager for praise and sympathy than -Poe. He asked for both and received in the measure -of his asking. Men of influence helped him -ungrudgingly. They lent him money, commended -his work, defended him at first from the criticism -of those who thought they had suffered at his -hands; but it was to no purpose. By his perversity -and capriciousness (as also by an occasional -display of that which in a less highly endowed -man than he would have been called malevolence) -Poe alienated those who were most inclined to -befriend him. Nevertheless he wondered that -friends fell away.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">200</span></p> - -<p>With a powerful mind, a towering imagination, -a natural command of the technical part of literature, -which he improved by tireless exercise, and -with no little spontaneity of productive energy, -Poe remained a boy in character, self-willed, -spoiled, ungrateful, petulant. The sharper the -lash of fortune’s whip on his shoulders, the more -rebellious he became.</p> - -<p>The affair of the Boston Lyceum illustrates -Poe’s singular disregard of what is expected of -men supposed to know the ways of the world. A -Southern paper commenting on this affair said -that Poe should not have gone to Boston. The -implication was that as Poe had been attacking -the New Englanders for years he could not expect -fair treatment. Poe had indeed often attacked -the ‘Frogpondians,’ as he enjoyed calling them, -and they invited him to come and read an original -poem on an occasion of some local importance. -This may have been a mark of innocence on the -part of the ‘Frogpondians;’ it can hardly be -construed as indicative of narrowness or prejudice. -Poe accepted their hospitality apparently in the -spirit in which it was offered, read one of his old -poems, and declared afterward that he wrote it -before completing his tenth year, and that he considered -it would answer sufficiently well for an -audience of Transcendentalists: ‘It was the best -we had—for the price—and it <i>did</i> answer -remarkably well.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">201</span></p> - -<p>The episode is of no importance save as it illustrates -Poe’s attitude towards the game of life. -Poe expected other men to play the game strictly -according to the rules, for himself he would play -the game in his own way. And he did. But he -could not go on breaking the rules indefinitely. -They who had his real interest at heart told him -as much. Simms, the novelist, wrote Poe in July, -1846, that he deeply deplored his misfortunes—‘the -more so as I see no process for your relief -but such as must result from your own decision -and resolve.’ The letter should be read in its -entirety. It does honor to the writer’s manly -nature, and it throws no little light on the enigmatic -character of Poe.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_38">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE PROSE WRITER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Poe’s</span> genius was essentially journalistic. In his -prose writing he aimed at an immediate effect, and -he knew exactly how to produce it. The journalist -does not in general write with a view to the -influence his paragraph will produce week after -next. The paper will have disappeared week after -next, if not day after to-morrow. Though his -theme be the eternal verities, the journalist must -write as if he had but the one chance to speak on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">202</span> -that subject. He will therefore be direct, positive, -clear, seeking to persuade, convince, irritate, amuse.</p> - -<p>The most obvious characteristics of Poe’s style -are found in his clarity, his vividness, his precision, -in the dense shadows and the high lights, in the -hundred unnamed but distinctly felt marks of the -journalistic style. Whatever he proposes to do, -that he does. There is no fumbling. Even his -mysteries are as certain as the stage effects in a -spectacular drama; they seem to come at the -turning of an electric switch or the inserting of a -blue glass before the lime light. In reality the -process is much more complicated. Other magicians -have essayed to produce like effects by turning -the same switch, with disastrous result.</p> - -<p>Poe was a diligent seeker after literary finish. -He was painstaking, and would polish and retouch -a paragraph when to the eye of a good -judge there was nothing left to do by way of improvement. -‘He seemed never to regard a story -as finished.’<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">26</a></p> - -<p>He was over emphatic at times, and like -De Quincey, many of whose irritating mannerisms -he had caught, made a childish use of italics. But -he had no need of these adventitious supports. It -was enough for him to state a thing in his inimitable -manner. While his vocabulary was for the -most part simple, he was not without his verbal -affectations. He loved words surcharged with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">203</span> -poetic suggestion. A lamp never hangs from the -ceiling, it ‘depends.’ One of his favorite words -is ‘domain.’ The black ‘tarn’ which mirrors the -house of Usher he could have called by no other -term. ‘Lake,’ or ‘pond,’ or ‘pool’ would not -have done. The word must be remote, suggestive, -mysterious.</p> - -<p>His style often glows with prismatic colors, but -the colors seem to be refracted from ice. There -is no warmth, no sweetness, no lovable and human -quality. All the pronounced characteristics -of Poe’s style are intensely and coldly intellectual. -It is easier to admire his use of language than to -like it.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_39">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>TALES OF THE GROTESQUE AND -ARABESQUE</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">By</span> virtue of his journalistic gift, Poe resembled -the author of <i>Robinson Crusoe</i>. He could not, like -Defoe, have become general literary purveyor to -the people, but he was quite ready to profit by -what was uppermost in the public mind. <i>The -Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym</i> is an illustration, -as it is also a good example of Poe’s art in its -most mundane form. It recounts the adventures -of a runaway lad at sea. Mutiny, drunkenness,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">204</span> -brawling, murder, shipwreck, cannibalism, madness, -are the chief ingredients of the book. It is -minute, circumstantial, prolix, matter of fact. The -air of verisimilitude is increased by an alternation -of episodes of thrilling interest with tedious accounts -of how a cargo should be stowed, and the -object and method of bringing a ship to. Only at -rare intervals does Poe’s peculiar genius flash out.</p> - -<p>As the longest of his writings the <i>Narrative</i> has -a peculiar value. By it we are able to get some -notion of his power for ‘sustained effort,’ to use -a phrase that always irritated him. That power -was certainly not great; perhaps it was never fairly -tested. <i>The Journal of Julius Rodman</i> is a second -attempt at the same kind of fiction. Poe was less -happy in descriptions of the prairie than of the sea; -the interest of the <i>Journal</i> is feeble.</p> - -<p>In these fictions the author holds fast to tangible -things. Pym and Rodman might have had the -adventures they recount. In another group of -stories Poe leavens fact with imagination. Such are -‘The Balloon Hoax,’ ‘The Unparalleled Adventure -of one Hans Pfaall,’ ‘A Descent into the -Maelström,’ and the ‘MS. Found in a Bottle.’ -Real or alleged science is compounded with the -elements of wonder and mystery. And with these -elements comes an increase of power.</p> - -<p>Poe, who was never backward in giving himself -the credit he thought his due, often failed to understand -where his own most marvellous achievements<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">205</span> -lay. In ‘Hans Pfaall’ he claimed originality -in the use of scientific data. Had his stories -only this to recommend them, they would long -since have been forgotten. Nothing so quickly -becomes old-fashioned as popular science. The -display of knowledge about aerial navigation in -‘Hans Pfaall’ perhaps made a brave show in 1836, -but it is childish now. A Hans Pfaall of the -Twentieth Century would descend on Rotterdam -in a dirigible balloon, and if questioned would be -found to entertain enlightened views on storage -batteries. Poe talked glibly about sines and cosines -and brought noisy charges of astronomical -ignorance against his brother writers, but it was -not in these things that his genius displayed itself, -it was rather in the way this wonder-worker makes -one aware of the illimitable stretches of space, the -appalling vastness, the silence, the mystery, terror, -and majesty of Nature. He is the clever craftsman -in his account of how the Dutch bellows-mender -started on his aerial travels. But when in two or -three paragraphs Poe conveys a sense of height so -terrific that the plain fireside reader, indisposed -to balloon ascensions, grasps the arms of his chair -and clings to the floor with the toes of his slippers -lest he fall—then does he display a power with -which popular science has nothing to do.</p> - -<p>This is true of ‘A Descent into the Maelström.’ -What scientific fact went into the composition of -the piece appears to have been taken from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">206</span> -<i>Encyclopædia Britannica</i>, but the valuable part, the -sense of life and movement, the crash of the storm, -the roar of the waves, the shriek of the vortex, like -the cry of lost souls, all this is not to be found in -encyclopædias. The story can be read any number -of times and its magical power felt afresh each -time. But the first reading cannot be described -by so tame a phrase as a literary pleasure, it is an -experience.</p> - -<p>Another masterpiece is the ‘MS. Found in a -Bottle.’ The din of the storm is not easily got -out of one’s ears. With the unnamed hero of the -tale we ‘stand aghast at the warring of wind and -ocean’ and are chilled by the ‘stupendous ramparts -of ice, towering away, into the desolate -sky.’</p> - -<p>In another group of stories, ‘The Gold-Bug,’ -the gruesome ‘Murders in the Rue Morgue,’ -‘The Mystery of Marie Rogêt,’ and ‘The Purloined -Letter,’ the author fabricates mysteries -for the express purpose of unravelling them afterwards. -Poe, who seldom attempts the creation of -a character, actually created one in the person of -his famous detective. Dupin is a living being in a -world peopled for the most part with shadows.</p> - -<p>Poe professed not to think much of his detective -stories. The ‘ratiocinative’ tale is not a high -order of literary achievement. Poe shares the -honors accruing from the invention of such puzzles -with Wilkie Collins, Gaboriau, and the ‘great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">207</span> -‘Boisgobey,’ and they in turn with the most sensational -of sensation mongers.</p> - -<p>‘The Gold-Bug’ afforded the author a vehicle -for giving expression to his delight in cryptography, -at the same time he availed himself of the perennial -human interest in the prospect of unearthing -buried treasure. ‘The Mystery of Marie Rogêt’ -was based on a contemporary murder case. It contains -a minimum of that in which Poe often revelled, -namely physical horror, and a maximum of -the ratiocinative element. ‘The Purloined Letter’ -is in lighter vein, and illustrates the comedy side of -Dupin’s adventures. Chevalier and minister cross -swords with admirable grace, but no blood is drawn.</p> - -<p>The masterpiece of the group is ‘The Murders -in the Rue Morgue.’ Genuinely original, blood-curdling, -the story depends for its real force not -on the ingenious unravelling of a frightful mystery, -but on the sense of nameless horror which creeps -over us as little by little the outré character of the -tragedy is disclosed. We realize that in the dread -event of being murdered one might have a choice -as to how it was done. The predestined victim -might even pray to die by the hands of a plain -God-fearing assassin and not after the manner of -Madame L’Espanaye.</p> - -<p>Of the stories classified as tales of conscience, -‘William Wilson,’ ‘The Man of the Crowd,’ -‘The Imp of the Perverse,’ ‘The Tell-Tale Heart,’ -and ‘The Black Cat,’ the first is not only the best,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">208</span> -but is also one of the best of all stories in that -genre. The image of bodily corruption is not -present and the interest is held by perfectly legitimate -means. ‘The Black Cat’ is a fearful and -repulsive piece, and at the same time characteristic. -Poe hesitated at nothing when it came to working -out his theme. He who had such absolute control -of the materials of his art too seldom practised -reticence in exhibiting the gruesome details of a -scene of cruelty.</p> - -<p>‘The Fall of the House of Usher’ is a representative -story, if not absolutely the best illustration -of Poe’s genius. The motive of premature -burial haunts him here as often elsewhere. But -the emphasis of this tragedy of a race is laid where -it belongs, in the terror of the thought of approaching -madness. Poe wrote many stories which -can be described each as the fifth act of a tragedy. -It may be doubted whether he surpassed ‘The -Fall of the House of Usher.’</p> - -<p>‘Berenice,’ ‘Ligeia,’ and ‘Morella’ are highly -successful experiments in the realm of the morbidly -imaginative, and might be grouped under -Browning’s discarded title of ‘Madhouse Cells.’ -The themes are monstrous, and are only saved -from being absurd by the author’s consummate -ability to carry the reader with him. Poe could -scale a fearful and slippery height, maintaining -himself with the slenderest excuse for a foot-hold. -A dozen times you would say he must fall, and a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">209</span> -dozen times he passes the perilous point with -masterly ease. In the hands of a lesser artist than -he, how utterly absurd would be a scene like that -in ‘Ligeia’ where the opium-eater watches by the -bedside of his dead wife.</p> - -<p>‘Metzengerstein’ and ‘A Tale of the Ragged -Mountains’ are stories of metempsychosis. ‘The -Cask of Amontillado’ and ‘Hop-Frog’ turn on -the motive of revenge. ‘The Pit and the Pendulum,’ -an episode of the Inquisition, is a study of -the preternatural acuteness of the mind while the -body undergoes torture. ‘The Assignation’ is a -Venetian tale of love and intrigue, and would -have been conventional enough in the hands of -any one but Poe. The most powerful story in -the group is ‘The Red Death,’ a lurid drama of -revelry in the midst of pestilence.</p> - -<p>Difficult as are the themes, and skilful as is -the handling, these tales are in a way surpassed -by the extraordinary group of romances in which -Poe describes the meeting of disembodied spirits. -‘The Power of Words,’ ‘The Colloquy of Monos -and Una,’ and ‘The Conversation of Eiros and -Charmion’ are excursions into a world unknown -to the rank and file of literary explorers, a world -where the most adventurous might well question -his ability to penetrate far. In these supermundane -pieces, in the prose-poems ‘Silence’ and -‘Shadow,’ in ‘Ligeia,’ and in ‘The Domain of -Arnheim,’ Poe’s art is indeed magical.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">210</span></p> - -<p>Poe seems to have been fully persuaded in his -own mind that he had the gift of humor. The -extravaganzas and farcical pieces bulk rather large -in his collected writings. In too many of them -the author cuts extraordinary mental capers in -the most mirthless way. ‘The Literary Life of -Thingum Bob, Esq.,’ ‘How to write a Blackwood -Article’ and its sequel, ‘A Predicament,’ satires -all on the ways of editors and men of letters, are -examples of Poe’s manner as a humorist. The -rattling monologue and dry, hard, uncontagious -laughter of a music-hall comedian is the nearest -parallel. The effect is wholly disproportionate to -the bewildering activity of the performer.</p> - -<p>In farces like ‘The Spectacles,’ ‘Loss of Breath,’ -and ‘The Man that was Used up,’ the motives -would be revolting were not the characters manifestly -constructed of wood or papier-maché. The -figures are neither more nor less than marionettes. -If Madame Stephanie Lalande (aged eighty-one) -dashes her wig on the ground with a yell and -dances a fandango upon it, ‘in an absolute ecstasy -and agony of rage,’ it is what may be expected -in a pantomime. Whoever wishes to laugh at the -hero of the Bugaboo and Kickapoo campaign, -when he is discovered sans scalp, sans palate, sans -arm, leg, and shoulders, is at liberty to do so, but -he must laugh as do children when Punch beats -his wife.</p> - -<p>There is no question of the vivacity displayed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">211</span> -in these pieces. ‘Bon-Bon,’ ‘The Duc de l’Omelette,’ -‘Lionizing,’ ‘Never bet the Devil your -Head,’ ‘X-ing a Paragrab,’ ‘Diddling Considered -as one of the Exact Sciences,’ ‘The -Business Man,’ and ‘The Angel of the Odd’ -are sprightly with an uncanny sprightliness. It -must always be a matter for astonishment that -Poe could have written them. The mystery of their -being read is explained by the taste of the times.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, ‘The Devil in the Belfry’ -is genuinely amusing. The description of the -peaceful estate of the pleasant Dutch toy village -of Vondervotteimitiss, where the very pigs wore -repeaters tied to their tails with ribbons, and the -sad story of the destruction of all order and regularity -by the advent of the foreign-looking young -man in black kerseymere knee-breeches, are most -agreeably set forth. This extravaganza is not only -the best of Poe’s humorous sketches, but ranks -with the work of men who were better equipped -and more gifted in such work than was Poe.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_40">V<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE CRITIC</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Poe</span> brought into American criticism a pungency -which it had hitherto lacked. He was entirely independent, -and had urbanity companioned independence<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">212</span> -the value of his critical work would have -been greatly augmented. He could praise with -warmth and condemn with asperity; he could not -maintain an even temper. Swayed by his likes -and his dislikes, he was but too apt to grow extravagantly -commendatory or else spiteful. ‘He -had the judicial mind but was rarely in the judicial -state of mind.’<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">27</a> He was not unwilling to give -pain, and easily persuaded himself that he did so -in a just cause. There was a pleasurable sense of -power in the consciousness of being feared. Yet -the pleasure thus derived can never be other than -ignoble. A man of Poe’s genius can ill afford to -waste his time in attacking other men of genius -whose conceptions of literary art differ from his -own. Still less can he afford to assail the swarm of -petty authors whose works will perish the sooner -for being let alone. Of all harmless creatures -authors are the most harmless and should be allowed -to live their innocent little lives. But Poe -took literature hard, and authors had a disquieting -effect on him.</p> - -<p>Accused of ‘mangling by wholesale,’ Poe denied -the charge, declaring that among the many critiques -he had written during a given period of ten -years not one was ‘wholly fault-finding or wholly -in approbation.’ And he maintained that to every -opinion expressed he had attempted to give weight -‘by something that bore the semblance of a reason.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">213</span> -Is there another writer in the land who -‘can of his own criticisms conscientiously say the -same’? Poe prided himself on an honesty of motive -such as animated Wilson and Macaulay. He -denied that his course was unpopular, pointing to -the fact that during his editorship of the ‘Messenger’ -and ‘Graham’s’ the circulation of the -one had risen from seven hundred to five thousand, -and of the other ‘from five to fifty-two thousand -subscribers.’ ‘Even the manifest injustice of a -Gifford is, I grieve to say, an exceedingly popular -thing.’<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">28</a></p> - -<p>Poe’s critical writings take the form of reviews -of books (‘Longfellow’s Ballads,’ ‘Moore’s “Alciphron,”’ -‘Horne’s “Orion,”’ ‘Miss Barrett’s -“A Drama of Exile,”’ ‘Hawthorne’s Tales,’ -etc.), polemical writings (‘A Reply to “Outis”’), -essays on the theory of literary art (‘The Poetic -Principle,’ ‘The Rationale of Verse’), brief notes -(‘Marginalia’), and short and snappy articles on -contemporary writers (‘The Literati’).</p> - -<p>His theory of literary art may be studied in the -lecture entitled ‘The Poetic Principle,’ where he -maintains that there is no such thing as a long -poem, the very phrase being ‘a contradiction of -terms.’ A poem deserves its title ‘only inasmuch -as it excites by elevating the soul.’ This excitement -is transient. When it ceases, that which is -written ceases to be poetical. Poe even sets the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">214</span> -precise limit of the excitement—‘half an hour at -the very utmost.’</p> - -<p>He then attacks ‘the heresy of The Didactic,’ -protesting against the doctrine that every poem -should contain a moral and the poetical merit estimated -by the moral. ‘The incitements of Passion, -or the precepts of Duty, or even the lessons -of Truth, may be introduced into a poem with -advantage, but the true artist will always contrive -to tone them down in proper subjection to that -Beauty which is the atmosphere and the real essence -of the poem.’</p> - -<p>Poe then proceeds to his definition of the ‘poetry -of words,’ which is, he says, ‘<i>The Rhythmical -Creation of Beauty</i>.’ Its sole arbiter is Taste. -‘With the Intellect, or with the Conscience, it has -only collateral relations. Unless incidentally, it -has no concern whatever either with Duty or with -Truth.’</p> - -<p>In his concrete criticism Poe never hesitated to -prophesy. ‘I most heartily congratulate you upon -having accomplished a work which will <i>live</i>,’ he -wrote to Mrs. E. A. Lewis. Of some poem of -Longfellow’s he said that it would ‘not live.’ -Possibly he was right in both cases, but how could -he know? Here is shown the weakness of Poe’s -critical temper. He affirmed positively that which -cannot positively be affirmed.</p> - -<p>He was a monomaniac on plagiarism, forever -raising the cry of ‘Stop thief.’ Yet Poe, like<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">215</span> -Molière, whom he resembled in no other particular, -‘took his own’ whenever it pleased him to -do so, and he was not over solicitous to advertise -his sources. He was in the right. If poets advertised -their sources, what would be left for the commentators -to do? Poe hinted that Hawthorne -appropriated his ideas, and he flatly accused Longfellow -of so doing. He was punished grotesquely, -for Chivers, the author of <i>Eonchs of Ruby</i>, accused -Poe (after the latter’s death, when it was -quite safe to do so) of getting many of his best -ideas from Chivers.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_41">VI<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE POET</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Poe’s</span> claim to mastership in verse rests on a -handful of lyrics distinguished for exquisite melody -and a haunting beauty of phrase. That part -of the public which estimates a poet by such -pieces as find their way into anthologies regards -Poe primarily as the author of ‘The Bells’ and -‘The Raven.’ If popularity were the final test -of merit, these strikingly original performances -would indeed crown his work. After sixty years, -neither has lost in appreciable degree the magical -charm it exerted when first the weird melody fell -upon the ear. Each is hackneyed beyond description;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">216</span> -each has been parodied unmercifully, murdered -by raw elocutionists, and worse than murdered -by generations of school-children droning -from their readers, about the ‘midnight dreary’ -and the ‘Runic rhyme.’ But it is yet possible -to restore in a measure the feeling of astonished -delight with which lovers of poetry greeted the -advent of these studies in the musical power of -words.</p> - -<p>The practical and earnest soul will find little to -comfort him in the poetry of Poe. It teaches -nothing, emphasizes no moral, never inspires to -action. The strange unearthly melodies must be -enjoyed for the reason that they are strange and unearthly -and melodious. The genius of the poet has -travelled</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">By a route obscure and lonely,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Haunted by ill angels only,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Where an Eidolon, named Night,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">On a black throne reigns upright,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="in0">and we can well believe that it comes</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">From an ultimate dim Thule,—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Out of Space—out of Time.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Wholly out of space and time was he who wrote -‘Dreamland,’ ‘The City in the Sea,’ ‘The -Haunted Palace,’ ‘Israfel,’ ‘The Sleeper,’ and -‘Ulalume.’ It is idle to ask of these poems something -they do not pretend to give, and it can -hardly be other than uncritical to describe them as -‘very superficial.’ They are strange exotic flowers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">217</span> -blooming under conditions the most adverse, a -fresh proof that genius is independent of place -and time.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>In Poe’s work as a whole there is unquestionably -too much of brooding over death, the grave, mere -physical horrors. Since his genius lay that way, he -must be accepted as he was. But it is permitted -to regret, if not the thing in itself (the domain of -art being wide), at least the excess. Poe speaks -of certain themes which are ‘too entirely horrible -for the purposes of legitimate fiction. These the -mere romanticist must eschew, if he do not wish -to offend or to disgust.’ And having laid down -this doctrine, Poe goes on to relate the story of -‘The Premature Burial.’ It turns out a vision. -But the narrator affirms that he was cured by the -experience, that he read no more ‘bugaboo tales—<i>such -as this</i>. In short I became a new man and -lived a man’s life.’ Without assuming that Poe -spoke wholly from the autobiographical point of -view, we may believe the passage to contain a -measure of his actual thought.</p> - -<p>We may claim for him a more important place -in our literature than do his radical admirers whose -fervent eulogy too often takes the form of the contention -that Poe was greater than this or that -American man of letters. His strong, sombre -genius saved the literature from any danger of -uniformity, relieved it at once and forever from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">218</span> -the possible charge of colorlessness. That strangeness -of flavor which a late distinguished critic notes -as a mark of genius is imparted by Poe’s work to -our literary product as a whole. Here indeed was -‘the blossoming of the aloe.’</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="fnanchor">25</a> ‘... There is one thing I am anxious to caution you -against, & which has been a great enemy to our family, I hope, -however, in yr case, it may prove unnecessary, “A too free -use of the Bottle” ...’ William Poe to E. A. Poe, 15th -June, 1843. Harrison’s <i>Poe</i>, vol. ii, p. 143.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="fnanchor">26</a> G. E. Woodberry.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="fnanchor">27</a> E. C. Stedman.</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">220</span></p><div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="fnanchor">28</a> ‘Reply to “Outis.”’</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">221</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_8" class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="VIII">VIII<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>Samuel Longfellow</b>: <i>Life of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i>, -second edition, 1886, and <i>Final Memorials of ... -Longfellow</i>, 1887.</p> - -<p><b>W. D. Howells</b>: <i>Literary Friends and Acquaintance</i>, -1900.</p> - -<p><b>G. R. Carpenter</b>: <i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i>, ‘Beacon -Biographies,’ 1901.</p> - -<p><b>T. W. Higginson</b>: <i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i>, -‘American Men of Letters,’ 1902.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_42">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> Longfellows are descendants of William -Longfellow of Horsforth in Yorkshire, who -came to New England ‘about 1676,’ settled in -Newbury, and married Anne Sewall, a sister of -Samuel Sewall, the first chief-justice of Massachusetts. -‘Well educated but a little wild’ is one of -several illuminating phrases used to describe this -young Yorkshireman. He joined the expedition -against Quebec under Sir William Phipps (1690) -and perished in a wreck on the coast of Anticosti. -One of his sons, Stephen, a blacksmith, had a son -who was graduated at Harvard, became a schoolmaster<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">222</span> -in Falmouth (Portland), and held important -offices in the town government. His son, the -third Stephen, grandfather of the poet, was judge -of the court of common pleas, and representative -of his town in the legislature.</p> - -<p>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was born at -Portland, in the District of Maine, on February -27, 1807. He was the second son of Stephen -Longfellow, a prominent lawyer, conspicuous in -political life, a member of the Massachusetts legislature, -and afterwards, when Maine acquired statehood, -a representative for his state in Congress. The -mother of the poet, Zilpah (Wadsworth) Longfellow, -was a daughter of General Peleg Wadsworth, -whose adventures during the Revolution bordered -on the romantic. Through the Wadsworths the -poet was a descendant of John Alden and Priscilla -Mullens.</p> - -<p>At the age of thirteen Longfellow printed in -the Portland ‘Gazette’ his boyish rhymes on -‘The Battle of Lovell’s Pond.’ He studied at -private schools and at the Portland Academy, entered -Bowdoin College, Brunswick, Maine, in the -Sophomore year, and was graduated in 1825, the -fourth in a class of thirty-eight. That he stood so -high seemed to him ‘rather a mystery.’ Before -leaving college he had begun contributing to the -‘United States Literary Gazette,’ a new bi-monthly, -published in Boston and edited by Theophilus -Parsons. In one year seventeen of his poems appeared<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">223</span> -in the ‘Gazette,’ for which payment was -made at the rate of two dollars a column. Five of -these early poems were reprinted in <i>Voices of the -Night</i>.</p> - -<p>At the Commencement of 1825 the trustees of -Bowdoin had determined to establish a professorship -of modern languages. The chair was promised -Longfellow when he should have fitted himself for -it by study abroad. He sailed from New York in -May, 1826, provided by George Ticknor with -letters of introduction to Irving, Eichhorn, and -Southey. He travelled in France, Spain, Italy, -and Germany, mastered the Romance languages, -planned certain prose volumes, and announced to -his sister Elizabeth that his poetic career was finished. -In August, 1829, he was back in America.</p> - -<p>His appointment being confirmed and the stipend -fixed at eight hundred dollars (together with -another hundred for services as college librarian), -Longfellow entered on his duties. During the next -five and a half years he corrected bad French and -Italian exercises, heard worse viva voce translations, -in brief, was a pedagogue in all homely and -trying senses of the word. With any one save a -born drill-master the class-room soon loses novelty. -In spite of the knowledge that he was useful -in a chosen field of work, more than happy in his -home-life (he had married, in 1831, Miss Mary -Storer Potter of Portland), Longfellow felt the -narrowness of his surroundings. Bowdoin was a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">224</span> -little college and Brunswick a village. The young -professor was ambitious. In his own phrase, he -wanted a stage on which he could ‘take longer -strides and speak to a larger audience.’ At one -time he thought of buying the Round Hill School, -and visited Northampton to look over the ground. -Fortune had something better in store for him. -Ticknor was about to resign the chair of modern -languages at Harvard, and proposed as his successor -Longfellow, whose translation of the <i>Coplas</i> -of Manrique (1833) had attracted his notice. The -position was formally offered and accepted; it -was understood that Longfellow was to spend a -year and a half in Europe before taking up his -work.</p> - -<p>Accompanied by his young wife, Longfellow -crossed the ocean in April, 1835, and passed the -summer in Stockholm and Copenhagen, studying -the Scandinavian languages. In the autumn he -was in Holland. Mrs. Longfellow died the last -of November. Longfellow went to Heidelberg -for the winter, and to Switzerland and the Tyrol -for the spring and summer, and in December -(1836) was at Cambridge preparing his college -lectures.</p> - -<p>He lodged at the famous colonial mansion in -Brattle Street known as Craigie House, in a room -that had once been Washington’s. When Longfellow -first applied, old Mrs. Craigie, deceived by -his youthful appearance, told him that she had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">225</span> -‘resolved to take no more students into the house.’ -Craigie House passed into the possession of -Worcester, the lexicographer. Worcester sold it -to Nathan Appleton, whose daughter Longfellow -married in 1843. It then became the property of -Mrs. Longfellow.</p> - -<p>At Harvard the exactions of work were not like -those in the smaller college, strictly pedagogical. -Longfellow had time for literature and for society. -The years were richly productive, as the following -bibliographical lists show.</p> - -<p><i>Outre-Mer, A Pilgrimage beyond the Sea</i>, 1835; -<i>Hyperion, a Romance</i>, 1839; <i>Voices of the Night</i>, -1839; <i>Ballads and Other Poems</i>, 1842; <i>Poems on -Slavery</i>, 1842; <i>The Spanish Student</i>, 1843; <i>The -Waif, a Collection of Poems</i>, 1845 (edited); <i>The -Poets and Poetry of Europe</i>, 1845 (edited); <i>The Belfry -of Bruges and Other Poems</i>, 1846; <i>The Estray, -a Collection of Poems</i>, 1847 (edited); <i>Evangeline, -a Tale of Acadie</i>, 1847; <i>Kavanagh, a Tale</i>, 1849; -<i>The Seaside and the Fireside</i>, 1850; <i>The Golden -Legend</i>, 1851; <i>The Song of Hiawatha</i>, 1855.</p> - -<p>After eighteen years of service at Harvard, -Longfellow, in 1855, resigned his professorship, -handing over its responsibilities to a worthy successor, -James Russell Lowell. Released from -academic duties, he was able to give himself unreservedly -to literary work. Even in these new -conditions he enjoyed less freedom than would -be supposed. Longfellow had become a world-famous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">226</span> -poet and was compelled to pay in full -measure the penalties of fame. The demands on -his time were enormous. As his reputation increased -there was a proportionate increase in the -army of visitors which besieged his door. The -uniform kindness of their reception encouraged -hundreds more to come.</p> - -<p>The beautiful serenity of Longfellow’s domestic -life was broken in upon by a frightful tragedy. -One July morning in 1861 Mrs. Longfellow’s -dress caught fire from a lighted match. It was -impossible to save her, and she died the following -day. The poet never recovered from the shock of -her death. How crushing the blow was may be -faintly conceived from that poem, ‘The Cross of -Snow,’ found among his papers after his death.</p> - -<p>During the last quarter century of his life -Longfellow published the following books: <i>The -Courtship of Miles Standish</i>, 1858; <i>Tales of a -Wayside Inn</i>, 1863; <i>Flower-de-Luce</i>, 1867; <i>The -New England Tragedies</i>, 1868; <i>Dante’s Divine -Comedy, a Translation</i>,<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">29</a> 1867–70; <i>The Divine Tragedy</i>, -1871; <i>Christus, a Mystery</i>, 1872;<a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">30</a> <i>Three -Books of Song</i>, 1872; <i>Aftermath</i>, 1873; <i>The -Masque of Pandora</i>, and <i>Other Poems</i>, 1875; -<i>Poems of Places</i>, 1876–79 (edited); <i>Kéramos and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">227</span> -Other Poems</i>, 1878; <i>Ultima Thule</i>, 1880. The -posthumous volumes were <i>In the Harbor</i>, 1882, -and <i>Michael Angelo</i>, 1884.</p> - -<p>All the customary honors with which literary -achievement may be recognized were bestowed on -Longfellow. Some were formal and academic, scholastic -tributes to scholastic achievement. Others -were spontaneous and popular, an expression of -the heart. Two illustrations will suffice to show -the range of the poet’s influence. In 1869, during -Longfellow’s last journey in Europe, the degree -of D. C. L. was conferred on him by the University -of Oxford. In 1879, when the tree which -overhung ‘the village smithy’ was felled, an armchair -was made of the wood, and given to the poet -by the school-children of Cambridge. Both these -tributes were necessary. Each is the complement -of the other. Taken together, they symbolize the -characteristics of the man and the artist.</p> - -<p>Of all American poets Longfellow reached the -widest audience. And it was with a feeling of -personal bereavement that every member of that -vast audience heard the news of his death at Cambridge, -on March 24, 1882.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">228</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_43">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">LONGFELLOW’S CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">As</span> a young man Longfellow was pretty much -like other young men, fond of society and fond -of dress. At Cambridge the sober-minded were a -little disturbed by the brilliancy of his waistcoats. -In the Thirties it was permitted men, if they -would, to array themselves like birds of paradise. -Longfellow appears in some degree to have availed -himself of the privilege. After a visit to Dickens -in London in 1842 the novelist wrote Longfellow -that boot-maker, hosier, trousers-maker, and coat-cutter -had all been at the point of death. ‘The -medical gentlemen agreed that it was exhaustion -occasioned by early rising—to wait upon you at -those unholy hours!’ An English visitor who -saw Longfellow in 1850 thought him too fashionably -dressed with his ‘blue frock-coat of Parisian -cut, a handsome waistcoat, faultless pantaloons, -and primrose colored “kids.”’</p> - -<p>In middle age his social instinct was as strong -as ever, but he cared less for ‘society.’ He restricted -himself to the companionship of his -friends, holding always in reserve time for his -dependants, of whom he had more than a fair -share.</p> - -<p>Longfellow was large-hearted. He liked people<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">229</span> -if they were likable and sympathized with them -if they were unattractive or unfortunate. He was -open-handed, a liberal giver. Adventurers preyed -upon him. He endured them with patient strength. -When their exactions became outrageous, he made -an effort to be rid of them. If unsuccessful, he -laughed at his own want of skill and resigned -himself to be imposed on a little longer. A weaker -man would have sent these bores and parasites -about their business at once.</p> - -<p>Incapable of giving pain to any living creature, -he could not understand the temper which -prompts another to do so. Fortunately the violence -or malignity of criticism had little effect on -him. He could even be amused by it. Of Margaret -Fuller’s ‘furious onslaught’ on him in the -‘New York Tribune,’ Longfellow said, ‘It is what -‘might be called a bilious attack.’</p> - -<p>He disliked publicity whether in the form of -newspaper chronicle of his doings or recognition -in public places. He thought it absurd that because -Fechter had dined with him this unimportant -item must be telegraphed to Chicago and printed -in the morning journals. Fond as he was of the -theatre, he sometimes hesitated to go because of -the interest his presence excited. It was thought -extraordinary that he was willing to read his poem -‘Morituri Salutamus’ at the fiftieth anniversary -of his class at Bowdoin. He was delighted when -he found he was to stand behind the old-fashioned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">230</span> -high pulpit; ‘Let me cover myself as much as -possible. I wish it might be entirely.’</p> - -<p>One trait of Longfellow’s character has been -over-emphasized—his gentleness. He was indeed -gentle; but continual harping on that string has -created the impression that he was gentle rather -than anything else. In consequence we have a -legendary Longfellow in whom all other traits of -character are subordinated to the one. His amiability, -his sense of justice, his entire freedom from -selfishness and vanity, and his genuine modesty, -which led him even when he was right and his -neighbor wrong to avoid giving needless pain by -intimating to the neighbor how wrong he was—all -contributed to hide the more forceful and emphatic -qualities. But the qualities were there.</p> - -<p>Nothing is easier than to multiply illustrations -of this poet’s gracious traits of character. Holmes -epitomized all eulogy when he said of Longfellow: -‘His life was so exceptionally sweet and musical -that any voice of praise sounds almost like a discord -after it.’</p> - -<h3 id="sec_44">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE POET</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Americans</span> sometimes disturb themselves needlessly -over the question whether Longfellow was -a great poet. It is absolutely of no importance<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">231</span> -whether he was or was not. Of one thing they may -be sure,—he was a poet. Song was his natural -vehicle of expression. He had a masterly command -of technical difficulties of his art. Language became -pliant under his touch. Taking into account -the range of his metres, the uniform precision -with which he handled words, and the purity of -his style, Longfellow is eminent among American -poetical masters.</p> - -<p>His sonnets are exquisite. His ballads, like -‘The Skeleton in Armor,’ have no little of the -fresh unstudied character which charms us in old -English ballad literature, a something not to be -traced to the spirit alone but to the technique as -well. The twenty-two poems of ‘The Saga of -King Olaf’ show an almost extraordinary metrical -power.</p> - -<p>It must also be remembered that Longfellow -popularized for modern readers the so-called English -hexameter. <i>Evangeline</i> was a metrical triumph, -considering it wholly aside from the innate beauty -of the story or the artistic handling of the incidents. -The poet did not foresee his success. In -fact, as early as 1841, in the preface to his translation -of Tegnér’s <i>Children of the Lord’s Supper</i>, -Longfellow speaks of the ‘inexorable hexameter, -in which, it must be confessed, the motions of -the English muse are not unlike those of a prisoner -dancing to the music of his chains.’ But -here he was hampered by his theory of translation,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">232</span> -by his anxiety to render as literally as he could the -text of the original. When he took the matter into -his own hands and moulded the verse according -to his own artistic sense, it became another thing. -Wholly aside from the pleasure <i>Evangeline</i> has -given countless readers, it is something to have -broken down prejudice against the hexameter to -the extent of drawing out an indirect compliment -from Matthew Arnold, whose self-restraint in the -matter of giving praise was notorious.<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">31</a> Scholars -have by no means withdrawn their opposition to the -English hexameter. That a more liberal temper -prevails is largely due to Longfellow.</p> - -<p><i>Evangeline</i> had a stimulating effect on one English -poet of rare genius, Arthur Hugh Clough. A -reading of the Tale of Acadie immediately after a -reperusal of the <i>Iliad</i> led to the composition of -<i>The Bothie of Tober-na-Vuolich</i>.<a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">32</a></p> - -<p>Another of Longfellow’s triumphs was so great -as to make it difficult for any one to follow him. -<i>Hiawatha</i> succeeded both because of the metre and -in spite of it. Any one can master this self-writing -jingle. ’Tis as easy as lying. One hardly knows -how facile newspaper parodists amused themselves -before they got <i>Hiawatha</i>. Holmes explained the -ease of the measure on physiological grounds. -We do not lisp in numbers, but breathe in them. -Did we but know it, we pass our lives in exhaling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">233</span> -four-foot rhymeless trochaics.<a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">33</a> To write a poem -in the metre of the <i>Kalevala</i> still remains, with all -its specious fluency, an impossible performance for -any one not a poet. Thus Longfellow’s success had -a negative and restraining effect. He opened the -field to whoever cared to experiment with the -hexameter, but closed it, for the present at least, -to any rhythmical inventions calculated however -remotely to suggest the metre of his Indian edda.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_45">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>OUTRE-MER, HYPERION, KAVANAGH</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> most popular of American poets first challenged -public attention as a writer of prose. <i>Outre-Mer</i> -is a group of pieces after the manner of -Irving. <i>Hyperion</i> is a romance ‘in the old style,’ -and shows the influence of Jean Paul Richter. -<i>Kavanagh</i>, published ten years after <i>Hyperion</i>, is a -novel.</p> - -<p>Neither of the first two books is marked by a -buoyant Americanism. <i>Outre-Mer</i> does not, for -example, suggest <i>A Tramp Abroad</i>, and certainly -Paul Flemming is no kinsman of ‘Harris.’ In -other words, Europe was as yet too remote to be -made the subject of easy jest. Men did not ‘run -over’ to the Continent. The trip cost them dear<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">234</span> -in time and money, and was not without the element -of anticipated danger. Travelling America -was unsophisticated and viewed the Old World -with childlike curiosity. Foreign lands were transfigured -in the romantic haze through which they -were seen.</p> - -<p>The chapters of <i>Outre-Mer</i> were written by a -man too intoxicated with the charm of European -life to be annoyed by the petty irritations that -worry hardened tourists. Rouen, Paris, Auteuil, -Madrid, El Pardillo, Rome in midsummer, afford -the Pilgrim only delight. As in all books of the -kind there are interpolated stones, and in this book -interpolated literary essays. Every page betrays -the student and the lover of literature, who quotes -Jeremy Taylor and Sir Thomas Browne at Père la -Chaise, James Howell at Venice, and Shakespeare -everywhere.</p> - -<p><i>Hyperion</i> is steeped in sentiment—almost in -sentimentality. Such a book could only have been -written when the heart was young. It is a mistake, -however, to read the volume as an autobiography; -the author objected to its being so read. -More important than the love story are the romantic -descriptions of the Rhine and the Swiss -Alps and the golden atmosphere enveloping it all. -Both these books have a common object, namely, -to interpret the Old World to the New.</p> - -<p>When <i>Outre-Mer</i> was published an admirer -said that the author of <i>The Sketch Book</i> must look<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">235</span> -to his laurels. The praise implied was extravagant, -but not groundless. Longfellow’s prose has a -measure of the sweetness and urbanity which we -associate with Irving. Both writers are classic in -their serenity, and if highly artificial at times never -absurdly stilted. They often appear in old-fashioned -dress, but they wear the costume easily and -it becomes them. The modern reader, with a taste -dulled by high seasoning, marvels how the grandparents -could find pleasure in <i>Hyperion</i>. It would -be to the modern reader’s advantage to forswear -sack for a while and get himself into a condition to -enjoy what so greatly delighted the grandparents.</p> - -<p>Besides a group of literary essays (published -in his collected works under the title of ‘Driftwood’) -Longfellow wrote a novel of New England -life, <i>Kavanagh</i>, which suffered by coming too -soon after <i>Evangeline</i>. It seems colorless when -placed beside the romantic tale of Acadie. Yet -one can well afford to take time to learn of Mr. -Pendexter’s griefs, and incidentally to become -acquainted with Billy Wilmerdings, who was turned -out of school for playing truant, and ‘promised his -mother, if she would not whip him, he would -experience religion.’ Hawthorne was enthusiastic -over <i>Kavanagh</i>; he, however, disclosed the -secret of its unpopularity when he said to Longfellow: -‘Nobody but yourself would dare to write -so quiet a book.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">236</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_46">V<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>VOICES OF THE NIGHT, BALLADS, SPANISH -STUDENT, BELFRY OF BRUGES, THE -SEASIDE AND THE FIRESIDE</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Longfellow</span> served the cause of his art in two -ways: first, he was an original poet, having a -genius which, if not profound, or brilliant, or massive, -or bewilderingly fresh and new, was eminently -poetical and eminently attractive; second, -he was an enthusiastic interpreter of the poetry of -other lands through the medium of trustworthy -and graceful translations.</p> - -<p>In <i>Voices of the Night</i>, his earliest volume of -verse, the translations, from Manrique, Lope de -Vega, Dante, Charles d’Orléans, Klopstock, and -Uhland, outnumber the original pieces almost -two to one. Their characteristic is fidelity in spirit -and letter. They illustrate the genius of a poet -who found pleasure in giving wider audience to -the work of men he loved, and who did his utmost -to preserve the singular qualities of these -men.</p> - -<p>Longfellow’s second volume, <i>Ballads and Other -Poems</i>, contains only four translations, but one of -them is Tegnér’s <i>Children of the Lord’s Supper</i>, -in three hundred and fifty hexameter verses. <i>The -Belfry of Bruges</i> contains a handful of translations<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">237</span> -from the German, including a lyric of Heine’s -done in a way to cause regret that Longfellow -did not put more of the <i>Buch der Lieder</i> into English. -In <i>The Seaside and the Fireside</i> is given entire -‘The Blind Girl of Castèl Cuillè’ by the barber-poet -Jasmin.</p> - -<p>The translations bulk so large and are so plainly -a labor of love that it would seem as if Longfellow -regarded such work an important part of his poetic -mission. At the present time there is no need -to urge the translator to ‘aggrandize his office.’ -He does so cheerfully. Sometimes it is done for -him. Are we not told that Fitzgerald was a greater -poet than Omar Khayyám? In 1840 the office -had not grown so great.</p> - -<p>This interpretative work by no means ended -when Longfellow’s fame as a creative poet was at -its height and there was every incentive to build -for himself. When compiling (with Felton’s aid) -the <i>Poets and Poetry of Europe</i> he translated many -pieces for the volume. He gave years to reproducing -in English the majesty of Dante’s verse, -counting himself fortunate if his transcript, made -in all reverence and love, approached its great -original. This disinterestedness in the exercise -of his art is so greatly to his honor that praise -becomes impertinent. Catholic in his attitude -toward workers in the field of poesy, Longfellow -recognized the truth of the line</p> - -<p class="center"> -Many the songs, but song is one.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">238</span></p> - -<p>Longfellow’s early verse had all the requisites -for popularity; it is clear, melodious, simple in its -lessons, tinged with sentiment and melancholy, -dashed with romantic color, and abounding in -phrases which catch the ear and pulsate in the -brain. The poet voices the longings, regrets, fears, -aspirations, the restlessness, or the faith, which go -to make up the warp and woof of everyday life. -An allegory, a moralized legend, a song, a meditation, -a ballad,—these are what we find in turning -the leaves of <i>Voices of the Night</i> or the <i>Ballads</i>. -Here is a certain popular quality not to be attained -by taking thought. ‘A Psalm of Life,’ -‘Flowers,’ ‘The Beleaguered City,’ ‘The Village -Blacksmith,’ ‘The Rainy Day,’ ‘Maidenhood,’ -‘Excelsior,’ ‘The Bridge,’ ‘The Day is Done,’ -‘Resignation,’ ‘The Builders,’ are a few among -many illustrations of the type of verse which carried -Longfellow’s name into every home where poetry is -read. The range of emotions expressed is of the -simplest. There is feeling, but no thinking. The -robust reader who perchance has battened of late -on sturdy diet, like <i>Fifine at the Fair</i>, hardly knows -what to make of these poems, so little resistance -do they offer to the mind. The meaning lies on -the surface. But it is no less true that their essence -is poetical. The one thing never lacking is -the note of distinction. The human quality to -be found in such a poem as the ‘Footsteps of -Angels’ almost overpowers the poetic element.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">239</span> -Nevertheless the poetry is there, and by virtue of -this Longfellow’s early work lives.</p> - -<p>Other poems show his scholar’s love for the -past. They express the natural longing felt by -an inhabitant of a crude new land for countries -where romance lies thick because history is ancient. -‘The Belfry of Bruges’ and ‘Nuremberg’ -are examples. Moreover Longfellow’s ballads -have genuine quality. ‘The Skeleton in Armor’ -illustrates his study of Scandinavian literature. -‘The Wreck of the Hesperus’ is based on an -actual incident which came under his notice. The -criticism reflecting on this ballad because the poet -had never seen the reef of Norman’s Woe, is superfine. -Longfellow was born and reared almost -within a stone’s throw of the Atlantic. His knowledge -of the ocean began with his first lessons in -life. His sea poems are distinctive. ‘The Building -of the Ship,’ ‘The Fire of Driftwood,’ ‘Sir -Humphrey Gilbert,’ ‘The Secret of the Sea,’ -‘The Lighthouse,’ ‘Chrysaor,’ and ‘Seaweed,’ -whether or not they deserve the praise Henley -gives them, will always be accounted among Longfellow’s -characteristic pieces.</p> - -<p>Two other works may be noted in this section: -the <i>Poems on Slavery</i> and a play, <i>The Spanish Student</i>. -The first of these, though academic, shows -how early Longfellow took his rank with the unpopular -minority. <i>The Spanish Student</i>, a play -based on <i>La Gitanilla</i> of Cervantes, was written<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">240</span> -<i>con amore</i>, and ‘with a celerity of which I did not -think myself capable.’ Longfellow had great -hopes of its success, though he seems not to have -been ambitious for a dramatic presentation. The -success was to come through the reader. <i>The -Spanish Student</i> shows that Longfellow could have -written good acting plays had he chosen to submit -to the irritations and rebuffs which are the -inevitable preliminary to dramatic good fortune.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_47">VI<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>EVANGELINE, HIAWATHA, MILES -STANDISH, TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><i>Evangeline</i> and <i>Hiawatha</i> mark the climax of -Longfellow’s contemporary popularity and may -be regarded as the principal bulwarks of his fame. -There is an anecdote to the effect that Hawthorne, -to whom the subject of Evangeline was proposed, -was not attracted by it, while Longfellow seized -on it eagerly. Such was the divergence of their -genius. Longfellow’s mind always sought the fair -uplands of thought, checkered with alternate sunshine -and shadow; it did not willingly traverse -deep ravines, gloomy and mysterious, or haunted -groves such as those about which Hawthorne’s -spirit loved to keep. The instinct which led the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">241</span> -one poet to reject the narrative was as infallible as -that which led the other to appropriate it.</p> - -<p>The tale of Acadie is engrossing in its very -nature, and whether told in prose or verse must -always invite, even chain, the attention. It is dramatic -without being melodramatic. The characters -are not mere ‘persons’ of the drama, they are types. -Evangeline will always stand for something more -than the figure of an unhappy Acadian girl bereft -of her lover. As Longfellow has painted her, she -is the incarnation of beauty, devotion, maidenly -pride, self-abnegation. So too of the other characters, -Gabriel, old Basil, Benedict; each has that -added strength which a character conceived dramatically -is bound to have if it shall prove typical -as well.</p> - -<p>Longfellow gave himself little anxiety about the -historic difficulties of the Acadian question. It -was enough for him that these unhappy people -were carried away from their homes and that much -misery ensued. He painted the French Neutrals -as a romancer must. Father Felician was not -sketched from the Abbé Le Loutre, nor was life -in the actual Grand Pré altogether idyllic.</p> - -<p><i>Evangeline</i> aroused interest in French-American -history. For example, Whewell wrote to Bancroft -to say that he feared Longfellow had some -historical basis for the story and to ask for information.</p> - -<p>In the Plymouth idyl of the choleric little captain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">242</span> -who believed that the way to get a thing well -done was to do it one’s self, and who exemplified -his theory by having his secretary make a proposal -of marriage for him, Longfellow made one -of his most fortunate strokes. <i>The Courtship of -Miles Standish</i> showed the poetic possibilities in -the harsh, dry annals of early colonial life. The -wonder is that so few adventurers have cared to -follow the path indicated.</p> - -<p>Bound up with the story of Priscilla and John -Alden is a handful of poems to which Longfellow -gave the collective title of ‘Birds of Passage.’ -Here are several fine examples of his art: ‘The -Warden of the Cinque-Ports,’ ‘Haunted Houses,’ -‘The Jewish Cemetery at Newport,’ ‘Oliver Basselin,’ -‘Victor Galbraith,’ ‘My Lost Youth,’ ‘The -Discoverer of the North Cape,’ and ‘Sandalphon.’ -It is a question whether in these eight poems we -have not a small but well-nigh perfect Longfellow -anthology. Certainly no selection of his writings -can pretend to be characteristic which does not -contain them.</p> - -<p><i>Hiawatha</i> was not intended for a poetic commentary -on the manners and customs of the -North American Indians, though that impression -sometimes obtains. It is a free handling of Ojibway -legends drawn from Schoolcraft’s <i>Algic Researches</i> -and supplemented by other accounts of -Indian life. The grossness of the red man’s -character, his cruelty, his primitive views of cleanliness,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">243</span> -are wisely kept in the background, and his -noble and picturesque qualities brought to the -front. The psychology is extremely simple. This -Indian edda must be enjoyed for its atmosphere -of the forest, its childlike spirit, and its humor. -Hiawatha was a friend of animals (when he was -not their enemy), and understood them even better -than writers of modern nature-books. One -does not need to be young again to enjoy the account -of Hiawatha’s fishing in company with his -friend the squirrel. The sturgeon swallows them -both, and the squirrel helps Hiawatha get the -canoe crossways in the fish, a timely service in -recognition of which (after both have been rescued) -he receives the honorable name of Tail-in-air. -In fact, the poem abounds in observations of -animal life which as yet await the sanction of John -Burroughs.</p> - -<p>Taking a series of poems on the half-real, half-mythical -King Olaf, adding thereto a group of -contrasting tales from Spanish, Italian, Jewish, and -American sources, assigning each narrative to an -appropriate character, binding the whole together -with an Introduction, Interludes, and a Conclusion, -Longfellow produced the genial <i>Tales of a -Wayside Inn</i>. The device of the poem is old, but -it can always be given a new turn. Adapted to -prose as well as verse, it may be used ‘in little,’ -as Hardy has done in <i>A Few Crusted Characters</i>, -or in larger form, as in <i>A Group of Noble Dames</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">244</span></p> - -<p>No secret was made of the fact that the ‘Wayside -Inn’ was the ‘Red Horse Inn’ of Sudbury, -Massachusetts, or that the characters, the Sicilian, -the Poet, the Student, the Spanish Jew, the Musician, -and the Theologian, were real people, friends -of Longfellow.<a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">34</a></p> - -<p>The reader who takes up <i>Tales of a Wayside -Inn</i> knows by instinct that he may not look for -the broad and leisurely treatment, the wealth of -beauty and harmony, which characterize <i>The -Earthly Paradise</i> of Morris. That need not, however, -prevent him from enjoying the <i>Tales</i> on -quite sufficient grounds. The poems are often too -brief; some are mere anecdotes ‘finished just as -they are fairly begun.’ We are prepared for a -more generous treatment.</p> - -<p>Though not written for that complex and formidable -entity ‘the child-mind,’ two poems in the -collection, ‘Paul Revere’s Ride’ and ‘King Robert -of Sicily,’ are beloved of school-children and dear -to the amateur elocutionist. The most original of -the tales is ‘The Saga of King Olaf,’ drawn from -the <i>Heimskringla</i>, and appropriately put into the -lips of the Musician. It is a poem redolent of the -sea and the forest. The theme was congenial to -Longfellow, who loved ‘the misty world of the -north, weird and wonderful.’</p> - -<p>Prompted by the good fortune of <i>Tales of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">245</span> -Wayside Inn</i>, the poet was led to make additions -to it. A second part appeared in <i>Three Books of -Song</i>, a third part in <i>Aftermath</i>. With these fifteen -additional tales the three parts were then collected -into a single volume.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_48">VII<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>CHRISTUS, JUDAS MACCABÆUS, PANDORA, -MICHAEL ANGELO</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">As</span> early as 1841 Longfellow had conceived the -idea of an ‘elaborate poem ... the theme of -which would be the various aspects of Christendom -in the Apostolic, Middle, and Modern -Ages.’ In 1851 <i>The Golden Legend</i> appeared, -with no word to indicate that it was the second -part of a trilogy. Seventeen years more elapsed -and <i>The New England Tragedies</i> came from the -press, to be followed three years later by <i>The -Divine Tragedy</i>. The three parts were then arranged -in chronological order and the completed -work given the title of <i>Christus, a Mystery</i>.</p> - -<p>One may guess why the first part of the trilogy -was the last to be published. A bard the most -indubitably inspired might question his power to -meet the infinite requirements of so lofty a theme. -Longfellow’s <i>Divine Tragedy</i> has received less than -due meed of praise. It has an austere beauty. If<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">246</span> -a reader can be moved by the Scripture narrative, -he can scarcely remain unmoved by this reverent -handling of the story of the Christ. Through many -lines the poet follows the Scriptural version almost -to the letter, bending the text only enough to -throw it into metrical form. Often the dialogue -seems bald and the transitions abrupt because the -poet allows himself the least degree of liberty. -This severity and repression in the treatment are -one source of that power which <i>The Divine Tragedy</i> -certainly has.</p> - -<p>Part two, <i>The Golden Legend</i>, is a retelling of -the story of Prince Henry of Hoheneck. Here, -Longfellow reproduces with skill the light and -color of mediæval life, if not its darkness and diablerie. -The street-preaching, the miracle-play in the -church, the revel of the monks at Hirschau, and -the lawless gayety of the pilgrims are all painted -with a clear and certain touch, but in colors almost -too pale, too delicate. Longfellow had not the -courage or the taste to handle these themes with -the touch of almost brutal realism they seem to -require.</p> - -<p>The third part of the trilogy, <i>The New England -Tragedies</i>, consists of two plays, <i>John Endicott</i> -and <i>Giles Corey of the Salem Farms</i>, one dealing -with the persecution of the Quakers, the other -with the witchcraft delusion. The first is the better. -Edith Christison’s arraignment of Norton in -the church, her trial, punishment, her return to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">247</span> -colony at the risk of her life, and the release of -the Quakers by the king’s mandamus, followed by -Endicott’s death, are vigorously depicted. The -character of the governor is finely drawn, and the -last scene between Bellingham and Endicott is a -strong and moving conception. As he bends over -the dead man, Bellingham <span class="locked">says:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">How placid and how quiet is his face,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Now that the struggle and the strife are ended!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Only the acrid spirit of the times</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Corroded this true steel. Oh, rest in peace,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Courageous heart! Forever rest in peace!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The companion play, <i>Giles Corey</i>, shows what -has been already observed, how little adapted -Longfellow’s genius was for dealing with psychological -mysteries. He could understand the mental -conditions and sympathize with persecutors and -victims, but he could not reproduce the uncanny -atmosphere enveloping the witchcraft tragedies. -<i>Giles Corey</i> is a finished study of a theme which -might have been developed into a powerful play. -It is profitable reading, yet if one would be carried -back into the horrors of that time he must go to -Hawthorne’s ‘Young Goodman Brown’ and not -to <i>Giles Corey</i>. Poets are notorious for taking -liberties with the facts of history. But according -to the late John Fiske, the poetical conception of -Cotton Mather as set forth in <i>The New England -Tragedies</i> is much nearer truth than the popular -conception of the great Puritan minister based on -the teachings of historians.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">248</span></p> - -<p>The little five-act play, <i>Judas Maccabæus</i>, is a -piece of careful workmanship, like everything to -which Longfellow put his hand, and the scene between -Antiochus and Máhala rises into passionate -energy. <i>The Masque of Pandora</i> was more to -Longfellow’s taste, and if it does not satisfy the -classical scholar, who is proverbially hard to please, -it remains an attractive setting of one of the most -attractive of mythological stories.</p> - -<p>The dramatic poem, <i>Michael Angelo</i>, though not -usually accounted Longfellow’s masterpiece, better -deserves that rank than certain more popular performances. -Besides being a lovely example of his -art, it is the expression of his maturest thought. -He kept it by him for years, working on it with -loving care, adding new scenes from time to time -and weighing critically the value of those already -written. Finally he put it to one side, and to show -that he had not entirely carried out his idea, the -words ‘A Fragment’ were subjoined to the title. -It was published after his death.</p> - -<p><i>Michael Angelo</i> is not a play, but a series of -dramatic incidents from the life of the great sculptor, -illustrating his character, his thought, his work, -his friendships. Many passages display a strength -not commonly associated with Longfellow’s poetic -genius. Little is wanting to the delineation of -Michael Angelo to create the effect of massiveness. -From the first monologue where he sits in his -studio, musing over his picture of the ‘Last Judgment,’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">249</span> -to the midnight scene where Vasari finds -him working on the statue of the Dead Christ, the -effect is cumulative. The other characters are no -less skilfully wrought. Vittoria Colonna is a -beautiful conception, lofty yet human. Equally -attractive with a more earthly loveliness is Julia -Gonzaga, her friend, she to whom one to-day was -worth a thousand yesterdays. Titian, Cellini, the -Pope and his cardinals, Vasari, Sebastiano, the old -servant Urbino, and the aged monk at Monte -Luca effectively sustain the parts assigned them, -and unite to bring into always stronger relief the -character of the unique genius whom Longfellow -has made his central figure.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_49">VIII<br /> - -<span class="subhead">LAST WORKS</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> translation of Dante was a difficult task to -which Longfellow gave himself for years with -something like consecration. It is satisfactory or -it is not, according to the point of view. He who -holds that verse can never be translated into verse, -and that a poem suffers least by being rendered in -prose, will make no exception in Longfellow’s -case. On the other hand, the reader who is not, -and who has neither the opportunity nor the -power to become a scholar in Italian, owes Longfellow<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">250</span> -an inestimable debt of gratitude. The unpoetic -accuracy of which some complain counts -for a virtue. The translation remains, with all that -can be said against it, the work of a poet.</p> - -<p>As age came on, Longfellow’s own verse, instead -of losing in charm, the rather increased. -<i>Kéramos</i>, <i>Ultima Thule</i>, and <i>In the Harbor</i> contain -many of his loveliest and most gracious poems. -‘Not to be tuneless in old age’ was his happy -fortune.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>His skill in the sentimental, homely, and obviously -moral has blinded not a few readers to -the larger aspects of Longfellow’s work. One -wearies, no doubt, of the ethical lesson that comes -with the inevitableness of fate. But there is no -need of impatience, Longfellow does not invariably -preach. Besides, all tastes must be taken into -account. Many prefer the ethical lesson, unmistakably -put.</p> - -<p>Had Longfellow been more rugged, and had -he been content to end his poems now and then -with a question mark (figuratively speaking) instead -of a full stop, there would have been much -talk about the ‘depth of his meaning;’ and had -he been frankly suggestive on tabooed topics, we -should have heard a world of chatter about ‘the -largeness of his view’ and the surprising degree -in which he was in ‘advance of his time.’ Doubtless -he lacked brute strength. Whitman could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">251</span> -have spared him a little of his own surplus, and -neither poet would have been the worse for the -transfer. Nevertheless Longfellow had abundance -of power exerted in his own way, which was not -the way of the world. What preposterous criticism -is that of Frederic Harrison, who characterizes -<i>Evangeline</i> as ‘goody-goody dribble’!</p> - -<p>Perhaps Longfellow should be most praised -for his exquisite taste. He was refined to the finger-tips, -a gentleman not alone in every fibre of -his being but in every line of his work. The poet -of the fireside and the people was an aristocrat -after all. Generations of culture seem to be packed -into his verses. In a country where so much is -flamboyant, boastful, restless, and crude, the influence -of such a man is of the loftiest and most -benignant sort.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="fnanchor">29</a> The first volume was printed in 1865 and sent to Italy in -commemoration of the six hundredth anniversary of Dante’s birth.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="fnanchor">30</a> <i>The Divine Tragedy</i>, <i>The Golden Legend</i>, and <i>The New -England Tragedies</i> reprinted in order as parts of a trilogy.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="fnanchor">31</a> Lectures <i>On Translating Homer</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="fnanchor">32</a> <i>Prose Remains of Arthur Hugh Clough</i>, p. 40.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="fnanchor">33</a> Holmes: <i>Pages from an Old Volume of Life</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="fnanchor">34</a> Luigi Monti, T. W. Parsons, H. W. Wales, Israel Edrehi, -Ole Bull, Daniel Treadwell.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">255</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_9" class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="IX">IX<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>John Greenleaf Whittier</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>W. S. Kennedy</b>: <i>John Greenleaf Whittier, his Life, Genius, -and Writings</i>, 1882.</p> - -<p><b>S. T. Pickard</b>: <i>Life and Letters of John Greenleaf Whittier</i>, -1894.</p> - -<p><b>Richard Burton</b>: <i>John Greenleaf Whittier</i>, ‘Beacon -Biographies,’ 1901.</p> - -<p><b>T. W. Higginson</b>: <i>John Greenleaf Whittier</i>, ‘English -Men of Letters,’ 1902.</p> - -<p><b>G. R. Carpenter</b>: <i>John Greenleaf Whittier</i>, ‘American -Men of Letters,’ 1903.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_50">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">John Greenleaf Whittier</span> was born at East -Haverhill, Massachusetts, on December 17, -1807. His father, John Whittier, a farmer, was -noted for probity, sound judgment, and great physical -strength. A man of few words, he always -spoke to the point, as when, in relation to public -charities with which he had officially to do, he said: -‘There are the Lord’s poor and the Devil’s poor; -there ought to be a distinction made between them -by the overseers of the poor.’ He had imperfect -sympathy with his son’s literary aspirations, but it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">256</span> -were unjust to say that he was wholly opposed to -them.</p> - -<p>Whatever lack there may have been on this -score was abundantly made up to the youth by his -beautiful and saintly mother. Abigail (Hussey) -Whittier was her husband’s junior by twenty-one -years. From her the poet inherited his brilliant -black eyes, a physical trait (mistakenly) supposed -to have been derived from the old colonial minister, -Stephen Bachiler, that enterprising and turbulent -spirit who came to America at the age of -seventy, founded cities, disputed the authority of -the clergy, and finally astonished friend and enemy -alike by marrying for the third time at the age of -eighty-nine.</p> - -<p>Young Whittier was apparently destined to the -toilsome life of his farmer ancestors. He suffered -under the ‘toughening process’ to which New -England country lads were formerly subjected, -and became in consequence a lifelong valetudinarian.</p> - -<p>With his frail physique and uncertain health the -‘Quaker Poet’ affords a marked contrast, not -alone to his own father, but to that mighty ancestor -Thomas Whittier, founder of the American -family, who at sixty-eight years of age was able to -do his share in hewing the oak timbers for a new -house in which he proposed to pass his declining -days. The building was erected about 1688. -Thomas Whittier enjoyed the use of it until his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">257</span> -death in 1696. Five generations of Whittiers were -harbored beneath its roof, and here the poet was -born. Although not a Quaker himself, Thomas -Whittier was a friend of the Friends, and for taking -the part of certain unlicensed exhorters was for -a time deprived of his rights as a freeman.</p> - -<p>Whittier was early a reader and soon devoured -the contents of his father’s slender library. So insatiable -was his thirst for books that he would walk -miles to borrow a volume of biography or travel. -At the age of fourteen he became fascinated with -the poems of Burns, and under their stimulus began -to make rhymes himself.<a id="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">35</a> On his first visit to -Boston he bought a copy of Shakespeare. Scott’s -novels he borrowed, to read them delightedly but -with a troubled conscience.</p> - -<p>His poetic aspirations were encouraged by his -elder sister, Mary, who, without Whittier’s knowledge, -sent the verses entitled ‘The Exile’s Departure’ -to the Newburyport ‘Free Press,’ a -short-lived journal edited by young William Lloyd -Garrison. They appeared in the issue of June 8, -1826. Whittier has described his emotions on first -seeing himself in print. The paper was thrown to -him by the news-carrier. ‘My uncle and I were -mending fences. I took up the sheet, and was -surprised and overjoyed to see my lines in the -“Poet’s Corner.” I stood gazing at them in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">258</span> -wonder, and my uncle had to call me several times -to my work before I could recover myself.’</p> - -<p>Other poems were offered and accepted. Curious -to see his contributor, Garrison drove over -from Newburyport to the Whittier farm. The -bashful country boy could with difficulty be persuaded -to meet his guest. Then began a lifelong -friendship not uncheckered by differences without -which friendship itself lacks zest.</p> - -<p>Garrison urged on Whittier’s parents the importance -of giving the youth an education. Backed -up by the influence of A. W. Thayer, editor of the -Haverhill ‘Gazette,’ who offered to take the lad -into his own home, Whittier got his father’s consent -to his attending the newly established Haverhill -Academy. He paid for one term of six months -by making slippers, an art he learned from one of -the farm hands, and for another term by teaching -school, which seemed to him a less enviable mode -of life than cobbling.</p> - -<p>The favor accorded his verse stimulated invention. -During 1827–28 he published, under assumed -names, nearly a hundred poems in the -Haverhill ‘Gazette’ alone. A plan for bringing -out a collection of these fugitive pieces under the -title of <i>Poems of Adrian</i> came, however, to nothing.</p> - -<p>Garrison, who had been doing editorial work in -Boston for the Colliers, publishers of ‘The Philanthropist’ -and ‘The American Manufacturer,’ -advised their getting Whittier to take his place.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">259</span> -Whittier edited the ‘Manufacturer’ from January -to August, 1829, when he was summoned home by -the illness of his father. But he had had a taste of -journalism and politics, and relished both. From -January to July, 1830, he edited the Haverhill -‘Gazette.’ His newspaper work made him acquainted -with George Prentice of ‘The New England -Review,’ published in Hartford. When -Prentice left Connecticut for Kentucky, where he -was to spend six months and write a campaign life -of Henry Clay, he urged the owners of the ‘Review’ -to engage Whittier as his substitute. Whittier -was responsible for the conduct of the paper -for a year and a half (July, 1830, to January, 1832). -In spite of many drawbacks, his father’s death, his -own illness, a disappointment in love, the period -of his Hartford residence was the happiest and the -most stimulating he had yet known. He printed -his first volume, <i>Legends of New England</i>, a medley -of prose and verse, edited <i>The Literary Remains of -John G. C. Brainard</i> (the sketch of Brainard’s life -prefixed to the volume throws much light on -Whittier’s reading), and brought out the narrative -poem <i>Moll Pitcher</i>, a story of the once famous -‘Lynn Pythoness.’</p> - -<p>On his return to Haverhill he played his part -in local politics and was talked of for Congress. -Somewhat later he was drawn into the anti-slavery -movement and for the next twenty-seven years -this was his life. He was a member of the legislature<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">260</span> -in 1835, and was reëlected the next year; but -in general terms it may be said that in publishing -<i>Justice and Expediency</i>, and in uniting himself -with the small, unpopular, and exasperating party -of Abolitionists, he sacrificed hope of political -advancement. He gave to the cause time, health, -reputation, and when he had it to give, money. In -company with Abolitionist leaders and orators he -encountered mobs and speculated philosophically -on the chance of losing his life.</p> - -<p>In 1837 he acted as a secretary to the American -Anti-Slavery Society in New York. From 1838 -to 1840 he edited ‘The Pennsylvania Freeman,’ -published in Philadelphia. During an Abolitionist -convention, Pennsylvania Hall, in which were -the offices of the ‘Freeman,’ was sacked and -burned by a pro-slavery mob. Whittier, disguised -in a wig and a long overcoat, mingled with the -rioters and contrived to save a few of his papers. -It was a more dangerous rabble than that he encountered -during the George Thomson riot at -Concord, New Hampshire, three years earlier. -Whittier once remarked that he never really -feared for his life, but that he had no mind to a -coat of tar and feathers.</p> - -<p>A true son of Essex, he soon wearied of city -life. ‘I would rather live an obscure New England -farmer,’ he said. ‘I would rather see the -sunset light streaming through the valley of the -Merrimac than to look out for many months<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">261</span> -upon brick walls, and Sam Weller’s “werry beautiful -landscape of chimney-pots.”’</p> - -<p>He really had no choice in the matter, having -been warned to give up editorial work if he would -keep his precarious hold on life. He obeyed the -warning. But with Whittier journalism was a disease. -He had a relapse in 1844, when he took -charge of the ‘Middlesex Standard’ of Lowell, -and again, in 1845–46, when he was virtual editor -of the ‘Essex Transcript’ in Amesbury.</p> - -<p>No restriction was placed on his doing work at -home. He wrote unceasingly, prose and verse, -reaching his literary audience through the ‘Democratic -Review’ and his audience of reformers -through Bailey’s paper, ‘The National Era,’ both -published in Washington. Whittier was corresponding -editor of the ‘Era’ from 1847 to 1850, -and printed in its columns, besides political articles, -such now famous poems as ‘Maud Muller,’ -‘Ichabod,’ ‘Tauler,’ and ‘The Chapel of the -Hermits.’</p> - -<p>The list of Whittier’s chief publications up to -the year 1857 contains seventeen titles: <i>Legends -of New England</i>, 1831; <i>Moll Pitcher</i>, 1832 (revised -edition 1840); <i>Justice and Expediency</i>, 1833; -<i>Mogg Megone</i>, 1836; <i>Poems written during the -Progress of the Abolition Question</i>, etc., 1837 -(unauthorized issue); <i>Poems</i>, 1838; <i>Lays of my -Home and Other Poems</i>, 1843; <i>The Stranger in -Lowell</i>, 1845; <i>Voices of Freedom</i>, 1846; <i>The Supernaturalism<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">262</span> -of New England</i>, 1847; <i>Leaves from -Margaret Smith’s Journal</i>, 1849; <i>Poems</i>, 1849;<a id="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">36</a> -<i>Old Portraits and Modern Sketches</i>, 1850; <i>Songs -of Labor and Other Poems</i>, 1850; <i>The Chapel of -the Hermits and Other Poems</i>, 1853; <i>Literary -Recreations and Miscellanies</i>, 1854; <i>The Panorama -and Other Poems</i>, 1856.</p> - -<p>The founding of the ‘Atlantic Monthly’ (1857) -gave Whittier a more assured place. His work -was sought and the pay was generous. He became -an overseer of Harvard College in 1858. -In 1860 the college made him a Master of Arts, -and in 1866 a Doctor of Laws.</p> - -<p>His home for many years was in Amesbury, -the farm at East Haverhill having been sold in -1836. After the death of his mother and younger -sister he passed much of his time with kinsfolk at -the house known as ‘Oak Knoll,’ in Danvers. -For all his admiration of women, Whittier never -married. He enjoyed allusions to a supposititious -Mrs. Whittier. Writing to his niece, Mrs. Pickard, -about some friend who was unhappy over -political defeat, Whittier said: ‘I told him I had -been in the same predicament ... and got abused -worse than he did, for I was charged with ill-treating -my wife!’</p> - -<p>Whittier was a birthright member of the Society -of Friends and influential in their councils. -His advice was much sought and freely given<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">263</span> -in terms of blended modesty, good sense, and -humor.</p> - -<p>During the last twenty years of his life Whittier -published the following volumes: <i>Home Ballads -and Poems</i>, 1860; <i>In War Time and Other Poems</i>, -1864; <i>National Lyrics</i>, 1865; <i>Snow-Bound</i>, 1866; -<i>The Tent on the Beach and Other Poems</i>, 1867; -<i>Among the Hills and Other Poems</i>, 1869; <i>Ballads -of New England</i>, 1870; <i>Miriam and Other Poems</i>, -1871; <i>The Pennsylvania Pilgrim and Other Poems</i>, -1872; <i>Mabel Martin</i>, 1874; <i>Hazel-Blossoms</i>, 1875; -<i>The Vision of Echard and Other Poems</i>, 1878; <i>The -King’s Missive and Other Poems</i>, 1881; <i>The Bay -of Seven Islands and Other Poems</i>, 1883; <i>Saint -Gregory’s Guest and Recent Poems</i>, 1886; <i>At Sundown</i>, -1892.</p> - -<p>The honors accorded him on his seventieth, -eightieth, and eighty-fourth anniversaries gave -Whittier much happiness. He was especially -pleased to learn that the bells of St. Boniface, in -Winnipeg, Manitoba (celebrated in his ‘Red River -Voyageur’), were rung for him at midnight of -December 17, 1891. Said the poet in his letter to -Archbishop Tâché: ‘Such a delicate and beautiful -tribute has deeply moved me. I shall never forget -it.’</p> - -<p>Nothing was left undone that the tenderest love -and wisest solicitude could do for his comfort. -His last illness was brief. He died at Hampton -Falls, New Hampshire, on September 7, 1892.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">264</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_51">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">WHITTIER’S CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Whittier’s</span> shyness was proverbial. Those who -knew him also knew that beneath that shyness was -a masterful spirit. Evasion and inconclusiveness -on the part of those with whom he dealt would -not avail. Whittier wanted to know where public -men stood and for what they stood. A politician -himself, he understood the art of dealing with politicians. -To a certain candidate he said: ‘Thee -cannot expect the votes of our people unless thee -speak more plainly.’ Being in great need of the -votes of ‘our people,’ the candidate was compelled -to speak at once and to use the words Whittier put -into his mouth.</p> - -<p>Another possessed of like skill in controlling -men might have grown despotic. Not so Whittier. -Tactful and conciliatory, no grain of selfishness -was to be found in his composition. He worked -for the cause alone.</p> - -<p>His physical courage, of which there are abundant -illustrations, was fully equal to his moral courage. -The nerve required to face a disciplined -enemy, as in war, is always admirable; one would -not wish to underestimate it. But it is a type of -courage not difficult to comprehend. A glamour -hangs about the battlefield. Men are carried on by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">265</span> -the esprit de corps. They do wonders and marvel -at their own courage afterwards. Facing a mob is -another matter. A mob is an assassin; the last -thing it wants is fair play. Whittier had no experiences -like those to which Bailey and Garrison -were subjected, but he had enough to try his mettle.</p> - -<p>He was one of the most modest of men, holding -his achievements, literary and otherwise, at far -lower estimate than did the public. To an anxious -inquirer Whittier said that he did not think ‘Maud -Muller’ worth serious analysis. He asked for criticism -on his verses, and was not slow to act upon -it when given. His open-mindedness is shown in -the way he accepted Lowell’s suggestion about the -refrain of ‘Skipper Ireson’s Ride.’ He defended -himself when the criticism touched his motives or -impugned his love of truth. Charged with having -boasted that his story of ‘Barbara Frietchie’ would -live until it got beyond reach of correction, Whittier -replied: ‘Those who know me will bear -witness that I am not in the habit of boasting of -anything whatever, least of all of congratulating -myself upon a doubtful statement outliving the -possibility of correction.... I have no pride of -authorship to interfere with my allegiance to truth.’</p> - -<p>He was a stanch friend, and a helpful neighbor. -His filial piety was deep—no trait of his character -was more pronounced. He was the most devoted -of sons, the best of brothers.</p> - -<p>The seriousness of Whittier’s temper and mind<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">266</span> -was relieved by a keen sense of humor which found -expression in many engaging ways. His letters -written in young manhood are at times almost -boisterously mirthful. His humor grew subdued -as he became older, but it never lost its charm. -Those who were nearest him realized how much -it contributed to making him the most companionable -of men.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_52">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE LITERARY CRAFTSMAN</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">‘I have</span> left one bad rhyme ... to preserve -my well known character in that respect,’ says -Whittier in a letter to Fields, his publisher. The -charge of laxity in rhymes was the one most often -brought against him. He labored under two capital -disadvantages; he was self-taught and he wrote -always for a moral purpose. His objection to reprinting -<i>Mogg Megone</i> grew out of the feeling, not -that it was bad poetry,—though he had no delusions -about its artistic value,—but that it was not -calculated to do good. Ethics, rather than art, -were uppermost in his thought. There has never -been question of his native power. He could be -exquisitely felicitous, but, having acquired the -habit of writing for a cause, of sacrificing nicety of -phrase for vigor of thought and rapidity of utterance, -being eager always to strike a blow at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">267</span> -critical moment, he found it difficult to write with -a dominant artistic motive. He wrote better (technically -speaking) the older he grew. It is difficult -to realize as we listen to the rich strains of his -later years that Whittier could have been as inharmonious -as he often was in the first period of -his poetic life. He confessed his defect. To Fields -he once said: ‘It’s lucky that other folks’ ears -are not so sensitive as thine.’</p> - -<p>His variety of metres, if not great, was sufficiently -ample to preclude the feeling of sameness. -His verse never comes laden with scholarly suggestion -in rhythm or thought, with the faint sweet -echoes of old-time poetry, as does Longfellow’s. -Whittier was not ‘literary,’ though he made a -noble addition to the literature of his country.</p> - -<p>Whittier’s prose has been ignored rather than -underestimated. It is clear and forceful, often impassioned, -and sometimes eloquent. Whether a -reputation could be based on it is another matter. -Certainly it has not been accorded the popular favor -it deserves. Among a thousand readers, for example, -who know <i>Snow-Bound</i> there are possibly two -or three who have read <i>Margaret Smith’s Journal</i>.</p> - -<p>Of the seven prose sketches in <i>Legends of New -England</i> not one was thought by the author worth -preserving. He also suppressed much of the contents -of the two volumes published some fifteen -years after the <i>Legends</i>. Both these later books, -<i>The Stranger in Lowell</i> and <i>The Supernaturalism of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">268</span> -New England</i>, ought to be reprinted as they came -first from Whittier’s hand.</p> - -<p><i>The Stranger in Lowell</i>, a volume of more or -less related essays, is in part a record of impressions -made on the author during a brief residence -in the new manufacturing town by the Merrimac. -The extraordinary growth of ‘The City of a Day’ -was then, and is still, a legitimate cause for wonder. -All the eighteen papers are readable, and that -entitled ‘The Yankee Zincali’ is a little classic. -Whittier’s next volume of prose, <i>The Supernaturalism -of New England</i>, consists of nine chapters -on witches, wizards, ghosts, apparitions, haunted -houses, charms, and the like. It is rather a wide -survey of the subject, from the Indian powahs to -the Irish Presbyterians who settled in New Hampshire -in 1720, and brought with them, ‘among -other strange matters, potatoes and fairies.’ Whittier -dwells on these traditions of his country with -deep interest and sets them forth with no little -humor. It is a fault of the book that he does not -dwell on them at greater length.</p> - -<p><i>Leaves from Margaret Smith’s Journal</i> is an admirable -study of colonial New England in 1678. -The style is sweet, the narrative flowing, the characters, -many of them historical, are consistent and -lifelike, and the tone of delicate irony running -through the book is most engaging. Genuinely -illuminating to the student of manners are such -passages in the journal as those describing the ordination<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">269</span> -of Mr. Brock at Reading, the meeting -at the inn with a son of Mr. Increase Mather, ‘a -pert talkative lad’ abounding in anecdotes of the -miraculous, the antics of Mr. Corbet’s negro boy -Sam, and the encounter on the way back to Boston -with the good old deacon under the influence of -flip. A strong and engrossing plot might have -made the book more popular, as it might also have -been inconsistent with the artlessness of what purports -to be a young girl’s journal.</p> - -<p><i>Old Portraits and Modern Sketches</i> is a volume -of character studies of ancient worthies (such as -Bunyan, Ellwood, Baxter, Marvell) and of two or -three moderns (like William Leggett, to whom -Whittier pays a generous tribute). <i>Literary Recreations -and Miscellanies</i> consists of a reprint of material -used in earlier books, together with a group -of reviews and other papers.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_53">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead">NARRATIVE AND LEGENDARY VERSE</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Whittier’s</span> instinct drew him irresistibly to native -themes. He believed that the American poet -should write about America. ‘New England is full -of Romance,’ he had said in his sketch of Brainard. -‘The great forest which our fathers penetrated—the -red men—their struggle and their disappearance—the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">270</span> -Powwow and the War-dance—the -savage inroad and the English sally—the tale -of superstition, and the scenes of Witchcraft,—all -these are rich materials of poetry.’ And it -is safe to assume that Whittier never questioned -the wisdom of his own choice of subjects, though -he was often dissatisfied with the treatment.</p> - -<p>Much of Whittier’s early verse died a natural -death. More ought in his opinion to have done -so. He marvelled at the ‘feline tenacity of life’ -exhibited by certain poems and thought it flat contradiction -of the theory of the survival of the fittest. -He destroyed every copy of <i>Legends of New -England</i> that he could get his hands on. He -would have been glad to suppress <i>Mogg Megone</i>. -‘Is there no way to lay the ghosts of unlucky -rhymes?’ he asked, when the question was raised -of reprinting the story in the ‘blue and gold’ volumes -of 1857. It had appeared in the first collected -edition (1849), and again in 1870; but when -the definitive edition was published (1888), <i>Mogg -Megone</i> was consigned to ‘the limbo of an appendix,’ -and printed in type small enough to make -the reading a torture.</p> - -<p>The plot is imaginary, but the characters are for -the most part historical. The outlaw Bonython -sells his daughter to the Saco chief Hegone, or, as -he was commonly called, Mogg Megone. The -girl murders the savage as he lies drunk in her -father’s hut. For Mogg had boasted of killing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">271</span> -her seducer. She flies to the settlement of the -Norridgewock Indians to confess to the Jesuit -Sebastian Ralle, and is repulsed by the angry -priest, whose plans are thwarted by Megone’s untimely -death. Wandering about in agony, she sees -the attack by the English on Norridgewock, when -Ralle was shot at the foot of the cross, and later -is found by Castine and his men, dead in the -forest. The poem is spirited and abounds in incident, -but it is melodramatic. It lacks the magic -of Whittier’s art. Nevertheless he unjustly depreciated -it.</p> - -<p>A better performance is ‘The Bridal of Pennacook,’ -with its strongly marked characters of -Passaconaway, Weetamoo, and Winnepurkit, its -contrasting pictures of the rich Merrimac valley -and the wild Saugus marshes. Along with this -story of Indian life may be read ‘The Fountain’ -and the musical stanzas of the ‘Funeral Tree of -the Sokokis.’ ‘The Truce of Piscataqua’ and -‘Nauhaught, the Deacon’ are later poems illustrating -Indian character.</p> - -<p>Living in what had been for many years one -of the border towns of Massachusetts, Whittier -was naturally drawn to themes, partly historic, -partly legendary, touching the struggles between -French, English, and Indians. ‘Pentucket’ commemorates -Hertel de Rouville’s night attack on -Haverhill. ‘St. John,’ a ballad of Acadia, describes -the sack of La Tour’s fortress by his rival,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">272</span> -D’Aulnay. ‘Mary Garvin’ and ‘The Ranger’ -are ‘border’ ballads.</p> - -<p>Now and then he rhymes ‘a wild and wondrous -story,’ such as ‘The Garrison of Cape Ann,’ -which he found in the <span class="locked"><i>Magnalia Christi</i>:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Dear to me these far, faint glimpses of the dual life of old,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Inward, grand with awe and reverence; outward, mean and coarse and cold;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Gleams of mystic beauty playing over dull and vulgar clay,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Golden-threaded fancies weaving in a web of hodden gray.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>A number of the poems turn on the witchcraft -persecutions: ‘Mabel Martin,’ ‘The Witch of -Wenham,’ and the fine ‘Prophecy of Samuel -Sewall.’ In <i>The Tent on the Beach</i> are two more: -‘The Wreck of the Rivermouth’ and ‘The -Changeling.’</p> - -<p>Whittier was always ready to speak on the injustice -of injustice. His Quaker ancestors used to -receive gifts of forty stripes save one. They were -martyrs for the cause of religious liberty. And the -sufferings of the New England Quakers was a subject -always to the poet’s hand. He contemplated -the wrongs that had been righted and was grateful -therefor; but it was a part of his mission to -teach his readers what progress had been made -since the days in which state and church united -to persecute a harmless if sometimes extravagant -people. The lesson may be found in such poems -as ‘How the Women went from Dover’ and ‘The -King’s Missive.’ Whittier knew that injustice is -always ridiculous, and a grim humor plays at times<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">273</span> -about his treatment of events in that dreadful day, -as in the story of Thomas Macy. The most characteristic -setting of his general theme is to be found -in the spirited ballad of ‘Cassandra Southwick.’ -The incident is told dramatically by the heroine herself, -but the passion which glows through the verse -is true Whittier.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_54">V<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>VOICES OF FREEDOM</i>, <i>SONGS OF LABOR</i>, -<i>IN WAR TIME</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> militant note in Whittier’s verse was sounded -early. In 1832, when he was twenty-five years -old, he wrote the stanzas ‘To William Lloyd -Garrison.’ They were followed by ‘Toussaint -L’Ouverture’ (1833), ‘The Slave-Ships’ (1834), -‘The Hunters of Men’ and ‘Stanzas for the -Times’ (1835), ‘Clerical Oppressors’ (1836), -and the stinging ‘Pastoral Letter’ (1837). He -was now fairly embarked on his mission.</p> - -<p>The brunt of his attack fell on supine Northern -politicians, clerical apologists, and anxious -business men who feared agitation might injure -their Southern trade. Nothing was more abhorrent -to Whittier than traffic in human flesh. He -marvelled that it was not abhorrent to every one, -and strove with all his power to make it so. -America, in his belief, was a by-word among the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">274</span> -nations, forever prating of ‘liberty’ while she -bought and sold slaves.</p> - -<p>As he was the assailant of timid vote-seekers, -money-getters, and ministers who defended slavery -‘on scriptural grounds,’ so was Whittier the eulogist -of all who made sacrifices for the cause, or -who, like ‘Randolph of Roanoke,’ a man with -every traditional motive to cling to the peculiar -institution, testified against it. <i>Voices of Freedom</i> -is a record of the guerilla warfare which Whittier -waged during forty years against slavery. With -the additions he made to it in the progress of the -struggle, it became not only the largest division of -his work but one of the most notable. The history -of Abolitionism is written here. ‘The Pastoral -Letter’ was Whittier’s response to the body -of Congregational ministers who deprecated the -discussion of slavery as tending to make trouble -in the churches. ‘Massachusetts to Virginia’ was -called out by Latimer’s case. ‘Texas,’ ‘Faneuil -Hall,’ and the lines ‘To a Southern Statesman’ -are a protest against the annexation of territory -‘sufficient for six new slave states.’ ‘For Righteousness’ -Sake’ was inscribed to friends ‘under -arrest for treason against the slave power.’ The -fine closing stanza deserves to be better <span class="locked">known:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">God’s ways seem dark, but, soon or late,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">They touch the shining hills of day;</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The evil cannot brook delay,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The good can well afford to wait.</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Give ermined knaves their hour of crime;</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">275</span> - <div class="verse indent0">Ye have the future grand and great,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The safe appeal of Truth to Time!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>‘The Kansas Emigrants’ celebrates the Western -advance, the coming of the new Pilgrims, -armed with the Bible and free schools. ‘Le Marais -du Cygne’ was written on hearing of the -Kansas massacre in May, 1858. ‘The Quakers -are Out,’ a campaign song (not included in the -collected writings), celebrates the Republican victory -in Pennsylvania on the eve of the National -<span class="locked">election:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Away with misgiving—away with all doubt,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For Lincoln goes in, when the Quakers are out!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Not the least notable among these poems is -‘The Summons,’ in which the poet contrasts the -quiet of summer with the distant tumult of approaching -war, and his knowledge of his place in -the approaching struggle with consciousness of -his inability to act.</p> - -<p>The Voices of Freedom are often harsh and -discordant. Lines were written in hot haste -and sent to press before the ink had time to dry. -The needs of the moment were imperative. -There was little time to correct and no time to -polish. Had Whittier possessed a lyric gift approximating -that of Hugo or Swinburne, how -wonderful must have been his contribution to our -literature. For the cause was great and his devotion -single. Much of the verse, however, is journalism.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">276</span></p> - -<p>He rises easily to poetic heights. ‘Massachusetts -to Virginia’ has a magnificent swing and -pulsates with passion. When Webster’s defection -spread anger, consternation, and grief through the -ranks of the party of Freedom, Whittier penned -the burning stanzas to which he gave the title -‘Ichabod.’ This anti-slavery poem was published -in <i>Songs of Labor</i>, and is justly accounted one of -the loftiest expressions of Whittier’s genius.</p> - -<p><i>In War Time and Other Poems</i> records the anxieties, -fears, hopes, and exultations incident to the -great conflict between North and South. Says the -<span class="locked">poet:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">‘... our voices take</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A sober tone; our very household songs</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Are heavy with a nation’s griefs and wrongs;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And innocent mirth is chastened for the sake</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of the brave hearts that nevermore shall beat,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The eyes that smile no more, the unreturning feet!’</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The volume contains ‘Barbara Frietchie,’ perhaps -the most popular ballad of the war, based on -an incident told to Whittier by Mrs. Southworth, -the novelist. One must reconstruct the times to -comprehend the extraordinary effect produced by -this dramatic little incident. Iconoclasts have made -havoc with the story. If their points are well taken, -we have one proof more of the superiority of legend -over history for poetic purposes. Other noteworthy -poems in this volume are ‘Thy Will be -Done’ and the magnificent hymn ‘Ein Feste Burg -ist Unser Gott.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">277</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">We wait beneath the furnace blast</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The pangs of transformation;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Not painlessly doth God recast</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And mould anew the nation.</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Hot burns the fire</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Where wrongs expire;</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Nor spares the hand</div> - <div class="verse indent4">That from the land</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Uproots the ancient evil.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_55">VI<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>SNOW-BOUND</i>, <i>TENT ON THE BEACH</i>, -<i>PENNSYLVANIA PILGRIM</i>, <i>VISION OF -ECHARD</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> volume of 1860, <i>Home Ballads and Poems</i>, -contained two perfect examples of Whittier’s art, -namely, ‘My Playmate’ and ‘Telling the Bees.’ -To inquire what far-off experiences in the poet’s life -prompted the making of these exquisite ‘ballads,’ -as Whittier called them, were idle, poets being -proverbially given to the use of the imagination. -The music of the dark pines on Ramoth Hill -could be no sweeter than it is. The theme of either -poem is common enough among bards, and perennially -attractive. ‘My Playmate’ and ‘Telling -the Bees,’ together with ‘Amy Wentworth’ and -‘The Countess,’ all show, though in varying degrees, -how pregnant with poetic suggestion were -the scenes amid which Whittier passed his life. -Even that urban and aristocratic little poem -‘Amy Wentworth’ derives half its charm from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">278</span> -the world of associations called up by the fog -wreaths, the pebbled beach, and the sweet brier -blooming on Kittery-side.</p> - -<p>The above-named poems, together with ‘The -Barefoot Boy’ and ‘In School-Days,’ suggest -a phase of Whittier’s genius which found complete -expression in the ‘winter idyl,’ a picture of life in -the old East Haverhill homestead.</p> - -<p><i>Snow-Bound</i> was published in 1866. What the -author thought of it we now know: ‘If it were not -mine I should call it pretty good.’ The public -decided for itself and bought copies enough to -fatten Whittier’s lean purse with ten thousand -dollars. The enviously-inclined should remember -that the poet was nearly sixty when this happened -to him. A twelvemonth later <i>The Tent on the Beach</i> -was published and began selling at the rate of a -thousand copies a day. Whittier wrote to Fields: -‘This will never do; the swindle is awful; Barnum -is a saint to us.’</p> - -<p>Readers who find difficulty in comprehending -the enthusiasm that <i>Snow-Bound</i> evoked must reflect -that there are strange creatures in the world -who actually like winter. For them Whittier had -a particular message. He has reproduced the atmosphere -of the New England landscape under -storm-cloud and falling snow with utmost precision. -No important detail is wanting, and no -detail is emphasized to the injury of the general -effect. The exactness and simplicity of the touch<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">279</span> -are wholly admirable. The result is as exquisite -as the means to it are unostentatious.</p> - -<p><i>Snow-Bound</i> is a favorite because of its homely, -sweet realism, because of the poetic glow thrown -on old-fashioned scenes, because of the variety of -moods (which, lying between the extremes of playfulness -and deepest feeling, shade naturally from -one to the next); and because of the reverential -spirit, the high confidence and trust. The poem -is autobiographical, but it needs no ‘key’ to give -it interest. The characters are types.</p> - -<p>In <i>The Tent on the Beach</i> it is related how a -poet,<a id="FNanchor_37" href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">37</a> a publisher (who in this instance, contrary -to the traditions of his race, is a friend of the poet), -and a traveller beguile an evening at the seaside -with the reading of manuscript verses from the -publisher’s portfolio. The tales, eleven in number, -with a closing lyric on ‘The Worship of Nature,’ -are too uniformly sombre. The one called ‘The -Maids of Attitash’ is blithe enough, but the gray -tints need even more relief.</p> - -<p>Whittier’s power in descriptions of sea and sky -is displayed at its best in this volume. One does -not soon forget this stanza from the <span class="locked">prelude:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Sometimes a cloud, with thunder black,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Stooped low upon the darkening main,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Piercing the waves along its track</div> - <div class="verse indent2">With the slant javelins of rain.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And when west-wind and sunshine warm</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Chased out to sea its wrecks of storm,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">They saw the prismy hues in thin spray showers</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">280</span></p> - <div class="verse indent0">Where the green buds of waves burst into white froth-flowers!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Even better is the description of the breakers -seen by <span class="locked">twilight:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">... trampling up the sloping sand,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In lines outreaching far and wide,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The white-maned billows swept to land,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Dim seen across the gathering shade,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">A vast and ghostly cavalcade.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="in0">The change from the mist and confusion of the -brief tempest to the clear after effect was never -better <span class="locked">rendered:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Suddenly seaward swept the squall;</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The low sun smote through cloudy rack;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The Shoals stood clear in the light, and all</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The trend of the coast lay hard and black.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><i>Among the Hills</i>, <i>Miriam</i>, and <i>The Pennsylvania -Pilgrim</i> come next in order of publication. The -first is a romance of New England country life; -the second is ‘Oriental and purely fiction;’ the -third, partly historical and partly imaginative, is -an attempt to reconstruct life in Penn’s colony -towards the close of the Seventeenth Century. -Whittier said of <i>The Pennsylvania Pilgrim</i>: ‘It is -as long as <i>Snow-Bound</i>, and better, but nobody -will find it out.’ The poet felt that too little had -been said in praise of the humanizing influences -at work in the colonies by the Schuylkill and the -Delaware. The Pilgrim Father here celebrated is -Daniel Pastorius, who planted the settlement of -Germantown. He was the first American abolitionist.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">281</span> -The poem abounds in happy pictures of -scenery, and in tenderly humorous sketches of -the quaint characters who found peace, shelter, and, -above all, toleration, under the beneficent rule of -Pastorius.</p> - -<p><i>The Vision of Echard</i> will serve to introduce -Whittier’s distinctively religious poems. A characteristic -performance, it admirably illustrates his -manner, diction, cast of thought. First, the scenes -of great natural beauty, where historical memories -are overlaid and blended with ideas of ceremonial -pomp associated with formal religion; and then, -projected on this rich background, the dreamer -and his dream. The blended walls of sapphire -in Echard’s vision ‘blazed with the thought of -<span class="locked">God:’—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Ye bow to ghastly symbols,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">To cross and scourge and thorn;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ye seek his Syrian manger</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Who in the heart is born.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">O blind ones, outward groping,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The idle quest forego;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Who listens to His inward voice</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Alone of him shall know.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">A light, a guide, a warning,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">A presence ever near,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Through the deep silence of the flesh</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I reach the inward ear.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The stern behest of duty,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The doom-book open thrown,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The heaven ye seek, the hell ye fear,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Are with yourselves alone.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">282</span></p> -<p>Whittier did not include ‘The Preacher’ among -his religious poems. This fine picture of the ‘great -awakening’ might be so classified. Also ‘The -Chapel of the Hermits,’ ‘Tauler,’ and yet others. -In general the religious poems consist of meditations -on sacred characters and scenes, poetic settings -of Biblical narrative, and reflective poems in -which Whittier gives voice to phases of his spiritual -life, and above all to a faith so broad that the -distinctions of sect and creed are lost in its catholic -charity. ‘Questions of Life,’ ‘The Over-Heart,’ -‘Trinitas,’ ‘The Shadow and the Light,’ -and ‘The Eternal Goodness’ are the expressions -of this lofty and inspiring side of his poetic genius.</p> - -<p>Whittier’s singing voice lost none of its flexibility -but rather gained as time went on. ‘The -Henchman’ was a striking performance for a -man of seventy. ‘It is not exactly a Quakerly -piece, nor is it didactic, and it has no moral that -I know of,’ observed Whittier. He must have -known that it had the moral of exquisite beauty. -Indeed he admitted that it was ‘not unpoetical.’</p> - -<p>His last utterance was a little group of poems, -<i>At Sundown</i>, having for the controlling thought -the close of life’s day. One of them, ‘Burning -Drift-Wood,’ was the poet’s farewell; and with -the quotation of four of its stanzas we may bring -to an end this brief survey of Whittier’s work.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">What matter that it is not May,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">That birds have flown, and trees are bare,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">283</span> - <div class="verse indent0">That darker grows the shortening day,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And colder blows the wintry air!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The wrecks of passion and desire,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The castles I no more rebuild,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">May fitly feed my drift-wood fire,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And warm the hands that age has chilled.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I know the solemn monotone</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Of waters calling unto me;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I know from whence the airs have blown</div> - <div class="verse indent2">That whisper of the Eternal Sea.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">As low my fires of drift-wood burn,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I hear that sea’s deep sound increase.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And, fair in sunset light, discern</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Its mirage-lifted Isles of Peace.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35" class="fnanchor">35</a> Whittier’s Autobiographical Letter, in Carpenter’s <i>Whittier</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36" class="fnanchor">36</a> The first collected edition made with Whittier’s consent.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_37" href="#FNanchor_37" class="fnanchor">37</a> Whittier, J. T. Fields, and Bayard Taylor.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">287</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_10" class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="X">X<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>Nathaniel Hawthorne</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>Julian Hawthorne</b>: <i>Nathaniel Hawthorne and his Wife</i>, -second edition, 1885.</p> - -<p><b>Horatio Bridge</b>: <i>Personal Recollections of Nathaniel Hawthorne</i>, -1893.</p> - -<p><b>G. E. Woodberry</b>: <i>Nathaniel Hawthorne</i>, ‘American Men -of Letters,’ 1902.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_56">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap al"><span class="smcap1">Among</span> the passengers in the ship which -brought Winthrop and Dudley to the New -World was William Hathorne, the ancestor of the -novelist. A man of character, versatile, naturally -eloquent, and a born leader, he rose to a position -of influence in the colony. One of his sons, John -Hathorne, was destined to sinister renown as a -judge at the trials for witchcraft held at Salem in -1691.</p> - -<p>Daniel Hathorne, a grandson of the old witch -judge, took to the sea, and during the Revolutionary -War served as a privateersman. He had -seven children. Nathaniel, his third son, also a -sea-captain, married Elizabeth Clarke Manning, -and became the father of Nathaniel Hawthorne,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">288</span> -the novelist, who was born at Salem, Massachusetts, -on July 4, 1804.</p> - -<p>Captain Hawthorne died at Surinam in 1808. -The rigid seclusion in which his widow lived after -her husband’s death had a marked effect on her -son, quickening his sensibilities and at the same -time clouding his lively nature with a shadow of -premature gravity.</p> - -<p>Hawthorne’s boyhood was passed partly at -Salem, partly on the shores of Sebago Lake, in -Maine, where his grandfather Manning owned -large tracts of land. His reading for pleasure included -Clarendon and Froissart, to say nothing of -that old-time boys’ delight, the Newgate Calendar. -The first book that he bought with his own money -was Spenser’s <i>Faery Queen</i>. At sixteen he had -read <i>Caleb Williams</i>, <i>St. Leon</i>, and <i>Mandeville</i>. ‘I -admire Godwin’s novels and intend to read all of -them.’</p> - -<p>He entered Bowdoin College in the same class -with Longfellow and Franklin Pierce, and was -graduated in 1825. For the next twelve years he -lived the life of a recluse in his own home at Salem, -indulging his passion for writing and for taking -twilight walks. It was the period of his literary -apprenticeship. Later he was, as he says, ‘drawn -somewhat into the world and became pretty much -like other people.’ In 1828 he published, anonymously -and at his own expense, a novel, <i>Fanshawe</i>. -He made some mystery about it, binding by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">289</span> -solemn promises the few who were in the secret -of the authorship, not to betray it. The public was -indifferent to the book, and Hawthorne afterwards -destroyed the copies he could find. His early -sketches and stories were published in annuals -such as ‘The Token,’ and in periodicals such as -‘The New England Magazine,’ ‘Knickerbocker,’ -and ‘The Democratic Review.’ For the most -part they ‘passed without notice.’</p> - -<p>In 1837 appeared a volume of eighteen of these -sketches and stories, to which Hawthorne gave -the title of <i>Twice-Told Tales</i>. An enlarged edition, -containing twenty-one additional stories, appeared -in 1842. Between the two, Hawthorne brought -out a group of children’s stories, <i>Grandfather’s -Chair</i>, <i>Famous Old People</i>, and the <i>Liberty Tree</i>, -all in 1841, and <i>Biographical Stories for Children</i>, -1842.</p> - -<p>When Bancroft became Collector of the Port of -Boston, he appointed Hawthorne as weigher and -gauger (1839). Thrown out by the change of administration -(1841), Hawthorne invested his savings -in the Brook Farm enterprise. This move -(described by his latest biographer as ‘the only -apparently freakish action of his life’) was made -in the hope of providing a home for his betrothed, -Sophia Peabody. He threw himself with good -humor into the life of the community, planted -potatoes, cut straw, milked three cows night and -morning, and signed his letters to his sister ‘Nath.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">290</span> -Hawthorne, Ploughman.’ Reports circulated that -the author of the <i>Twice-Told Tales</i> might be seen -dressed in a farmer’s frock, carrying milk to Boston -every morning; also that he was ‘to do the travelling -in Europe <i>for the Community</i>.’</p> - -<p>Brook Farm proved ‘thralldom and weariness,’ -and Hawthorne abandoned it, losing, as he later -discovered, the one thousand dollars he had invested. -In July, 1842, he married and settled in -the ‘Old Manse’ at Concord.</p> - -<p>He had now enough and to spare of the leisure -which a deliberate writer finds indispensable. In -a room overlooking the battlefield (the room in -which Emerson had written <i>Nature</i>) Hawthorne -penned many of the tales afterwards incorporated -in <i>Mosses from an Old Manse</i>. The period of his -residence at Concord will always seem to those -who have studied its many charming records not -undeserving the characterization of idyllic. It was -brought to a close in 1845, when there seemed a -likelihood (made a certainty the following year) of -his becoming Surveyor of Customs for the Port -of Salem. Hawthorne held this post until June, -1849. His removal gave him time for the working -out of an idea that had possessed him for many -months, and which took shape in the form of his -great romance, <i>The Scarlet Letter</i>.</p> - -<p>From the spring of 1850 to the autumn of -1851 Hawthorne lived at Lenox in the Berkshire -Hills, and there wrote <i>The House of the Seven<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">291</span> -Gables</i>. He then removed to West Newton, where, -during the winter of 1851–52, he wrote <i>The Blithedale -Romance</i>. In June, 1852, he took possession -of a house in Concord, which he had bought of -Alcott. He had but fairly settled himself in his -new home (‘The Wayside’ he called it) when his -friend Franklin Pierce, now President of the United -States, made him consul at Liverpool.</p> - -<p>Hawthorne assumed his charge in July, 1853, -and conducted its affairs with energy and skill until -September, 1857. The period of his English -residence was rich in experiences, of which social -honors formed the least part. The quiet, brooding -observer had no wish to be lionized and apparently -discouraged the few well-meant advances -that were made. He once saw Tennyson at the -Arts’ Exhibition at Manchester, and rejoiced in -him more than in all the other wonders of the -place; but it was like Hawthorne to have been -content merely to gaze at the laureate without presuming -on his own achievements as ground for -claiming acquaintance.</p> - -<p>After leaving Liverpool, Hawthorne spent two -winters in Italy, where <i>The Marble Faun</i> was conceived. -The greater part of the actual writing was -done in England, at Redcar on the North Sea.</p> - -<p>At this point it will be well to take note of -Hawthorne’s principal writings subsequent to the -publication of the second edition of the <i>Twice-Told -Tales</i>. They are: <i>The Celestial Railroad</i>, 1843;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">292</span> -<i>Mosses from an Old Manse</i>, 1846;<a id="FNanchor_38" href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">38</a> <i>The Scarlet -Letter</i>, 1850; <i>The House of the Seven Gables</i>, 1851; -<i>A Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys</i>, 1852; <i>The -Snow-Image, and Other Twice-Told Tales</i>, 1852; -<i>The Blithedale Romance</i>, 1852; <i>Life of Franklin -Pierce</i>, 1852; <i>Tanglewood Tales</i>, 1853; <i>The Marble -Faun, or the Romance of Monte Beni</i>, 1860;<a id="FNanchor_39" href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">39</a> -<i>Our Old Home</i>, 1863.</p> - -<p>The posthumous publications are: <i>Passages -from the American Note-Books of Nathaniel Hawthorne</i>, -1868; <i>Passages from the English Note-Books</i> -..., 1870; <i>Passages from the French and -Italian Note-Books</i> ..., 1872; <i>Septimius Felton</i>, -1872; <i>The Dolliver Romance</i>, 1876; <i>Doctor Grimshawe’s -Secret</i>, 1883.</p> - -<p>In June, 1860, after an absence of seven years, -Hawthorne returned to ‘The Wayside.’ He felt -the burden of the political situation now culminating -in civil war. With little sympathy for the -cause of Abolition, Hawthorne, when the conflict -had actually begun, found it ‘delightful to share -in the heroic sentiment of the time’ and to feel -that he had a country.<a id="FNanchor_40" href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">40</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">293</span></p> - -<p>His health began to decline and he was spiritless -and depressed. In March, 1864, accompanied -by his friend W. D. Ticknor, he started southward, -hoping for benefit from the change. Ticknor, -who was seemingly in perfect health, died -suddenly in Philadelphia. Hawthorne was unnerved -by the shock. In May he undertook a -carriage journey among the New Hampshire hills -with Pierce. The friends proceeded by easy stages, -reaching Plymouth in the evening of May 18. -Hawthorne was growing visibly weaker and Pierce -had already determined that he would send for -Mrs. Hawthorne. Shortly after midnight he went -into his friend’s room. Hawthorne was apparently -sleeping. He went again between three and four -in the morning. Hawthorne was dead.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_57">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HAWTHORNE’s CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">‘I am</span> a man, and between man and man there -is always an insuperable gulf,’ said Kenyon in -<i>The Marble Faun</i>.</p> - -<p>Hawthorne might have been speaking through -Kenyon’s lips, so accurately does the saying voice -his private thought. He lived in a world apart. -No experience of custom-house, consulate, or farm -could bring him quite out of his world into the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">294</span> -common world of men. Hawthorne had more -reason than Emerson to complain of the wall between -him and his fellow-mortals. When glib -talkers were displaying no end of conversational -change, Hawthorne kept his hands in his pockets. -He had no mind to indulge in that form of matching -pennies known as small talk.</p> - -<p>Observers have voiced their impressions of him -in different ways; their testimony is not discordant. -The romantically inclined described Hawthorne -as mysterious. Plain people thought him queer. -Even his brother authors found him odd. Longfellow -described Hawthorne as ‘a strange owl, a -very peculiar individual, with a dash of originality -about him very pleasant to behold.’ Yet Hawthorne -was without a grain of affectation, and took -keen interest in the homely facts of life. His -books everywhere betray this interest. He who -wrote that description of his kitchen garden in -<i>The Old Manse</i> would seem to be just the man to -lean over the fence and talk cabbages and squashes -with some neighborhood farmer. And perhaps he -did.</p> - -<p>He was not fond of men of letters as a class—which -is not surprising. The friends who stood -close to him were not literary. Bridge was a naval -officer. Pierce was a politician, representative of -a type for which Hawthorne had contempt. Hillard -was a lawyer, a man of the world.</p> - -<p>Hawthorne was not without his share of ‘human<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">295</span> -nature,’ as we say. He had his prejudices, and -they were sometimes deeply rooted. When smarting -under a sense of injustice he could wield a -caustic pen. He was a good hater, but not narrow-minded. -He hated spirit-rapping, table-tipping, -and all the vulgar machinery and manifestations -of a vulgar delusion. He hated noise, brawling, -and dissension. He loved his home. His -letters to his wife reveal a nature of exquisite -delicacy. He loved children, Nature, and he was -chivalrous in his attitude towards the animal -creation.</p> - -<p>A trait of Hawthorne’s character comes out -in the following incident. He proposed to dedicate -<i>Our Old Home</i> to Franklin Pierce. This was -in 1863. The publishers, it is said, were filled with -‘consternation and distress.’ The ex-president’s -name was not one to conjure with. Hawthorne -explained his position: ‘I find that it would be a -piece of poltroonery in me to withdraw either the -dedication or the dedicatory letter.... If Pierce -is so exceedingly unpopular that his name is -enough to sink the volume, there is so much the -more need that an old friend should stand by -him. I cannot, merely on account of pecuniary -profit or literary reputation, go back from what -I have deliberately felt and thought it right to -do.... As for the literary public, it must accept -my book precisely as I see fit to give it, or -let it alone.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">296</span></p> - -<p>Friendship sometimes has in it an element of -perversity, and has been known to delight in petty -martyrdom. There was nothing of this in Hawthorne. -All he notes is that friendship is not a -commodity.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_58">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE WRITER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Hawthorne</span> knew the secret of producing magical -effects by quiet means. He had perfect command -of the materials by which are rendered the -half tones, the delicate shadings, the mysterious -opalescent hues of beautiful prose. Yet his manner -is unostentatious and his vocabulary simple. -There are writers in whose work the feeling excited -of pleasurable surprise can be traced to a -particular word glittering like a diamond or a sapphire. -With Hawthorne the effects are elusive, -not always to be apprehended at the moment.</p> - -<p>The beauty of his prose is best explained by the -beauty of the ideas; the natural phrasing serves -but to define it, as physical loveliness may be accentuated -by simplicity of dress. Hawthorne’s -thoughts, being exquisite in themselves, make -ornament superfluous.</p> - -<p>There is no trace of effort in his writing. <i>The -Scarlet Letter</i>, for example, reads as if it had come -‘like a breath of inspiration.’ Such directness and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">297</span> -precision of touch must always be a source of wonder -and delight, not alone to writers who fumble -their sentences but to skilled literary craftsmen as -well. In Henry James’s admirable story ‘The -Death of the Lion’<a id="FNanchor_41" href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">41</a> is a paragraph which suggests -Hawthorne’s manner. The regal way in which -the famous novelist, Neil Paraday, adds perfect -sentence to perfect sentence is altogether like -Hawthorne.</p> - -<p>Economy of phrase is one of his virtues. In -Hawthorne there are no wasted or superfluous -sentences, not even a word in excess. Something -inexorably logical enters into his work, as in the -poetic art. This economy extends to his books -as a whole. For stories so rich in ideas, so heavy -with suggestion, they are short rather than long. -Yet the movement is always leisurely. There is -no haste or eagerness. A few strokes of the pen, -made with restful deliberation, serve to carry the -reader into the very heart of a tragedy. He cannot -but admire the superb strength which with so -little visible effort could bring him so far.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">298</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_59">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE SHORT STORIES</span> - -<span class="subhead"><i>TWICE-TOLD TALES</i>, <i>MOSSES FROM AN OLD -MANSE</i>, <i>THE SNOW-IMAGE</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Hawthorne’s</span> real entrance into literature dates -from the publication of the <i>Twice-Told Tales</i>, a -series of harmoniously framed narratives which -have maintained their rank unmoved by the capriciousness -of popular taste.</p> - -<p>The sources are in part colonial history or historical -legend and tradition. ‘The Gray Champion’ -is an incident of the tyranny of Andros. -‘The Maypole of Merry Mount’ celebrates the -madcap revelries of the first settlers at Wollaston. -In ‘Endicott and the Red Cross’ Hawthorne -records a dramatic incident in the history of his -native town, and introduces, by the way, a motive -that later was to develop into his masterpiece.</p> - -<p>The ‘Legends of the Province House’ (‘Howe’s -Masquerade,’ ‘Edward Randolph’s Portrait,’ -‘Lady Eleanore’s Mantle,’ and ‘Old Esther Dudley’) -have their warp of historical truth, but the -imaginative element is dominant. ‘The Gentle -Boy’ is Hawthorne’s sympathetic tribute to the -persecuted sect of the Quakers. ‘Sunday at Home,’ -‘Snow-Flakes,’ ‘Sights from a Steeple,’ ‘Footprints<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">299</span> -on the Seashore,’ represent a type of literature -which former generations enjoyed, and -which modern magazine editors would decline -with energy and quite perfunctory thanks.</p> - -<p>There are stories of horror and psychological -mystery. The author of ‘Markheim’ might have -chosen a theme like that treated in ‘Wakefield,’ -or in ‘The Prophetic Pictures.’ His handling -would have been different. We do not gladly -suffer an obvious moral in these days. No one -would now dare to put ‘A Parable’ for the explanatory -title of his narrative, as Hawthorne has -done in ‘The Minister’s Black Veil,’ or advise the -reader that the experiences of David Swan (if experiences -those can be called where a man sleeps -and things <i>do not</i> happen to him) argue ‘a superintending -Providence.’</p> - -<p>In <i>Mosses from an Old Manse</i> Hawthorne’s -gain in power is marked. He still ‘moralizes’ -his legends; but the force of the conception and -the richness of the imagery drive the philosophy -into the background. The grim and uncanny -humor of which Hawthorne had a masterful command -is displayed to the full in this book. No -better illustration can be cited than the scene -where the old witch Mother Rigby exhorts the -scarecrow, she had so cunningly fashioned, to be a -man. It is a grotesque, a gruesome, and a mirth-provoking -scene.</p> - -<p>Hawthorne had brooded long over the superstitious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">300</span> -past with which his own history was so -singularly linked. Among the fruit of these meditations -was the story of ‘Young Goodman Brown.’ -Like the minister in the fearful narrative of ‘Thrawn -Janet,’ Goodman Brown had been in the presence -of the powers of evil; but unlike the minister, he -no longer believed in virtue.</p> - -<p><i>Mosses from an Old Manse</i> also includes odd -conceits such as ‘The Celestial Railroad,’ a new -enterprise built from the famous City of Destruction, -a ‘populous and flourishing town,’ to the -Celestial City. The dreamer in this modern Pilgrim’s -Progress takes the journey under the personal -conduct of Mr. Smooth-it-away and notes -with interest the improvements in methods of -transportation since Bunyan’s time. Less ingenious -but no less amusing are ‘The Hall of Fantasy,’ -‘The Procession of Life,’ and ‘The Intelligence -Office.’ Monsieur de l’Aubépine loved an allegorical -meaning.</p> - -<p>Between the <i>Twice-Told Tales</i> and the <i>Mosses</i> -Hawthorne published a group of children’s stories. -<i>Grandfather’s Chair</i> and the two succeeding volumes -consist of little narratives of colonial history, -in which our national exploits are celebrated -in the tone of confident Americanism so much -deplored by Professor Goldwin Smith. There -are ‘asides’ for grown people, as when Grandfather -tells the children that Harvard College was -founded to rear up pious and learned ministers,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">301</span> -and that old writers called it ‘a school of the -prophets.’</p> - -<p>‘Is the college a school of the prophets now?’ -asked Charley.</p> - -<p>‘You must ask some of the recent graduates,’ -answered Grandfather.</p> - -<p>The <i>Wonder-Book</i> and its sequel, the <i>Tanglewood -Tales</i>, contain new versions of old classical myths, -the Gorgon’s Head, the Minotaur, the Golden -Fleece, and nine more. Here the adult reader has -a chance to feel the magic of Hawthorne’s art in -a form where it seems most tangible but is no less -elusive. He will be astonished at the air of reality -given these old legends.</p> - -<p>The perfect example of his work in this genre -(the child’s story) is the initial fantasy of <i>The -Snow-Image, and Other Twice-Told Tales</i>. Such -complete interweaving of the imaginative and the -realistic is little short of marvellous. And yet -there are people who say that perfect art cannot -subsist in company with a moral. They may be -commended to the account of the common-sensible -man who in the goodness of his heart brought -the odd, glittering, little snow-fairy into the house -and put her down in front of the hot stove.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">302</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_60">V<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE GREAT ROMANCES</span> - -<span class="subhead"><i>SCARLET LETTER</i>, <i>HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES</i>, -<i>BLITHEDALE ROMANCE</i>, <i>MARBLE FAUN</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">In</span> addition to being an engrossing narrative and -in every way a supreme illustration of Hawthorne’s -art, <i>The Scarlet Letter</i> is a study in will power. -Of the four human lives involved in this tragedy, -that of Hester Prynne is the most absorbing, as -her character is the loftiest. Carried to the place -of shame, her dark Oriental beauty irradiates all -about her, and she bears herself like a queen. -Her punishment is her own, she will ask none -to share it. Her sacrifice has been infinite, but -it asks nothing in return. She bears with regal -patience slight and insult, and that worst punishment -of all, the wondering terror of little children, -who flee her approach as of an evil thing.</p> - -<p>Hawthorne has brought out with infinite skill -the dreariness of the years following the public -disgrace when Hester has no longer the help of a -rebellious pride such as carried her almost exultantly -through the first crises of the dungeon and -the pillory. With a refinement of art the author -adds one last bitter drop to Hester Prynne’s cup -of bitterness in the wasting away of her superb<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">303</span> -beauty. But as the lines of her face hardened and -the natural and external graces disappeared, the -great soul waxed greater, more capable of love and -pity and tenderness. She became a ministering -angel whose coming was looked for as if she had -indeed been sent from Heaven.</p> - -<p>It was a singular fancy of Hawthorne’s to give -Hester a child like Pearl, precocious, fitful, enigmatic, -a will-o’-the-wisp, more akin to the ‘good -people’ of legendary lore than to the offspring -of human men and women. This too was a part -of Hester’s discipline, that this <i>un</i>-human, elf-like -creature should have sprung from her, with a power -transcending that of other children to mix pain -with pleasure in a mother’s life.</p> - -<p>Looking at Roger Chillingworth as he appears -in his ordinary life, one sees only the wise, benevolent -physician, infinitely solicitous for the welfare -of his young friend Arthur Dimmesdale. Surprise -him when the mask of deep-thoughted benevolence -is for the moment laid aside and it is the -face of a demon that one beholds.</p> - -<p>Without a grain of pity for his victim he probes -the minister’s soul. Morbidly eager, he welcomes -every sign that makes for his theory of a hidden, -a mental rather than a physical sickness. He -gloats with malignant joy over the discovery that -this spiritually minded youth has inherited a strong -animal nature. Here is a deep and resistless undercurrent -of passion which has led to certain results.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">304</span> -An unflinching and cruel analysis will make clear -what those results have been. Suspicion becomes -certainty, but proof is still wanting.</p> - -<p>For terrible suggestiveness there are but few -scenes in American fiction comparable with that -where Chillingworth bends over the sleeping minister -in his study and puts aside the garment that -always closely covered his breast. The poor victim -shuddered and slightly stirred. ‘After a brief -pause, the physician turned away. But with what -a wild look of wonder, joy, and horror! With -what a ghastly rapture, as it were, too mighty to -be expressed only by the eye and features, and -therefore bursting through the whole ugliness of -his figure, and making itself even riotously manifest -by the extravagant gestures with which he -threw up his arms towards the ceiling, and stamped -his foot upon the floor! Thus Satan might have -comported himself when a precious human soul -is lost to heaven and won into his kingdom. But -what distinguished the physician’s ecstasy from -Satan’s was the trait of wonder in it!’</p> - -<p>Dimmesdale is the deeply pathetic figure in this -tragedy of souls. Seven years of hypocrisy might -well bring the unhappy man to the pitiable condition -in which he is found when the lines of interest -in the story draw to a focus. Day by day, -month by month, his was a life of lies. No course -of action seemed open to the wretched minister -which did not involve piling higher the mountain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">305</span> -of falsehood. To lie and to scourge himself for -lying—this was his whole existence. We praise -Hester Prynne’s courage. Not less extraordinary -was Dimmesdale’s wonderful display of will power. -A weaker man would have confessed at once, or -fled, or committed suicide. The minister may not -be accused of stubbornly holding to his course -from fear. He feared but one thing: the shock -to the great cause for which he stood, the shame -that the revelation of his guilt would bring upon -the church, the loss of his power to do good, the -spectacle, for the eyes of mocking unbelievers, of -the ‘full-fraught man and best indued’ proved the -guiltiest. This were indeed ‘another fall of man.’</p> - -<p>Incomparable as <i>The Scarlet Letter</i> undoubtedly -is, there are admirers of Hawthorne’s genius who -have pronounced <i>The House of the Seven Gables</i> the -better story of the two. The judgment may be -erroneous, it is at least not eccentric.</p> - -<p>In handling the genealogical details of the -first chapter, Hawthorne showed a deft touch. -The descendants of the proud old Colonel -Pyncheon are as clearly defined as if the name and -station of each had been enumerated. With no -less ease does one follow the fortunes of the -humble house of Matthew Maule. This progenitor -of an obscure race had been executed for witchcraft. -All of his descendants bore the stamp of -this event. They were ‘marked out from other -men.’ In spite of an exterior of good fellowship,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">306</span> -there was a circle about the Maules, and no man -had ever stepped foot inside of it. Unfortunate -in its early history, this family was never other -than unfortunate. It had an inheritance of sombre -recollections, which it brooded upon, though unresentfully.</p> - -<p>Its life was linked with that of the proud house -whose visible mansion was founded on property -wrested from the old martyr to superstition. For -Colonel Pyncheon had shown acrimonious zeal in -the witchcraft persecutions, and unbecoming speed -in seizing on the wizard’s little plot of ground with -its spring of soft and pleasant water. Inseparable as -substance and shadow, wherever there was a Pyncheon -there was also a Maule. An endless chain -of dark events depended from that crime of witchcraft -days. On the scaffold the condemned wizard -prophesied concerning his accuser: ‘God will give -him blood to drink.’ Men shook their heads -when Colonel Pyncheon built the House of the -Seven Gables, on the site of Matthew Maule’s -hut. They had not long to wait for the fulfilment -of the prophecy. The spring became bitter, and -on the day when the stately dwelling was first -opened to guests Colonel Pyncheon was found -dead in his study, with blood-bedabbled ruff and -beard. Against this tragedy of old colonial days -as a background Hawthorne projects the later story -of <i>The House of the Seven Gables</i>.</p> - -<p>In its simplest aspect the narrative concerns the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">307</span> -persecution of an unfortunate and weak representative -of the Pyncheon family by a powerful and -unscrupulous representative. At intervals through -the centuries the spirit of the great Puritan ancestor -made its appearance in the flesh, as if the -Colonel ‘had been gifted with a sort of intermittent -immortality.’ Judge Jaffrey Pyncheon stands -as a modern reincarnation of the old persecutor -of witches. Clifford, his cousin, is a victim of the -law at one of those moments when the law seems -to operate almost automatically. Suspected of -murder, he might have been cleared had Jaffrey -but told what he knew, the real manner of their -uncle’s death. This were to disclose certain of his -own moral delinquencies, and Jaffrey keeps silent. -And thus it happens that, both being in their -young manhood, the one is incarcerated and the -other enters on a path leading to influence, wealth, -and good repute.</p> - -<p>To the ‘somber dignity of an inherited curse’ -the Pyncheons added yet another dignity in the -form of a shadowy claim to an almost princely -tract of land in the North. The connecting link, -some parchment signed with Indian hieroglyphics, -had been lost when the Colonel died; but the -poorest of his race felt an accession of pride as he -contemplated that possible inheritance. And the -richest of modern Pyncheons, the Judge, was not -proof against ambitious dreams excited by the same -thought.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">308</span></p> - -<p>Affecting to believe that Clifford knows where -the lost document is hidden, the Judge tries to -force himself on his victim, who, made almost an -imbecile by long imprisonment, is now, after his -release, harbored in the House of the Seven -Gables and cared for by his aged sister Hepzibah -and his fair young cousin Phœbe. And while the -Judge is waiting, watch in hand, for the terror-stricken -Clifford to come to him, Death comes instead. -Maule’s curse is fulfilled in yet another -generation. The suspicion that would have fallen -anew on Clifford is averted by Holgrave. But -Holgrave, as he chooses to call himself, is the last -living representative of the family of Maule the -wizard. And it was for one of the persecuted race -to save the unhappiest member of the family by -which his own had suffered. Holgrave marries -Phœbe Pyncheon and the blood of the two families -is united.</p> - -<p>Holgrave’s sole inheritance from his wizard ancestor, -as he laughingly explained, was a knowledge -of the hiding-place of the now worthless -Indian deed. For this secret a Pyncheon had bartered -his daughter’s life and happiness in former -years.</p> - -<p>The Judge Pyncheon of the story has been pronounced -‘somewhat of a stage villain, a puppet.’ -This may possibly be due less to Hawthorne’s -handling of the character than to the inherent -weakness of the hypocrite as presented in fiction<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">309</span> -or drama. The patrician old woman turned shop-keeper -is so perfect a study that praise of the delineation -is almost an impertinence. And there is -the great silent but living and breathing House -of the Seven Gables, in the creation of which Hawthorne -expended the wealth of his powers. It will -always be a question whether in the spiritual significance -he attaches to or draws from some physical -fact this great literary artist does not show his -highest power. And many a time one finishes the -reading of this particular book with the feeling -that the House of the Seven Gables is the real -protagonist of the drama.</p> - -<p>In respect that it is a beautiful example of Hawthorne’s -art <i>The Blithedale Romance</i> is deserving of -all the praise lavished upon it; in respect that it is -a picture of Brook Farm it is naught. The author -himself freely admitted that he chose the socialist -community merely as a theatre where the -creatures of his brain might ‘play their phantas-magorical -antics’ without their being exposed to -the rigid test of ‘too close a comparison with the -actual events of real lives.’</p> - -<p>The antics played are such as we witness daily -when human puppets are swayed by various passions -of love, jealousy, self-will, pride, humility, -the instinct for art, or the instinct for reform. -The bearded Hollingsworth, whose ‘dark shaggy -face looked really beautiful with its expression of -thoughtful benevolence,’ was, without being conscious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">310</span> -of it, a brutal egoist, capable of bending all -people and all things to the accomplishment of -his idea. He illustrates the weakness of strength, -as Priscilla, so frail, nervous, and impressionable, -illustrates the strength of weakness.</p> - -<p>That Hawthorne intended to show in Coverdale -the insufficiency of the profession of minor -poet to make anything of a man, we shall not pretend; -but his distrust of the worth of literature is -well known. Coverdale’s failure was no greater -than Hollingsworth’s, and he at least never played -with hearts.</p> - -<p>Zenobia is at once the most human, the most -attractive, and the most pathetic figure in the -drama. ‘But yet a woman,’ and too much woman, -so that her imperial beauty and grace, her wealth, -her skill to command, her magnetic charm, and -her intellectual gifts were insufficient to save her. -No less regal in endowment than was Hester -Prynne, she sank under a burden infinitely lighter -than Hester’s. Her nature was strong but impulsive, -and impulsiveness was Zenobia’s ruin.</p> - -<p>Rome is the scene of <i>The Marble Faun</i>, the longest -of Hawthorne’s romances, and in his opinion -the best. The author professed to have seen, in -the studio of an American sculptor, Kenyon, an -unfinished portrait bust, certain traits of which -led him to ask the history of the original. This -face, of a beautiful youth, might have been mistaken -for a not fortunate attempt to reproduce the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">311</span> -roguish countenance of the Faun of Praxiteles. -The resemblance was external merely; the beholder -presently detected something inscrutable -in the eyes, in the whole expression, as if powers of -the soul hitherto dormant were awaking, and with -the awakening had come anxiety, longing, grief, -remorse, in short a knowledge of good through a -sudden apprehension of evil.</p> - -<p>It was the portrait of a young Count of Monte -Beni (known as Donatello), whose family, an -ancient one, was believed to have sprung from the -union of one of those fabled woodland creatures, -half animal, half god, and an earthly maiden. At -long intervals the traits defining the origin of the -race were accentuated in a member of the family. -He was said to be ‘true Monte Beni.’ He lived -on the border line between two worlds, fearless -and happy, but also unthinking, a creature incapable -of doing wrong because his life was free, -natural, instinctive. Such was Donatello.</p> - -<p>The idea of a creature who should unite the -characteristics of the wild and the human fascinated -Hawthorne. The charm is elusive, and must be -elusive or it is no longer charming. Hawthorne -warns us against letting the idea harden in our -grasp or grow coarse from handling. For this -reason (and not for the sake of petty mystification) -Hawthorne will not disclose the one physical trait -which would have completed Donatello’s resemblance -to the Faun, the pointed, furry ears. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">312</span> -youth himself will jest with his friends on the subject, -but no more; the thick brown curls are never -brushed aside.</p> - -<p>So in Donatello’s attachment to Miriam, the -mysterious beauty of the story, there is something -animal-like, at once pathetic and fierce. Love does -not awaken the intellect, however; the youth remains -a child until the wrathful moment when he -holds the mad Capuchin, Miriam’s persecutor, -over the edge of the precipice, and reads in the -girl’s consenting eyes approval of the deed he is -about to commit. At this point Donatello’s real -life begins.</p> - -<p>The crime is far-reaching in its consequences, -blighting for weary months the happiness of the -gentle Hilda, a terrified eye-witness; but is most -sinister in its effect on Donatello, whose dumb -agony and remorse Hawthorne has painted with -a strong but subdued touch. Perhaps the most -striking of the incidents at Monte Beni is that -where the wretched Donatello tries to call the wild -creatures of the wood to him as he had been used -to do in the days of his innocence, and finds his -power gone, only some loathsome reptile coming -at his bidding.</p> - -<p>Hilda is one of the triumphs of Hawthorne’s -art. By what necromancy did he contrive to invest -a character so ethereal with life and interest? For -the type is by no means one that invariably attracts, -and the mere symbolism of the shrine,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">313</span> -the doves, together with an innocence which carries -its own safeguard, might have been used unsuccessfully -a thousand times before being wrought -by Hawthorne’s subtile power into enduring form.</p> - -<p>Kenyon is a proof of the instinct Hawthorne -had for avoiding the realistic fact. One would -fancy this a character which would take on realism -of its own accord, a character which could be depended -on to become human and bohemian, to -smoke, swear, tell emphatic stories, and yet be -gentle and high-minded withal, like Bret Harte’s -angel-miners. But Kenyon is almost as shadowy as -Hilda.</p> - -<p>Miriam with her rich dark beauty (making her -in contrast with Hilda as Night to Day) is the one -strong human character, capable of infinite pity and -infinite devotion, a woman to die for—if the need -were, and such need is not uncommon in romances. -The shadow of a nameless crime hangs over her, -from which, though innocent, she cannot escape. -She has warned Donatello of the fatality that attends -her. She holds his love in esteem so light -as to be almost contempt until the moment when -he shows the force to grapple with her enemy; -then love flames up in her own heart. For her -Donatello stains his hands with blood, suffers -agony indescribable, and then ‘comes back to his -original self, with an inestimable treasure of improvement -won from an experience of pain.’ -And as Miriam contemplates him on the day before<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">314</span> -he gives himself up to justice, she asks whether -the story of the fall of man has not been repeated -in the romance of Monte Beni.</p> - -<p>The deficiencies and excesses of <i>The Marble -Faun</i> have been often pointed out. The superabundance -of guide-book description which disturbed -Sir Leslie Stephen was noted by Hawthorne -as a defect and apologized for in the preface. It -is astonishing how it fits into place when, after -an interval of several years, one comes to re-read -the story. <i>The Marble Faun</i> is a magical piece of -work, its very enigmas, mysteries, and its inconclusiveness -tending to heighten the effect. And it -does not in the least detract from the enjoyment -that one cannot follow the author to the extent -of believing it his best work.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_61">VI<br /> - -<span class="subhead">LATEST AND POSTHUMOUS WRITINGS</span> - -<span class="subhead"><i>OUR OLD HOME</i>, <i>NOTE-BOOKS</i>, <i>DOLLIVER -ROMANCE</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><i>Our Old Home</i> is a volume of twelve chapters on -English life and experiences. Acute, frank, sympathetic, -modestly phrased, abounding in humor, -it may fairly be accounted one of the best of Hawthorne’s -works. The English are said to have been -disturbed by a number of the comments on their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">315</span> -character and manners. If so, they must be as -touchy as Americans. <i>Our Old Home</i> contains -nothing that should offend, unless indeed it be an -offence to speak of one’s neighbor in any terms -not those of unmitigated eulogy. Hawthorne noted -certain differences between the national types of -the two countries and gave an account of them. -But of any disposition to laud his own people at -the expense of their British cousins, the book contains -not a trace.</p> - -<p><i>Passages from the English Note-Books of Nathaniel -Hawthorne</i> is the raw material out of which -was fashioned such a charming and perfect literary -study as <i>Our Old Home</i>. It is idle to dispute over -the question whether the fragmentary journalizings -of an eminent author should or should not -be given to the public. They will always be given -to the public, and the public will always be grateful -for them, even though it has no deeper cause -for gratitude than that involved in satisfaction of -mere curiosity. At all events, the passion for looking -into the work-shop of a great artist cannot be -overcome. Perhaps this most trivial form of hero-worship -deserves countenance.</p> - -<p>The <i>Note-Books</i> (English, Italian, and American) -bear the same relation to <i>Our Old Home</i> that -a man talking with his most trusted friend bears -to that same man when talking with an agreeable -chance acquaintance. In the one case he is wholly -unguarded, in the other he keeps himself in check<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">316</span> -even at the moment he seems most frank and expansive.</p> - -<p><i>The Dolliver Romance</i> is one of a group of -studies for an elaborate narrative in which Hawthorne -proposed to trace the fortunes of an American -family back to those of its English forebears. -The idea of connecting the obscure New England -branch of the house with the proud Old-World -descendants by some vague claim on the ancestral -estate is almost too common in fiction. But Hawthorne -seems to have been drawn towards it by -his life in the consulate at Liverpool, where he had -continually to check the exuberance of misguided -fellow-countrymen who had appropriated, in mind, -not a few of the finest estates in England, and -only lacked faint encouragement to attempt entering -on actual possession.</p> - -<p>The idea of the Bloody Footstep was taken -from a tradition connected with Smithell’s Hall -in Bolton-le-Moors, and Hawthorne went to see -what purported to be the mark made in the stone -step by the unhappy man about whose mysterious -history the romance gathers. The quest and discovery -of an elixir of life is in itself a threadbare -motive, but could hardly have been commonplace -under Hawthorne’s treatment.</p> - -<p>He was not to complete his design. The four -versions of the story, <i>The Dolliver Romance</i>, <i>The -Ancestral Footstep</i>, <i>Septimius Felton</i>, and <i>Doctor -Grimshawe’s Secret</i>, furnish another glimpse into<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">317</span> -Hawthorne’s literary studio, though we are warned -not to infer that he always worked in the way the -existence of these fragments might suggest.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Hawthorne was the most gifted of our American -romancers. In a certain sense his field was a -narrow one, but the soil was rich, and there was -magic in his husbandry. He himself once declared -that he never knew what patriotism was -until he met an Englishman; that he was not an -American, New England was as big a lump of -earth as he could hold in his heart. The defect -(if indeed it be a defect) was one of the sources -of his power. Hawthorne did indeed love New -England, but to suppose that he loved it with a -blind and uncritical love is wholly to misunderstand -both the man and his work. He was the -genius of his little world. He knew its poetry and -its prose, its mystery, charm, beauty, and its repellent -and sordid features. New England will -have no profounder interpreter, though it may be -that as the superficial characteristics of the people -change, his transcripts of life will increasingly take -on the qualities of pure romance.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_38" href="#FNanchor_38" class="fnanchor">38</a> Enlarged edition, 1854.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_39" href="#FNanchor_39" class="fnanchor">39</a> Published in England under the absurd title of <i>Transformation</i>. -Hawthorne wrote to Henry Bright: ‘Smith and Elder do -take strange liberties with the titles of books. I wanted to call -it the <i>Marble Faun</i>, but they insisted on <i>Transformation</i> which -will lead the reader to expect a sort of pantomime.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_40" href="#FNanchor_40" class="fnanchor">40</a> Letter to Horatio Bridge, May 26, 1861.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_41" href="#FNanchor_41" class="fnanchor">41</a> Henry James: <i>Terminations</i>.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">321</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_11" class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XI">XI<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>Henry David Thoreau</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>R. W. Emerson</b>: ‘Thoreau’ in the ‘Atlantic Monthly,’ -August, 1862.</p> - -<p><b>W. E. Channing</b>: <i>Thoreau: the Poet Naturalist</i>, 1873.</p> - -<p><b>F. B. Sanborn</b>: <i>Thoreau</i>, ‘American Men of Letters,’ -1882.</p> - -<p><b>H. S. Salt</b>: <i>Thoreau</i>, ‘Great Writers,’ 1896.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_62">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Philippe Thoreau</span>, of the parish of Saint -Helier in the Isle of Jersey, had a son John -who emigrated to America and opened a store -on the Long Wharf in Boston. He married Jane -Burns, daughter of a well-to-do Scotchman from -the neighborhood of Stirling. John’s son John, -a lead-pencil maker of Concord, Massachusetts, -married Cynthia Dunbar, daughter of the Reverend -Asa Dunbar, of Keene, New Hampshire. Of their -four children Henry David Thoreau, the author -of <i>Walden</i>, was the third. He was born at Concord -on July 12, 1817.</p> - -<p>After his graduation at Harvard in the Class of -1837, Thoreau taught school, learned surveying -and the art of making lead-pencils, and began writing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">322</span> -and lecturing. The episode in his life which -gave him more than a local reputation was his camping -out by the shore of Walden Pond. He spent -two years and two months there studying how -‘to live deliberately.’ His hut, built by himself, -might have seemed bare and cheerless to a victim -of civilization. There was no carpet on the floor, -no curtain at the window. Every superfluity was -stripped off and life ‘driven into a corner’ in the -hope of discovering what it was made of. Thoreau -sturdily resisted the efforts of friends and neighbors -to burden him with trumpery, refusing the -gift of a door-mat on the plea that it was ‘best to -avoid the beginnings of evil,’ and throwing a -paper-weight out of the window ‘because it had -to be dusted every day.’</p> - -<p>He raised his own vegetables in a patch of -ground near by, made his own bread, and spent -his leisure time in recording his observations of -nature and in writing his first book, <i>A Week on the -Concord and Merrimack Rivers</i>. When he was satisfied -with this taste of life ‘reduced to its lowest -terms,’ he went back to civilization.</p> - -<p><i>A Week on the Concord and Merrimack</i> was a failure, -as publishers say; meaning that it did not sell. -Having published at his own expense, Thoreau -was financially embarrassed when seven hundred -and fifty copies of an edition of a thousand came -back on his hands. He said to a friend: ‘I have -added several hundred volumes to my library<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">323</span> -lately, all of my own composition.’<a id="FNanchor_42" href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">42</a> His second -venture, <i>Walden</i>, was more fortunate. He printed -a few articles in the ‘Boston Miscellany,’ ‘Putnam’s -Magazine,’ the ‘New York Tribune,’ ‘Graham’s -Magazine,’ and the ‘Atlantic Monthly,’ but at no -time could he be said to live by literature.</p> - -<p>His income from his lectures must have been -small, and apparently he made no effort to obtain -engagements. He had an exalted idea of -what constitutes a good lecture, and was suspicious -of oratory. He told his English acquaintance -Cholmondeley that he was from time to time congratulating -himself on his ‘general want of success -as a lecturer.... I do my work clean as I go -along, and they will not be likely to want me anywhere -again.’</p> - -<p>When Hawthorne was corresponding secretary -of the Salem Lyceum, he invited Thoreau in behalf -of the managers to give them a lecture. The -invitation was accepted. The lecture must have -had the fatal defect of being ‘interesting,’ for -Thoreau was asked to speak before the Lyceum a -second time the same winter.</p> - -<p>Thoreau was a radical Abolitionist and for six -years refused to pay his poll-tax, on the ground -that the tax went indirectly to the support of -slavery. For this delinquency he was once lodged -in the town-jail over night. In 1857 he made the -acquaintance of ‘one John Brown’ as a Southern-born<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">324</span> -president of a Northern college naïvely describes -that terrible old man. When two years later -news came of the desperate attempt at Harper’s -Ferry, Thoreau gave in a church vestry at Concord -his impassioned ‘Plea for Captain John Brown,’ -which one of his admirers regards as the most -significant of his utterances.</p> - -<p>Of the twelve volumes forming his collected -writings two only were seen by Thoreau in book -form. The remaining ten have been made up -of reprinted magazine articles or selections from -journals and letters. The list is as follows: <i>A -Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers</i>, 1849; -<i>Walden; or, Life in the Woods</i>, 1854; <i>Excursions</i> -(edited by R. W. Emerson and Sophia Thoreau), -1863; <i>The Maine Woods</i>, 1864; <i>Cape Cod</i>, 1865; -<i>Letters to Various Persons</i> [with Poems], 1865; -<i>A Yankee in Canada, with Anti-Slavery and Reform -Papers</i>, 1866; <i>Early Spring in Massachusetts</i>, -1881; <i>Summer</i>, 1884; <i>Winter</i>, 1888; <i>Autumn</i>, -1892; <i>Miscellanies</i>, 1894; <i>Familiar Letters of -Henry David Thoreau</i>, 1894.</p> - -<p>Thoreau ‘travelled widely’ in Concord and -made a few trips elsewhere. Aside from his excursions -to the Maine woods, the White Mountains, -Cape Cod, and Staten Island, he took no -long journey until 1861, when he went as far west -as Minnesota. He was in ill health then, and a -violent cold terminating in pulmonary consumption -brought about his death (May 6, 1862). It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">325</span> -has been often mentioned as a strange fact that -this man who almost symbolized the out-of-door -existence, who chanted its praises, and who was -unhappy unless he had at least ‘four hours a day -in the woods and fields,’ should have died, at the -age of forty-five, of exposure to the elements -which (according to his whimsical philosophy) -were more friendly than man.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_63">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THOREAU’S CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Without</span> posing, Thoreau contrived somehow to -gain the reputation of a poseur. Because his nose -was more Emersonian than Emerson’s, because -he lived for a time at Emerson’s house (where he -was beloved by every member of the family), -and because he affected the Orphic and seer-like -mode of expression, he was called an imitator. Because -he was a recluse and a stoic, and because his -letters were edited in a way to emphasize his -stoicism, he has been thought to lack the human -and friendly qualities.</p> - -<p>The charge of imitation has been refuted by -those who knew him best. ‘Doubtless his growth -was stimulated by kindred ideas. This is all that -can be granted. Utter independence, strong individuality -distinguished him. His one foible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">326</span> -was, not subserviency, but combativeness, mainly -from mere love of fence when he found a worthy -adversary, as his best friends knew almost too -well.’<a id="FNanchor_43" href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">43</a></p> - -<p>In many ways Thoreau was much like other -men. He was a devoted son, a brotherly brother, -a helpful neighbor, a genial companion. We have -his own word for it that he could out-sit the -longest sitter in the village tap-room if there were -occasion.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, he was not ‘approachable’ -in the common meaning of the word. He puzzled -many people. He could be angular, stiff, remote, -encrusted. Howells saw him in 1860, ‘a quaint -stump figure of a man.’<a id="FNanchor_44" href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">44</a> He sat on one side of -the room, having first placed his visitor in a chair -on the other side. It was more difficult to get near -him spiritually than physically. He seemed almost -unconscious of his caller’s presence.</p> - -<p>Emerson edited Thoreau’s letters so as to present -‘a most perfect piece of stoicism.’ It was the -side of his friend’s character in which he most -rejoiced. The book should be read exactly as -Emerson intended it to be read. Later it should be -supplemented by the <i>Familiar Letters</i>, which brings -into relief the affectionate and winning side of -Thoreau’s character.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">327</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_64">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE WRITER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Thoreau</span> was a painstaking student of the art of -expression, but never for its own sake, always as a -means to an end. One may conclude that it was -not mere author’s vanity which led him to resent -editorial tampering with his manuscript. He had -good reasons for believing that neither Curtis of -‘Putnam’s’ nor Lowell of ‘The Atlantic’ could -change his text to advantage. The question was -not one of mere nicety of phrase, but of that subtile -quality of style due to the inextricable interweaving -of the thought and the language in which -the thought is expressed.</p> - -<p>An out-of-doors writer, Thoreau’s power to -produce was in direct ratio of his intercourse with -Nature. If shut up in the house he could not -write at all. When he walked he stored up literary -virtue. He believed that nothing was so good -for the man of letters as work with the hands. It -cleared the style of ‘palaver and sentimentality.’</p> - -<p>The fresh wild beauty of Thoreau’s style (when -he is at his best) may be praised without reserve. -There is no danger of exaggerating its perfect -novelty and attractiveness; the danger is that we -may take the hint of these qualities for the reality. -Thoreau could be commonplace when he chose.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">328</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_65">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE BOOKS</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Early</span> in September, 1839, the Thoreau brothers, -John and Henry, made a voyage down the Concord -and Merrimac rivers. The boat used was of -their own building. It was painted blue and green, -had wheels by which it could be dragged around -the dams, and must have been as ugly as it was -useful. <i>A Week on the Concord and Merrimack</i> records -the unadventurous adventures of the two -young men both on this and other excursions.</p> - -<p>It is a medley of prose and verse, of homely -common-sense and lofty speculation. Side by side -with realistic portraits of plain people, farmers, -fishermen, boatmen, and lock-keepers, are minute -and exquisite descriptions of the life of field, mountain, -stream, lake, and air. The literary allusions -are many, and taken from sources as wide apart -as the poles, Shattuck (the historian of Concord) -and Anacreon, Gookin and Chaucer. Here is to -be found the famous essay on Friendship, the -spirit of which may be partly divined from this -sentence: ‘I could tame a hyena more easily than -my friend.’</p> - -<p>The poetry in the volume is a stumbling-block -to not a few readers. Doubtless it has its virtues, -but too often Thoreau’s poetry must be forgiven<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">329</span> -for the sake of his prose. The stiff, almost self-conscious -air of <i>A Week on the Concord and Merrimack</i> -and the hobbling verse help to explain the -indifference of the author’s contemporaries to a -very original work.</p> - -<p><i>Walden</i>, the second of Thoreau’s books, is the -better of the two, which does not mean that the first -could be spared. The style is easier, the flavor -more racy, the spirit more humorous. The attitude -of the writer is characteristically provoking -and pugnacious. The chapters abound in audacities -which at once pique and delight the reader. -This modern Diogenes-Crusoe, solving the problem -of existence on an improvised desert-island -two miles from his mother’s door-step, is a refreshing -figure.</p> - -<p>Life in the woods fascinated Thoreau. <i>Walden</i> -is a tribute to this fascination. In the absence of -domestic sounds he had the murmur of the forest, -the cry of the loon, the ‘tronk’ of the frog, and -the clangor of the wild-goose. Society was plenty -and of the best. His neighbors were the squirrel, -the field-mouse, the phœbe, the blue jay. Human -companionship was not wanting, for there were -visitors of all sorts, from the half-witted to those -who had more wits than they knew what to do with. -Matter-of-fact people were amazed at the young -man’s way of living, lacking the penetration to -see that he might live as he did from the humor -of it. When sceptics asked him whether he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">330</span> -thought he could subsist on vegetable food alone, -Thoreau, to strike at the root of the matter at once, -was accustomed to say that he ‘could live on board -nails.’ ‘If they cannot understand that they cannot -understand much that I say.’</p> - -<p>The Walden episode was an experiment in -emancipation, and the book is a challenge to mankind -to live more simply and freely. Thoreau -mocks at the worship of luxury. ‘I would rather -sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself than -be crowded on a velvet cushion. I would rather -ride on earth in an ox-cart, with a free circulation, -than go to heaven in the fancy car of an excursion -train and breathe a malaria all the way.’</p> - -<p><i>Excursions</i> is a collection of nine essays. Some -of them are formal and scientific with the Thoreau-esque -flavor (‘Natural History of Massachusetts,’ -‘The Succession of Forest Trees,’ -‘Autumnal Tints,’ ‘Wild Apples’), others are -pure Thoreau (‘A Walk to Wachusett,’ ‘The -Landlord,’ ‘A Winter Walk,’ ‘Walking,’ ‘Night -and Moonlight’). The flavor of these ‘wildlings -of literature,’ as a devotee happily calls them, is -as marked almost as that of <i>Walden</i>. They are, in -fact, <i>Walden</i> in miniature.</p> - -<p>The <i>Maine Woods</i> consists of three long essays, -‘Ktaadn,’ ‘Chesuncook,’ and ‘The Allegash and -East Branch.’ They are readable, informing, uninspired. -In the degree in which he left himself -out of his pages Thoreau became as tame and conventional<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">331</span> -as the most academic of writers. The -strength of some men of letters lies in conformity. -Thoreau is strongest in non-conformity.</p> - -<p><i>Cape Cod</i> is far more characteristic than the -<i>Maine Woods</i>. He who likes the savor of salt and -the tonic of ocean air will enjoy this book whether -he cares for Thoreau or not. It is interesting as -an early contribution to the history of Cape Cod -folks by a historian who was more of an enigma -to the natives than they were to him.</p> - -<p>The best part of <i>A Yankee in Canada</i> is not to -be found in the account of the excursion to Montreal -and Quebec, but in the sheaf of anti-slavery -and reform papers bound up in the same volume. -Here are printed the address on ‘Slavery in Massachusetts,’ -the paper on ‘Civil Disobedience,’ -containing the lively account of the author’s experience -in Concord jail, the two addresses on -John Brown, the essay on ‘Life without Principle,’ -and the critical study of ‘Thomas Carlyle and his -Works.’</p> - -<p>The four volumes named for the seasons are -valuable for the light they shed on Thoreau’s -method as a writer, and his skill and accuracy in -reporting the facts of Nature. They are sure to -be read by the faithful, because the genuine Thoreau -enthusiast can read his every line. The rest -of the world will be content to know him by two -or three of the twelve volumes bearing his name. -<i>A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">332</span> -alden</i>, the <i>Familiar Letters</i>, and a few essays -from <i>Excursions</i> and the Anti-Slavery papers ought -to be sufficient.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>No more than greater men of letters can Thoreau -be disposed of in a paragraph. Some of his -pronounced characteristics can be, however.</p> - -<p>He was a paradoxical philosopher. To praise -Nature at the expense of civilized society, to eulogize -the ‘perfection’ of the one and lament the -degradation of the other, to declare solemnly that -church spires deform the landscape, and that it -is a mistake to do a second time what has been -done once,—these declarations give a wholly incomplete -but, so far as they go, not unjust idea of -his manner. Taking Thoreau literally is a capital -way to breed a dislike for him. Grant him his own -manner of expressing his thought, make no effort -to exact conformity from so wayward a genius, and -at once you are, as Walt Whitman would say, -‘rapport’ with him. It is easy to exaggerate his -paradoxicalness. Say to yourself as you take up -the volume: ‘Now let us find out just how whimsical -this fellow can be,’ and straightway he disappoints -by not being whimsical at all.</p> - -<p>If Thoreau’s praise of Nature at the expense -of Society seems to border on the absurd, one must -bear in mind how complete and intimate was his -knowledge of what he praised. His love of forest, -lake, hill, and mountain, of beast and bird, was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">333</span> -deep, passionate, unremitting. He speaks somewhere -of an old man so versed in Nature’s ways -that apparently ‘there were no secrets between -them.’ This might have been said of Thoreau -himself. He could pay lofty tributes to the ‘mystical’ -quality in Nature; but he was not a mere -rhapsodist, a petty village Chateaubriand; he could -come straight down to tangible facts and recount -every detail of the advent of spring at Walden. -His power to see and his skill in describing the -thing seen unite to give the very atmosphere of -life in the woods.</p> - -<p>He was himself so complete an original and his -literary attractiveness is such that Thoreau numbers -among his best friends not only those who -are nature-blind but the confirmed city-men as -well, the frequenters of clubs, the lovers of pavements -and crowds. That some of the most appreciative -tributes to his genius should have come -from these is but one paradox the more in the -history of him who (at times) delighted above all -else in the paradoxical.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_42" href="#FNanchor_42" class="fnanchor">42</a> F. B. Sanborn: <i>The Personality of Thoreau</i>, p. 30.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_43" href="#FNanchor_43" class="fnanchor">43</a> Edward W. Emerson in the ‘Centenary’ Emerson, vol. x, -p. 607.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_44" href="#FNanchor_44" class="fnanchor">44</a> <i>Literary Friends and Acquaintance</i>, p. 59.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">337</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_12" class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XII">XII<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>Oliver Wendell Holmes</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>W. Sloane Kennedy</b>: <i>Oliver Wendell Holmes</i>, 1883.</p> - -<p><b>J. T. Morse, Jr.</b>: <i>Life and Letters of Oliver Wendell Holmes</i>, 1896.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_66">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Holmes</span> invented a phrase which became celebrated—‘the -Brahmin caste of New England,’ -that is to say, an aristocracy of culture. -The inventor of the phrase belonged to the class. -He was a son of the Reverend Abiel Holmes, -minister of the First Church of Cambridge and -author of that ‘painstaking and careful work,’ the -<i>American Annals</i>.</p> - -<p>Abiel Holmes (a great-grandson of John -Holmes, one of the settlers of Woodstock, Connecticut) -was twice married. His first wife was -Mary Stiles, daughter of President Ezra Stiles of -Yale College. Five years after her death he married -Sarah Wendell of Boston, who became the -mother of Oliver Wendell Holmes. Through the -Wendells, Holmes was related by one line of descent -to Anne Bradstreet; by another to Evert -Jansen Wendell of Albany.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">338</span></p> - -<p>The author of <i>The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table</i> -was born at Cambridge, Massachusetts, on Harvard -Commencement Day, August 29, 1809. After a -preliminary training at the Cambridgeport Academy -(where he had for schoolmates Margaret Fuller -and Richard Henry Dana) Holmes completed his -college preparation at Phillips Academy, Andover, -entered Harvard in the class of 1829, and in due -time was graduated.</p> - -<p>He had, or thought he had, an inclination to -carry the ‘green bag,’ and to this end spent a year -at the Dane (now Harvard) Law School, in Cambridge. -He soon discovered a greater inclination -towards medicine and entered the private medical -school of Doctor James Jackson, in Boston. In -1833 he became a student at the École de Médecine -in Paris, and during two busy winters heard the -lectures of Broussais, Andral, Louis, and other -teachers.</p> - -<p>In 1836 he began the practice of medicine in -Boston. During the two following years he competed -for and won four of the Boylston Prizes. -Enthusiastic in his profession, he found the life -of a general practitioner not to his liking, and -when, in 1838, the professorship of anatomy and -physiology at Dartmouth College was offered him, -he was ‘mightily pleased.’ He held the position -for two years (1839–40); residence at Hanover -was required for three months of each year.</p> - -<p>Some time before going to Hanover, Holmes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">339</span> -was writing to his friend Phineas Barnes, congratulating -him on having entered into ‘the beatific -state of duality,’ and wishing himself in like case. -‘I have flirted and written poetry long enough,’ -he said, ‘and I feel that I am growing domestic -and tabby-ish.’ On June 15, 1840, he married -Miss Amelia Jackson, a daughter of Judge Charles -Jackson of Boston. She was a young woman of -rare endowments. ‘Every estimable and attractive -quality of mind and character seemed to be hers.’<a id="FNanchor_45" href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">45</a></p> - -<p>In 1847 Holmes was appointed Parkman professor -of anatomy and physiology in the Harvard -Medical School. The multifarious extra cares involved -led him to say that in those early days he -occupied not a chair in the college but a settee. -He held the position for thirty-five consecutive -years.</p> - -<p>The reputation which Holmes began early to -build up through his writings was partly literary, -partly scientific, partly a compound of both. -Lovers of well-turned and witty verse knew him -through his <i>Poems</i> (1836) and his metrical essays, -<i>Urania</i> (1846) and <i>Astræa</i> (1850). The public, -always solicitous about its health, heard or read -the two lectures on <i>Homœopathy and its kindred -Delusions</i> (1842). Physicians made his acquaintance -through the <i>Boylston Prize Dissertations</i> -(1836–37), and the <i>Essay on the Contagiousness of -Puerperal Fever</i> (1843).</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">340</span></p> - -<p>Fame came to Holmes in 1857 when he began -printing in the newly founded ‘Atlantic Monthly’ -a series of papers entitled <i>The Autocrat of the -Breakfast-Table</i>. Reprinted as a book, it at once -took its proper place as an American classic, and -now after forty-eight years its popularity seems in -no degree lessened.</p> - -<p>The following list contains the principal works -upon which Holmes’s reputation as a man of -letters rests. A full bibliography must be consulted -if one would know the extent of his literary -and scientific activity: <i>The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table</i>, -1858; <i>The Professor at the Breakfast-Table</i>, -1860; <i>Currents and Counter-Currents, with -Other Addresses</i>, 1861; <i>Elsie Venner</i>, 1861; <i>Songs -in Many Keys</i>, 1862; <i>Soundings from the Atlantic</i>, -1864; <i>The Guardian Angel</i>, 1867; <i>The Poet at -the Breakfast-Table</i>, 1872; <i>Songs of Many Seasons</i>, -1875; <i>Memoir of John Lothrop Motley</i>, 1879; <i>The -Iron Gate and Other Poems</i>, 1880; <i>Pages from an -Old Volume of Life</i>, 1883; <i>A Mortal Antipathy</i>, -1885; <i>Ralph Waldo Emerson</i>, 1885; <i>Our Hundred -Days in Europe</i>, 1887; <i>Before the Curfew and Other -Poems</i>, 1888; <i>Over the Teacups</i>, 1891.</p> - -<p>Holmes’s life was without marked incident. His -work at the Medical School, his public lectures, -social engagements, the normal and agreeable responsibilities -of home and society, filled the measure -of his days. The visit to England in 1886, -when he was made a D. C. L. by Oxford, a Litt. D.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">341</span> -by Cambridge, and an LL. D. by Edinburgh, was -something like apotheosis, if the term be not too -extravagant.</p> - -<p>He endured the evils consequent on old age -with philosophic composure, and it became at -the last a matter of scientific curiosity with him to -see how long he could maintain life. He was -spared a tedious illness, and died an almost painless -death on October 7, 1894.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_67">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE MAN</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Among</span> the ‘Autocrat’s’ distinguishing traits was -humanity. He has recorded the feeling of ‘awe-stricken -sympathy’ at first sight of the white faces -of the sick in the hospital wards. ‘The dreadful -scenes in the operating theatre—for this was -before the days of ether—were a great shock to -my sensibilities.’ His nerves hardened in time, -but he was always keenly alive to human suffering. -There is a note of contempt in his reference to -Lisfranc, the surgeon, who ‘regretted the splendid -guardsmen of the Empire because they had such -magnificent thighs to amputate.’</p> - -<p>It was once said of Holmes that he was difficult -to catch unless he were wanted for some kind act. -He lost no opportunity to give happiness. In old<span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">342</span> -age when flattery was tedious, and blindness imminent, -and the autograph hunter had become a burden, -he patiently wrote his name and transcribed -stanzas of ‘Dorothy Q.’ or ‘The Last Leaf’ for -admirers from all parts of the earth. This was -the smallest tax on his good nature. For years -he had been expected to act as counsel and sometimes -as literary agent for all the minor poets of -America. Many of these innocents conceived -Holmes as automatically issuing certificates to the -virtue of their work. He was always kind and -invariably plain-spoken. To the author of an epic -he wrote: ‘I cannot conscientiously advise you -to print your poem; it will be an expense to you, -and the gain to your reputation will not be an -equivalent.’</p> - -<p>Holmes believed in the humanizing influences -of good blood, social position, and wealth. It was -no small matter, he thought, to have a descent from -men who had played their parts acceptably in the -drama of life. He preferred the man with the -‘family portraits’ to the man with the ‘twenty-cent -daguerreotype’ unless he had reason to believe -that the latter was the better man of the two. -His amusing poem, ‘Contentment,’ is not a jest, -but a plain statement of his philosophy.</p> - -<p>Open-minded in literary and scientific matters, -he was delightfully conservative about places. -He respected the country and loved the town. A -city man, he was also a man of one city. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">343</span> -professed to have been the discoverer of Myrtle -Street, the abode of ‘peace and beauty, and virtue, -and serene old age.’ Thus it looked to him as -he explored its ‘western extremity of sunny courts -and passages.’ Holmes’s books contain many -proofs of his cat-like attachment to city nooks -and corners, his liking for odd streets, unexpected -turns, and winding ways. ‘I have bored this ancient -city through and through, until I know it -as an old inhabitant of a Cheshire knows his -cheese.’</p> - -<p>Holmes enjoyed above all the sense of an undisturbed -possession of things. He complained -of the march of modern improvement only when -he found himself improved out of one house -and driven to take refuge in another. He thought -that a wretched state of affairs whereby a man was -compelled to move every twenty or thirty years.</p> - -<p>With his sunny nature Holmes found it difficult -to be a good hater. He had but two violent -antipathies, Calvinism and homœopathy. On these -he concentrated the little measure of asperity he -possessed, together with a large measure of vigorous -logic and frank contempt.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">344</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_68">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE WRITER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">In</span> his characteristic prose style Holmes is easy, -familiar, off-hand, in short, conversational. He -may have spent hours over his paragraphs, but with -their air of unpremeditation they give no sign of -it. The manner of his prose is well-bred but nonchalant. -Yet there is always a note of reserve. -The Autocrat is less familiar than he seems.</p> - -<p>The conversational style permits abrupt turns, -sudden transitions, a pleasant negligence. It also -has narrow limits; it cannot rise to eloquence, and -fine writing is apt to seem out of place. Holmes -knew pretty accurately the limits of his instrument.</p> - -<p>Like other practised writers, he varied his style -to fit his subject. And while a certain winsomeness -is never wanting, it is less apparent in the -novels than in the ‘Breakfast-Table’ books, and -in the biographies than in the novels. Often he -becomes business-like, extremely matter of fact, -clearly determined to make his point or to solve -his problem without waste of words or superfluous -ornament.</p> - -<p>With respect to his verse we have been told -that Holmes was a ‘consummate master of all that -is harmonious, graceful, and pleasing in rhythm -and in language.’ Had the eulogist been speaking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">345</span> -of Tennyson, or Swinburne, or Shelley, he -could have said little more. Holmes’s verse is -neat, precise, felicitous, often graceful, unmistakably -clever, abounding in pointed phrase and happy -rhyme, but taken as a whole it must be adjudged -the poetry of a cultivated gentleman and a wit -rather than the poetry of a poet.</p> - -<p>Much of it has a distinctly old-fashioned air, contrasting -oddly with the freshness and ‘modernity’ -of the poet’s prose. In his own phrase Holmes -‘was trained after the schools of classical English -verse as represented by Pope, Goldsmith, and -Campbell.’ The metrical essays (<i>Poetry</i>, <i>Astræa</i>, -<i>Urania</i>) show how strong was the Eighteenth-century -influence. The choice of metre cannot -be questioned. If audiences will have poetic dissertations, -they probably suffer least under the -heroic couplet. It is easy to comprehend, and not -difficult to write; and the form of the verse tempts -to cleverness.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_69">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>THE AUTOCRAT</i> AND ITS COMPANIONS, -<i>OVER THE TEACUPS</i>, <i>OUR HUNDRED -DAYS IN EUROPE</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> motto, ‘Every man his own Boswell,’ on the -title-page of <i>The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table</i>, -is a key to the book. The conceit has merits besides<span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">346</span> -that of novelty. There is a world of humorous -suggestion in the idea of ‘doubling’ the parts -of philosophic wit and worshipping reporter.</p> - -<p>The scene is a Boston boarding-house with its -more or less commonplace people, the landlady, -her daughter, her son Benjamin Franklin, the -young fellow called John, the old gentleman who -sits opposite, the poor relation, the divinity student, -the schoolmistress, and the Autocrat himself. -They talk, listen, jest, laugh. Little by little the -commonplace characters grow attractive. Pleasant -and lovable traits come to light. There is pathos, -sentiment, a deal of mirth, but little action. The -Autocrat marries the schoolmistress towards the -close of the book. So much likeness is there to -an old-fashioned love story, and no more.</p> - -<p>In general the characters interest less for what -they say than for what they prompt the Autocrat -to say. He says many things, and all so wise, so -entertaining, so clever. When Holmes threw off -these sparkling paragraphs month by month, he -could have had little idea what the index would -reveal. He glances from subject to subject, touching -lightly here and lightly there. Poetry, pugilism, -horse-racing, theology, and tree-lore are all equally -interesting to him and to us. The reader is not -too long detained by any one thing. An infinite -number of topics are handled with effervescent -gayety in a manner sometimes called ‘French.’ -Holmes accused Emerson of want of logical sequence.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">347</span> -That was a master stroke. Open a volume -of the Breakfast-Table series at random and -you chance on the oddest combinations of subjects, -as when a paragraph on insanity is followed by a -paragraph on private theatricals—perhaps a less -illogical juxtaposition than at first sight appears. -Waywardness and inconsequence are among the -principal charms of <i>The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table</i>.</p> - -<p>That a book so distinctively local in atmosphere -and allusion should have attained at once and -kept to this day widespread popularity is a little -surprising. For local it is—provincial, as New -Yorkers would say. At all events, it is Bostonian -to the last degree. The little city, compact and -picturesque, was not merely the background, the -scene of the breakfast-table episodes and conversations; -the entire volume is saturated with the atmosphere -of Boston. To Holmes it was the one -city worth while, the city whose State House was -Hub of the Solar System. By his testimony (and -who should know better?) you could not pry -that out of a Boston man if you had the tire of all -creation straightened out for a crowbar.</p> - -<p>The <i>Autocrat</i> was followed by the <i>Professor</i> and -the <i>Poet</i>. The critical history of sequels is well -known. Seldom a complete failure, they are rarely -an unqualified success. Yet it is not easy to see -wherein <i>The Professor at the Breakfast-Table</i> falls -much below <i>The Autocrat</i>. The book would be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">348</span> -justified were it only for the pathetic figure of -Little Boston, to say nothing of Iris, the young -Marylander, the Model of all the Virtues, and the -Koh-i-noor. It is something, too, to have seen the -landlady’s daughter appropriately wedded to an -undertaker, and the young fellow called John also -married, and in possession of ‘one of them little -articles’ for which he had longed in the days of -bachelorhood, to wit, a boy of his own.</p> - -<p><i>The Poet at the Breakfast-Table</i>, a storehouse of -delightful inventions, proved the least attractive -of the three to the public. But all of Holmes’s -old-time skill returned when he wrote <i>Over the -Teacups</i>, his last book. The framework is simple -but attractive, the characters have genuine vitality -and pique the reader by suggesting that they -must have been drawn from life. The Dictator -is an old friend. Number Five, the Tutor, the -Counsellor, the two Annexes, Number Seven, -the Mistress and Delilah are agreeable acquaintances, -and the misfortune is ours if we do not know -them as well as the figures of <i>The Autocrat</i>.</p> - -<p>All these books are personal, known as such, -and deriving half their charm from the reader’s -ability to recognize Holmes himself under various -disguises. In <i>Our Hundred Days in Europe</i> the -author speaks <i>in propria persona</i>, and the volume -may be described as a big printed letter addressed -to the writer’s friends, who, loving him as they do, -will rejoice in his happiness and his triumphs.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">349</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_70">V<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE POET</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> Autocrat’s poetical works contain a generous -measure of what elderly bards call their ‘juvenilia.’ -We all understand the term. It means -verses which the bards in question would gladly -have left in the solitude of old magazines, and -which admirers insist on dragging into light,—poems -that help to stock the school readers and -speakers, and which, because the copyright has -expired by the unjust law of the land, compilers -of anthologies seize on and parade as representative.</p> - -<p>That Holmes suffers but little by the persistence -of his ‘juvenilia’ and ‘early verses’ is due to -their frankly comic and grotesque character. The -reader is spared faded sentiment, and he is heartily -amused by the ingenuity of the conceits, the sparkle -of the rhymes, the satire, the epigrammatic -wit. There is mirth still in that brilliant essay in -verbal gymnastics ‘The Comet’ (a dyspeptic’s -dream), in ‘The September Gale’ (a boy’s lament -for his Sunday breeches, blown from the line one -fatal wash-day and never recovered), in ‘The -Spectre Pig’ (a parody on Dana’s ‘Buccaneer’), -in ‘The Height of the Ridiculous,’ ‘Daily Trials,’ -‘The Treadmill Song,’ ‘The Dorchester Giant,’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">350</span> -‘The Music-Grinders,’ and the heartlessly funny -poem entitled ‘My Aunt.’</p> - -<p>Holmes was the readiest and the happiest of -‘occasional’ poets. No one was so apt as he in -meeting the needs of the moment, in brightening -with rhymed felicities the banquet, the class -reunion, or in greeting the distinguished stranger. -He had rare skill in fitting the word to the audience; -it was impossible for him to be dull, and -being good-humored, it was difficult for him to -say ‘No’ when committees were importunate. Of -his three hundred and twenty-seven poems, nearly -one half are poems of occasion. He wrote the -greeting to Charles Dickens, to the Prince Imperial, -a poem for the Moore celebration, for the -dedication of the Stratford Fountain, for the two -hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the founding -of Harvard College. His poems for the Class of -1829, forty-four in number, reflect the history -of the times as well as the mood of the writer. -The most famous of them is ‘The Boys’ (1859). -Its motive, that boy-nature never quite dies in the -man, and its defiant optimism were calculated to -have rejuvenating effect on a group of classmates -then thirty years out of college.</p> - -<p>This art requires a quality of mind akin to that -of the improvisatore. Holmes was Boston’s poet -laureate. His power to put an idea into self-singing -measure saved the battle-ship ‘Constitution,’ and -did much to save the ‘Old South’ Church.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">351</span></p> - -<p>In his finer work there is a delicious blending -of thoughtfulness and humorous fancy. Only -Holmes could have given the lines on ‘Dorothy -Q.’ their most original touch,—asking what would -have been the result for <i>him</i> had prospective great-grandmother -said ‘No’ instead of <span class="locked">‘Yes’:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Should I be I, or would it be</div> - <div class="verse indent0">One tenth another to nine tenths me?</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Half the pathos in that fragile and beautiful -piece of workmanship, ‘The Last Leaf,’ derives -from the humor, from the blending of laughter -and tears. Even in the exquisite piece, attributed -to Iris, ‘Under the Violets,’ a description of a -young girl’s burial-place, the lighter touch is not -wholly <span class="locked">wanting:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">When, turning round their dial-track,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Eastward the lengthening shadows pass,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Her little mourners, clad in black,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The crickets, sliding through the grass,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Shall pipe for her an evening mass.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>His highest flights are represented by ‘The -Chambered Nautilus’ and ‘Musa,’ by the quaint -and fanciful ‘Homesick in Heaven,’ and by the -simple and pathetic little lament entitled ‘Martha.’ -His claim to the name of poet must rest on these, -on his fine setting of the romance of Agnes -Surriage, and on his tributes to Bryant and to -Everett.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">352</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_71">VI<br /> - -<span class="subhead">FICTION AND BIOGRAPHY</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Holmes</span> wrote three novels. Although readable, -original, based on a thorough comprehension of -the scenes described, the life, antecedents, prejudices, -habits, and manners of the people portrayed, -nevertheless they strike one as being experiments -in fiction rather than true novels. They may be -classed with similar attempts by J. G. Holland -and Bayard Taylor. Each of these writers was a -practised craftsman. The trained man of letters -can write a volume which he, his friends, his publishers, -the public, and many fair-minded critics -agree in calling a novel. But the book in question -does not become a novel from having been cast -in the orthodox form. It resembles a novel more -nearly than it resembles anything else, nevertheless -it is not a veritable novel. Any reader can feel it, -though he may not be able to say just where the -difference lies, or how there happens to be a difference. -Many a writer, it would seem, has only to -continue his efforts to arrive finally at the making -of a true novel. He falls short because his mind -is working in an unwonted medium rather than -because he lacks inventive ability.</p> - -<p>If <i>Elsie Venner</i> and <i>The Guardian Angel</i> fail of -being true novels, they are at least highly successful<span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">353</span> -studies in fiction and have given and will -continue to give a world of pleasure. If <i>A Mortal -Antipathy</i> falls short of the excellence attained by -the other two, it has at least the virtue of having -been written by a man who could not be uninteresting, -no matter what was his age or his humor.</p> - -<p><i>Elsie Venner</i> is a study in prenatal influences. -The motive is gruesome enough. A young woman, -bitten by a snake, transmits certain tendencies -thus derived to her child. The subject was better -adapted to Hawthorne’s pen than to the Autocrat’s. -A man of science knows too much. Imagination -is hampered. ‘What is’ and ‘What might be’ are -in perpetual conflict. A poet (such as Hawthorne -essentially was) throws science to the winds. -Holmes goes at the problem in a brisk, business-like -way. Hawthorne would have treated it as a -mystery, not dragging it into broad light.</p> - -<p><i>Elsie Venner</i> was dramatized and staged. Holmes -went to see it. What he thought of the play at -the time is not recorded, but in after years he -pronounced it ‘bad, very bad.’</p> - -<p><i>The Guardian Angel</i> also deals with the question -of heredity. The problem of how many of our -ancestors come out in us, and just how they make -themselves felt, was always fascinating to Holmes. -There are no snakes in this story to account for -Myrtle Hazard’s peculiarities, but something quite -as enigmatical, namely, an Indian. One character -in <i>The Guardian Angel</i> has come near to achieving<span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">354</span> -immortality—Gifted Hopkins, the minor poet, -whose name was an inspiration. He represents a -harmless and much-abused race. The successful in -his own craft are even more impatient with him -than the mockers among the laity, probably because -Gifted, in the innocence of his heart, desires -to have his verses read, and sends them to eminent -poets under the mistaken impression that they will -be welcome. Holmes confessed that he had been -hard on Gifted Hopkins.</p> - -<p>The memoir of <i>John Lothrop Motley</i>, in addition -to being a formal record of personal history and -literary achievement, is a spirited defence of a -proud, a gifted, and (in the biographer’s opinion) -an ill-used man, a man who, after years of successful -public service, was needlessly and wantonly -humbled and mortified. Hence the note of fine -indignation which vibrates through the narrative.</p> - -<p>The life of <i>Emerson</i> contributed by Holmes to -the series of ‘American Men of Letters’ was a -surprise to the public. To call for judgment on -the most transcendental of New England authors -by the least transcendental, to invite the poet of -‘The One-Hoss Shay’ to pronounce on the poet -of ‘The Sphinx,’ seems an odd if not a humorous -performance. Whoever suggested it did a wise -thing, and the result of the suggestion was a useful -and agreeable piece of biographical writing.</p> - -<p>The work is thoroughly done, even to an -analysis of the individual essays. Who will, may<span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">355</span> -view Emerson through the Autocrat’s eyes. They -had a close bond in their liking for the tangible -facts of life. ‘Too much,’ says Holmes, ‘has been -made of Emerson’s mysticism. He was an intellectual -rather than an emotional mystic, and withal -a cautious one. He never let go the string of his -balloon.’</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>That we read Holmes on Emerson less for the -sake of Emerson than for the sake of Holmes suggests -the possibility that we read all the Autocrat’s -books in the same spirit. Without question his -work is of value in the degree in which it reveals -its author. He could not be impersonal, he could -not be dramatic. But he was fortunate in that he -could always be himself. He was one of the most -delightful of men. And being likewise one of the -friendliest of writers he is most successful when -the form of his books, like <i>The Autocrat</i> and <i>Over -the Teacups</i>, permits him, as it were, to bring his -easy chair into the centre of the room while we -gather about him anxious to have him begin to -talk, hoping that he will be in no haste to leave -off.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_45" href="#FNanchor_45" class="fnanchor">45</a> J. T. Morse, Jr.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">359</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_13" class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XIII">XIII<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>John Lothrop Motley</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>O. W. Holmes</b>: <i>John Lothrop Motley, a Memoir</i>, 1879.</p> - -<p><b>G. W. Curtis</b> (edited): <i>The Correspondence of John -Lothrop Motley, D. C. L.</i>, 1889.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_72">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Motley</span> was born at Dorchester, Massachusetts, -on April 15, 1814. His great-grandfather, -John Motley, came from Belfast, Ireland, -early in the Eighteenth Century, and settled at -Falmouth, now Portland, Maine. His father, -Thomas Motley, a prosperous merchant of Boston, -married Anna Lothrop, daughter of the Reverend -John Lothrop. The historian, the second-born -of their eight children, was named in honor of his -maternal grandfather.</p> - -<p>After a course of study under Cogswell and -Bancroft at the Round Hill School, Motley entered -Harvard College and was graduated in 1831. -He was noted both at Northampton and Cambridge -for intellectual brilliancy rather than studiousness, -for a regal manner which did not tend to -make him universally popular, and for rare personal -beauty as was becoming in a youth whose<span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">360</span> -parents were reputed in their younger days ‘the -handsomest pair the town of Boston could show.’ -He was a wit. ‘Give me the luxuries of life and -I will dispense with the necessaries,’ is one of his -best-known sayings. His passions were literary, -he admired Shelley and enjoyed the cleverness of -Praed. Although fond of versifying, he seems to -have printed little or nothing.</p> - -<p>After graduation Motley spent two years -(1832–33) at German universities. He went first -to Göttingen, where he made the acquaintance of -Bismarck. They were fellow-students the next -year at Berlin. ‘We lived in closest intimacy, -sharing meals and outdoor exercise,’ said Bismarck -in a letter to Holmes.</p> - -<p>His period of foreign study having come to -an end, Motley read law in Boston and was admitted -to the bar. In 1837 he married Miss Mary -Benjamin, a young woman noted for her beauty, -cleverness, and an open-hearted sincerity which -‘made her seem like a sister to those who could -help becoming her lovers.’<a id="FNanchor_46" href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">46</a> Two years after his -marriage Motley made his literary beginning by -publishing a novel, <i>Morton’s Hope, or the Memoirs -of a Provincial</i>, and in 1849 he published yet -another, <i>Merry-Mount, a Romance of the Massachusetts -Colony</i>. Neither was successful. Perhaps -the second failure was required to emphasize the -lesson taught by the first, that the author’s gifts were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">361</span> -not for imaginative work.<a id="FNanchor_47" href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">47</a> He was more fortunate -with a group of three essays printed in the ‘North -American Review,’ one on ‘Peter the Great’ -(1845), one on ‘Balzac’ (1847), the third on ‘The -Polity of the Puritans’ (1849).</p> - -<p>The first subject was suggested to Motley during -a residence of several months in St. Petersburg -as Secretary to the American Legation (1841–42). -This taste of diplomatic life seems not to have -been wholly relished. Motley’s wife could not -accompany him, and homesickness and a Russian -winter conspired to drive him back to America. -He gained some knowledge of practical politics -by serving a term in the Massachusetts legislature -(1849). Neither law, nor diplomacy, nor yet politics, -seemed at that time to offer a field in which -he could work to best advantage. More and more -he was tending towards literature. So absorbed -had he become in the history of Holland that he -felt it ‘necessary to write a book on the subject, -even if it were destined to fall dead from the -press.’ He had made some progress when he -heard of Prescott’s projected history of Philip the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">362</span> -Second. Thinking it ‘disloyal’ not to declare his -ambition of invading a part of Prescott’s own -domain, he went to lay his plan before the elder -historian. Prescott immediately offered the use of -books from his library and was in all ways cordial -and enthusiastic.</p> - -<p>It soon became evident that a history of Holland -could not be written in America. In 1851 -Motley took his family and went abroad, and for -the next five years toiled unweariedly among the -archives of Dresden, The Hague, Brussels, and -Paris. His energy and plodding patience surprised -the friends who remembered Motley for a -brilliant young man who heretofore had played -industriously at work rather than actually worked. -‘He never shrank from any of the drudgery of -preparation,’ said his daughter, Lady Harcourt, -in after years.</p> - -<p>The three volumes of <i>The Rise of the Dutch -Republic</i> were at length ready for the press. Motley -was forced to publish at his own expense. -Notwithstanding hostile criticisms, the success was -undeniable. The book was immediately translated -into French, German, and Dutch. Of two French -versions the one published in Paris was edited, -with an introduction, by Guizot.</p> - -<p>The historical series as we have it comprises -nine volumes. The works appeared in the following -order: <i>The Rise of the Dutch Republic</i>, 1856; -<i>History of the United Netherlands</i>, 1860–68; <i>The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">363</span> -Life and Death of John of Barneveld</i>, 1874. Motley’s -plan included a history of the Thirty Years’ -War. But he was not to be granted length of days -sufficient for the writing of this ‘last act of a great -drama.’</p> - -<p>Among many scholastic honors which in the -nature of things fell to Motley’s share may be -mentioned the conferring of the degree of D. C. L. -by Oxford, and the election to full membership -in the Institute of France.</p> - -<p>Shortly after the fall of Fort Sumter, Motley -published in the London ‘Times’ two letters on -the significance and justice of the war. They had -a marked effect in England and were reprinted in -America. In June, 1861, the Austrian government -having refused to accept the minister sent to -Vienna, Motley was accredited to the mission. -After discharging the duties of his office with -marked ability during the four troubled years of -Lincoln’s administration, and through two years -of Johnson’s, he resigned because of an affront -offered him by his own government.<a id="FNanchor_48" href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">48</a></p> - -<p>During the political campaign of 1868 Motley -gave an address in Music Hall, Boston, on ‘Four -Questions for the People at the Presidential Election.’ -On December 16, as orator at the sixty-first -anniversary of the New York Historical Society,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">364</span> -he spoke on ‘Historic Progress and American -Democracy.’ In the spring of 1869 President -Grant assigned Motley to the English mission, -and in July, 1870, recalled him. The reasons given -for this summary act have never been satisfactory -to Motley’s friends. It is a question for experts. -If Motley’s indiscretion (or offence) was great, his -punishment was severe, and the manner of it not -undeserving of the epithet brutal.<a id="FNanchor_49" href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">49</a></p> - -<p>Motley’s health is believed to have been affected -by distress of mind over the recall. But the real -disaster of his latter years was the loss of his wife. -He survived her only two and a half years. His -death occurred at Kingston Russell, near Dorchester, -England, on May 29, 1877.</p> - -<p>Dean Stanley in his tribute to Motley at Westminster -Abbey used the striking phrase, ‘an historian -at once so ardent and so laborious.’ J. R. -Green, who heard the sermon, thought the phrase -‘most happy.’ Said Green: ‘I should have liked -Stanley to have pointed out the thing which strikes -me most in Motley, that alone of all men past -and present he knit together not only America -and England, but that Older England which -we left on Frisian shores, and which grew into -the United Netherlands. A child of America, -the historian of Holland, he made England his -adopted country, and in England his body lies.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">365</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_73">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Motley’s</span> letters afford the best insight into his -generous, affectionate, richly endowed, and manly -nature. They mirror his complete happiness in -the home circle, his chivalrous devotion to the -woman of his choice, his loyalty to his friends, -and his passionate love of native land. They do -not show—nor was it intended by the editor -that they should—his fiery impatience, his quick -resentment, his sensitive pride, his occasional and -pardonable bitterness.</p> - -<p>A dominant trait of Motley’s character was -intensity of the patriotic sentiment. Much was -required of a ‘good American’ who, living in -Europe during the Civil War, frequented the -circles Motley frequented—much in the way of -tact, patience, and, above all, courage and hopefulness. -Motley, who was far from being a placid, -unreflecting optimist, had need of all his philosophy -as he saw everywhere proofs of satisfaction -in America’s misfortune. He had not only to -meet a frank antagonism which could be understood -and dealt with, but a hostility which took -the galling form of suave assurances that his country -was positively going to the dogs, and on the -whole it was a very good thing that it was. If<span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">366</span> -gentlemen did not exactly call on him for the purpose -of telling him so, they managed sometimes -to leave that impression. Motley’s services to his -country in meeting every form of attack, direct or -insidious, in the spirit of high confidence, were very -great. The extent of his usefulness has not yet -been fully measured.</p> - -<p>He was free from literary vanity and would have -been quite unmoved had his books come short of -their actual fortune. His way of accepting the real -or the superficial tributes to success shows the man. -Honorary degrees, elections to learned societies, -drawing-room lionizing, passing compliments, were -taken exactly for what they were worth. He was -as far removed from the absurdity of being elated -by these things as he was from the absurdity of -pretending not to care. No one could have been -more alive to the significance of a degree from -Oxford, yet Motley seems to have got the most -of comfort on that occasion from the odd spectacle -of the Doctors marching in the rain, and among -them old Brougham ‘with his wonderful nose -wagging lithely from side to side as he hitched -up his red petticoats and stalked through the -mud.’</p> - -<p>The letters reveal so many pleasant traits as to -make it difficult to comprehend the hostility which -pursued the writer. Holmes throws a deal of light -on that question by a single remark. Motley, he -says, ‘did not illustrate the popular type of politician.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">367</span> -The fact is, he illustrated everything that -was opposed to that type. An uncompromising -upholder of the democratic theory, a bitter foe of -absolutism, a eulogist of the people, Motley was -himself an aristocrat to the finger-tips. ‘He had -a genuine horror of vulgarity in all its forms,’ -said one of his friends, and doubtless he showed -it. An ‘instinctive repugnance to bad manners -and coarse-grained men’ was a trait ill-suited to -popularity. Motley’s high-bred bearing alone -constituted an offence. But he was incapable of -so much policy as was involved in pretending to -a bonhomie that was unnatural to him. He had a -pliancy of nature fitted to the complex needs of a -very complex social organization, but that was not -enough to satisfy all his exacting countrymen. And -among them were those who disliked him for being -the gentleman he was.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_74">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE WRITER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> historian of the Dutch Republic writes as one -who thinks nobly, admires with enthusiasm, and -hates without pettiness. ‘His thoughts are masculine, -full of argumentation,’ and as are his -thoughts so is his style. Often the language seems -charged with his own energy and chivalric impulsiveness.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_368">368</span> -At such times the style is eager, mettlesome, -impetuous, it glows with intensity of feeling.</p> - -<p>Motley was not a ‘fine’ writer in the sense of -being visibly scrupulous about the choice of words -and the balance of sentences. He impresses one -as of the opinion that a man can ill afford to give -too much time to the problem of expression. But -he is far from being indifferent to the reader. He -is not merely willing, he prefers to please, provided -that in so doing he is not diverted from his -main purpose. The prevailing characteristics of -his style are a natural dignity and a manly negligence.</p> - -<p>He imparts vividness by means of detailed conversations -among the actors of the historic drama. -These colloquies have at times the air of being -inventions of the historian, like the speeches in -Xenophon. Conscious that a device intended to -give reality might affect the sceptical mind quite -otherwise, Motley more than once explained that -‘no historical personage is ever made, in the text, -to say or write anything, save what, on ample -evidence, he is known to have said or written.’</p> - -<p>The reader who turns from Prescott to Motley -at once discovers that the younger historian weaves -a dense, firm web. Appropriating an admirable -figure invented by Henry James and used with respect -to Balzac’s style, it may be said that if Motley’s -work is not at every point cloth of gold, it has at -least a metallic rigidity.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_369">369</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_75">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE HISTORIES</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> struggle of the Dutch for religious and political -liberty was to have been ‘only an episode’ in -Prescott’s <i>Philip the Second</i>. Motley’s broad treatment -of the theme requires nine octavo volumes. -<i>The Rise of the Dutch Republic</i> (in three volumes) -covers the time between the abdication of Charles -the Fifth and the murder of William of Orange. -The <i>History of the United Netherlands</i> (in four volumes) -takes up the narrative at the death of William -and carries it on to the end of the Twelve Years’ -Truce. <i>John of Barneveld</i>, is ‘the natural sequel’ -to the two preceding works, and ‘a necessary introduction’ -to the history of the Thirty Years’ War.</p> - -<p>These works from first to last are marked by -passionate admiration of the spirit which makes for -liberty. Admitting the turbulent character of that -spirit in the early history of the Netherlands, the -historian does not deplore it. Sedition and uproar -meant life. ‘Those violent little commonwealths -had blood in their veins! They were compact -of proud, self-helping muscular vigor.’ And to -Motley ‘the most sanguinary tumults which they -ever enacted in the face of day were better than -the order and silence born of the midnight darkness -of despotism.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_370">370</span></p> - -<p>The treatment then is strongly partisan. There -is a fervor in the account of the deeds and sufferings -of those patriots who thought no sacrifice too -great if thereby the sum total of human liberty -was increased.</p> - -<p>Motley does not pretend that the leaders in this -struggle were always disinterested. The motives -swaying humanity are wondrously complex. But -after all deductions are made, it was a struggle of -light against darkness, and with such a struggle it -was possible to sympathize unqualifiedly. There -are cool-blooded critics who view such an attitude -with disdain. This, they say, is not the temper in -which history should be written. History must be -calm, impartial, scientific. Perhaps the reasonable -reply is that history must be of many sorts and the -product of many types of mind; that one sort -never really excludes the other. Also it is well to -remember that a great historical master of our -time,<a id="FNanchor_50" href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">50</a> and one whose creed was by no means narrow, -pleaded always for this deep and passionate -motive in the work, and laughed at the modern -Oxford product which can balance questions but -is able to accomplish nothing.</p> - -<p>Motley’s historic canvas is crowded with figures. -The eye is at first drawn toward the personages, -the military, ecclesiastical, and princely chiefs, -William of Orange (who is Motley’s hero), Egmont, -Alva, and Granvelle; but the eye does not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_371">371</span> -rest on these alone. Surrounding them are the -multitudes of aspiring, suffering people becoming -more and more a preponderant force in the life of -the nation, refusing to be disposed of in the lump, -or driven about like a flock of sheep to be sheared -or slaughtered at the whim of a monarch.</p> - -<p>Here lies Motley’s sympathy. His indignation -flames out when misery is brought upon thousands, -by the caprice of kings or the selfishness of secular -and ecclesiastical politicians. Note his sarcasm on -the battle of Saint Quentin, a game in which ‘the -players were kings and the people were stakes—not -parties.’ Note his fine scorn of that type of -government ‘which was administered exclusively -for the benefit of the government.’ Note his -loathing for that type of vanity which presumes -to dictate how a man shall worship God. The -temper in which Motley writes is admirably epitomized -in the picture of Caraffa, as papal legate, -making his entry into Paris, showering blessings -upon the people, ‘while the friends who were nearest -him were aware that nothing but gibes and -sarcasms were falling from his lips.... It would -no doubt have increased the hilarity of Caraffa -... could the idea have been suggested to his -mind that the sentiments, or the welfare of the -people throughout the great states ... could -have any possible bearing upon the question of -peace or war. The world was governed by other -influences. The wiles of a cardinal—the arts<span class="pagenum" id="Page_372">372</span> -of a concubine—the speculations of a soldier of -fortune—the ill temper of a monk—the mutual -venom of Italian houses—above all, the perpetual -rivalry of the two great historical families -who owned the greater part of Europe between -them as their private property—such were the -wheels on which rolled the destiny of Christendom. -Compared to these, what were great moral -and political ideas, the plans of statesmen, the -hopes of nations? Time was to show.... Meanwhile -a petty war for petty motives was to precede -the great spectacle which was to prove to Europe -that principles and peoples still existed, and that -a phlegmatic nation of merchants and manufacturers -could defy the powers of the universe, and -risk all their blood and treasure, generation after -generation, in a sacred cause.’<a id="FNanchor_51" href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">51</a></p> - -<p>The historian is a hard hitter. The enemies of -liberty and their agents are not spared. Philip, -Granvelle, Alva, and a score besides are characterized -in withering terms. Of Philip, for example, -Motley says: ‘It is curious to observe the minute -reticulations of tyranny which he had begun already -to spin about a whole people, while cold, -venomous, and patient he watched his victims -from the center of his web.’ The historian is -fiery in denouncing the tortuous and Machiavellian -politics of the Sixteenth Century. It was an -age when honesty, plain speaking, and respect for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_373">373</span> -a promise had nothing to do with the conduct of -affairs of state. He who could lie most adroitly -was the best man. Granvelle fills his letters with -innuendoes against Egmont and Orange, all the -while protesting that he would not have a hair of -their heads injured. It is he, according to Motley, -who puts into Philip’s mind the thoughts he is to -think, almost in the words in which he is to utter -them. Philip had his own strength, but he was -slow to come to a conclusion. Granvelle knew -how to clarify that muddy stream of ideas.</p> - -<p>The preceding work shows the Dutch states -in the beginning and progress of their struggle -against the tyranny of Philip; the <i>United Netherlands</i> -shows Holland as a rising hope of Protestantism, -as a nation to be reckoned with in the -diplomacy of Europe.</p> - -<p>The Spanish king is still writing letters, still -concocting schemes for conquest, still enmeshing -friends and enemies alike in a web of falsehood. -He is drawn off for the moment from his mission -in the Netherlands to extend his conquests -elsewhere. These proposed conquests have exactly -one object—to enable the spirit of despotism -‘to maintain the old mastery of mankind.’ -‘Countries and nations being regarded as private -property to be inherited or bequeathed to a -few favored individuals, ... it had now become -right and proper for the Spanish monarch to -annex Scotland, England, and France to the very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_374">374</span> -considerable possessions which were already his -own.’</p> - -<p>A picturesque episode of the attempt upon England -was the Armada. To this enterprise Motley -gives one of his best and most thrilling chapters. -Equally fascinating is the account of the attempt -upon France, the battle of Ivry (when the white -plume of Henry of Navarre carried the hopes of -all liberal-minded men), and the terrible siege of -Paris which almost immediately followed. ‘Rarely -have men at any epoch defended their fatherland -against foreign oppression with more heroism -than that which was manifested by the Parisians -of 1590 in resisting religious toleration, and in -obeying a foreign and priestly despotism.’</p> - -<p>Perhaps there are not to be found in the historian’s -works more striking passages than those -in which are described the last days of Philip the -Second. To Philip’s fortitude, in agony as poignant -as any he had visited upon his miserable victims, -the historian gives unstinted praise. The account, -which rests upon documentary basis, presents an -accumulation of horrors from which a Zola or a -Flaubert might have learned a lesson. The king -died with a clear conscience, having upon his soul -the blood of uncounted numbers of human beings, -and providing in his will that ‘thirty thousand -masses should be said for his soul.’</p> - -<p>‘It seems like mere railing to specify his crimes,’ -says Motley. ‘The horrible monotony of his career<span class="pagenum" id="Page_375">375</span> -stupefies the mind until it is ready to accept the -principle of evil as the fundamental law of the -land.’ Motley’s conclusion is that Philip the Second -of Spain was Machiavelli’s greatest pupil.</p> - -<p>What remains of the book after Philip’s death -lacks neither literary interest nor historic value. -But we have something akin to the feeling which -comes over us when the chief character in a play -dies before the last act; we question for a moment -whether the interest will hold. That dominant and -sinister personality leaves a void which the exploits -of Prince Maurice hardly serve to fill. With these -exploits, however, and a discussion of the causes -leading to the Twelve Years’ Truce, Motley concluded -the <i>History of the United Netherlands</i>.</p> - -<p>In the last of his three great works, <i>John of -Barneveld</i>, Motley gave full expression to his generous -partisanship of all that seemed to him to -stand for the spirit of liberty. With a contempt -for the subtleties of theological speculation, the -historian was by instinct ‘Remonstrant,’ that is, -anti-Calvinistic, and found in Barneveld one of -his heroes. He has painted a wonderful picture -of the old advocate’s trial and death. Hounded -daily by twenty-four judges, many of them his -personal enemies, compelled to rely on his powerful -memory in reviewing the events and explaining the -acts of his forty-three years of public service, -denied books, denied counsel, denied a knowledge -in advance of the charges made against him, denied<span class="pagenum" id="Page_376">376</span> -access to the notes of his examination as it proceeded, -denied everything suggested by the words -‘law’ and ‘justice,’ Barneveld came out of the -ordeal so triumphantly that the announcement of -his sentence might well have moved him to say: -‘I am ready enough to die, but I cannot comprehend -why I am to die.’</p> - -<p>In characterization of men, in searching analysis -of causes and motives, in brilliant description, and -in manly eloquence, Motley’s <i>John of Barneveld</i> -equals its predecessors, while the note of passion -is if anything intensified by the bitter experiences -through which the historian had so recently passed.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>A fitting postlude to Motley’s work as a whole -may be found in the last sentence of the <i>United -Netherlands</i>. It makes clear the motives other -than scholarly and creative which led to the writing -of these splendid narratives. Says the historian: -‘If by his labors a generous love has been -fostered for that blessing, without which everything -that this earth can afford is worthless,—freedom -of thought, of speech, and of life,—his -highest wish has been fulfilled.’</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_46" href="#FNanchor_46" class="fnanchor">46</a> O. W. Holmes.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_47" href="#FNanchor_47" class="fnanchor">47</a> <i>Merry-Mount</i> is more readable than its predecessor. Such -characters as Sir Christopher Gardiner and his ‘cousin,’ Thomas -Morton with his hawks and his classical quotations, Esther Ludlow -and Maudsley, Walford the smith, Blaxton the hermit, together -with the human grotesques Peter Cakebread, Bootefish, -and Canary-Bird, repay one for the trouble he takes to make -their acquaintance.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_48" href="#FNanchor_48" class="fnanchor">48</a> For a defence of the part played by the Secretary of State in -this affair see John Bigelow’s paper entitled ‘Mr. Seward and Mr. -Motley,’ in the ‘International Review,’ July-August, 1878.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_49" href="#FNanchor_49" class="fnanchor">49</a> John Jay: ‘Motley’s Appeal to History,’ in the ‘International -Review’ for November-December, 1877.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_50" href="#FNanchor_50" class="fnanchor">50</a> J. R. Green.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_51" href="#FNanchor_51" class="fnanchor">51</a> <i>Dutch Republic</i>, i, 162.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_379">379</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_14" class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XIV">XIV<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>Francis Parkman</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>Edward Wheelwright</b>: ‘Memoir of Francis Parkman, -LL.D.,’ <i>Publications of the Colonial Society of Massachusetts</i>, -vol. i, 1895.</p> - -<p><b>C. H. Farnham</b>: <i>A Life of Francis Parkman</i>, 1901.</p> - -<p><b>H. D. Sedgwick</b>: <i>Francis Parkman</i>, ‘American Men of -Letters,’ 1904.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_76">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> Parkmans are descendants of Thomas -Parkman of Sidmouth, Devon, whose son -Elias settled in Dorchester, Massachusetts, in -1633. Francis Parkman was a son of the Reverend -Francis Parkman, pastor for thirty-six years of the -New North Church in Boston. Through his mother, -Caroline (Hall) Parkman, he was related to -the famous colonial minister, John Cotton. Two -of his maternal ancestors used to preach to the -Indians in their own tongue. Parkman’s deep interest -in the ‘aborigines’ may have been ‘partly -inherited from these Puritan ancestors.’ ‘It does -not appear, however, that he ever learned their -language, and it may be regarded as certain that -he never preached to them.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_380">380</span></p> - -<p>Born in Boston on September 16, 1823, Parkman -prepared for college at Chauncy Hall School -and was graduated at Harvard in 1844. During -his college course he ‘showed symptoms of Injuns -on the brain,’ as a classmate phrased it. In 1841 -he began those vacation wanderings which gave -him such an intimate acquaintance with the -American wilderness. Before taking his degree he -had planned a book on the conspiracy of Pontiac. -The year after graduation he visited Detroit and -other scenes of the historic drama, collected papers, -and, wherever it was possible, ‘interviewed descendants -of the actors.’</p> - -<p>At his father’s instance Parkman then entered -the Dane Law School at Cambridge and obtained -his degree (1846), but took no steps to be admitted -to the bar. He studied by himself history, -Indian ethnology, and ‘models of English style.’ -The passage in <i>Vassall Morton</i> describing the influence -of Thierry’s <i>Norman Conquest</i> in directing -the hero of the novel towards ethnological study, -is thought to be autobiographical.</p> - -<p>Having weakened his sight by immoderate -reading, Parkman (in 1846) made a journey to the -Northwest, ‘partly to cure his eyes and partly to -study Indian life.’ He was accompanied by his -friend Quincy Adams Shaw. For some weeks he -lived in a village of Ogillallah Indians, sharing the -tent of a chief and following the wanderings of -the tribe in their search for enemies and buffalo.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_381">381</span> -The hardships of the life ruined his health. His -sight was made worse rather than better, and his first -book, <i>The Oregon Trail</i> (1849), describing these -western experiences, had to be written from dictation.<a id="FNanchor_52" href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">52</a> -It was followed by <i>The Conspiracy of Pontiac</i> -(1851), and that by <i>Vassall Morton</i> (1856), an -attempt at fiction. This ends the initial period of -Parkman’s literary life.</p> - -<p>In 1850 Parkman married Catharine, a daughter -of Doctor Jacob Bigelow of Boston. She is said -to have been a woman of a sweet and joyful disposition, -having a keen sense of humor, and, above -all, endowed with ‘the high courage requisite to -tend unfalteringly the pain and suffering of the -man she loved.’<a id="FNanchor_53" href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">53</a> It was a perfect union, but -unhappily it was not to last long. Mrs. Parkman -died in 1858.</p> - -<p>The historian’s health steadily declined. For -years together his chief study was to keep himself -alive. As a part of this study he took up -floriculture, and soon found himself absorbed in -it for its own sake. He became famous for his -roses and lilies, and was the recipient of prizes -innumerable from horticultural societies.<a id="FNanchor_54" href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">54</a> Yet at -no time did he lose sight of his main object, the -history of France in North America. Little by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_382">382</span> -little his store of materials accumulated. Even -when he was at his worst physically, some progress -was made. It might be only a step, but the -step had not to be retraced.</p> - -<p>As his strength returned he began to travel. To -renew his acquaintance with the Indians he went -to Fort Snelling in 1867. He was repeatedly in -Paris consulting archives and doctors. He visited -Canada in 1873 and explored over and over again -the region between Quebec and Lake George.</p> - -<p>The great historical series to which its author -gave the title of <i>France and England in North -America</i> began to appear just at the close of the -Civil War. The volumes in the order of their -publication are: <i>The Pioneers of France in the -New World</i>, 1865; <i>The Jesuits in North America</i>, -1867; <i>The Discovery of the Great West</i>, 1869;<a id="FNanchor_55" href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">55</a> -<i>The Old Régime</i>, 1874; <i>Count Frontenac and New -France under Louis XIV</i>, 1877; <i>Montcalm and -Wolfe</i>, 1884; <i>A Half-Century of Conflict</i>, 1892.</p> - -<p>The merits of this extraordinary series were -recognized at once as many and varied. It is a -question to which of three types of reader the -books most appealed,—the scholar, who is bound -to read critically whether he will or no, the utilitarian -in search of facts chiefly, or the mere lover -of literature. Each found what he was seeking -in these narratives, and each paid homage to the -author in his own way.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_383">383</span></p> - -<p>As is often true of historians far less notable -than he, Parkman was the recipient of academic -honors, and was made a member of numerous -historical societies. The mere catalogue of these -distinctions fills a page of printed text. His membership -of the Massachusetts Historical Society -and his degree of LL. D. from Harvard College -(1889) will serve as illustrations. Parkman was -influential in helping to found the Archæological -Institute of America. He was one of the founders -of the St. Botolph Club in Boston, and its president -during the first six years of its existence.</p> - -<p>The history of France and England in North -America was completed the year before he died. -Had time and strength been allowed him, he -would have recast the material in the form of -a continuous narrative. There might have been a -gain in the new arrangement, as on the other hand -there might have been a loss.</p> - -<p>Parkman died at his home at Jamaica Plain, -near Boston, on November 8, 1893.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_77">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">PARKMAN’S CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Parkman</span> had prodigious will power and unequalled -pertinacity. No barrier to the accomplishment -of his object was allowed to stand in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_384">384</span> -the way. He was beset by the demons of ill -health, and their number was legion. Unable to -rout them by impetuous onslaught, he tired them -out, thinning their ranks, one by one. He was -infinitely patient, full of devices for outwitting the -enemy. Beaten again and again, he stubbornly -renewed the fight. Threatened with blindness, -he set himself to avoid it, and did. Threatened -with insanity, he declined to become insane.</p> - -<p>Nothing could be more admirable than the -spirit in which he faced daily torment. He was -that extraordinary being, a cheerful stoic. Four -times in his life it was a question whether he would -live or die. Parkman admitted that once, had he -been seeking merely his comfort, he would have -elected to die. That must have been the time -when, in response to his physician’s encouraging -remark that he had a strong constitution, Parkman -said: ‘I’m afraid I have.’ In ordinary conditions -of ill health he was bright, cheery, philosophical, -but when he suffered most he was silent. At no -time was he capable of complaining.</p> - -<p>Parkman loved to face the hard facts of life and -was apt to admire others in the degree in which -they showed a like spirit. He had a sovereign -contempt for everything not manly and robust. -He contradicted with amusing emphasis the statement -in some biographical notice that he was -‘feeble.’ By his philosophy the militant attitude -toward life was the true one. He believed in war<span class="pagenum" id="Page_385">385</span> -as a moral force; it made for character both in the -man and in the nation. ‘The severest disappointment -of his life was his inability to enter the army -during our civil war.’</p> - -<p>He was wholly free from certain narrow traits -which are too apt to be engendered in a life devoted -to books and authorship. Manly, open-hearted, -unspoiled, he neither craved honors nor -despised them. It has been remarked that while -he was gratified by the recognition accorded his -work in high places, he was equally pleased with -a letter from ‘a live boy’ who wrote to tell him -how much he had enjoyed reading about Pontiac -and La Salle. He himself kept to the last a certain -boyish frankness of mind and heart. The -year before he died he wrote to the secretary of -the class of ’44: ‘Please give my kind regrets and -remembrances to the fellows.’</p> - -<p>There have been not a few attractive personalities -in the history of American letters. Parkman -was one of the most attractive among them.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_78">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE WRITER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> style is clear and luminous. Short sentences -abound, giving the effect of rapidity. The mind -of the reader never halts because of an obscure<span class="pagenum" id="Page_386">386</span> -term or some intricacy of structure. Neither is -the page spotted with long words ending in <i>tion</i>, -and which coming in groups, as they do in Bancroft, -are like grit in the teeth. Parkman did not -attain the exquisite grace and composure which -characterize Irving’s prose, but he came nearer to -it than did Prescott. The historian of Ferdinand -and Isabella had a self-conscious style. Agreeable -as it is, it reveals a man always on guard as he -writes. In his most eloquent passages Prescott is -formal, precise, even stiff.</p> - -<p>Parkman’s style is wholly engaging. There is -a captivating manner about it, the result of his -immense enthusiasm for his theme. Infinitely laborious -in the preparation, sceptical in use of authorities, -temperate in judgment, when, however, -it comes to telling the story, he allows his genius -for narration a free rein, and the style, though -losing none of its dignity, is eager and almost impetuous. -The historian speaks as an eye-witness -of all he describes.</p> - -<p>This explains Parkman’s popularity in large -degree. Fascinating as the subject is, the manner -adds a hundred fold. He who reads Bancroft gets -a deal of information, for which he pays a round -price. He who reads Parkman gets facts, eloquence, -philosophy, besides no end of adventure, -and for all this he pays literally nothing.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_387">387</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_79">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead">EARLY WORK</span> - -<span class="subhead"><i>OREGON TRAIL</i>, <i>CONSPIRACY OF PONTIAC</i>, -<i>VASSALL MORTON</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><i>The Oregon Trail</i> ranks high among books which, -though sometimes written for quite another purpose, -are read chiefly for entertainment. Such was -<i>Two Years before the Mast</i>, such was <i>The Bible in -Spain</i>, that skilful work of a most accomplished -poseur.</p> - -<p>In addition to its value as literature, <i>The Oregon -Trail</i> is a trustworthy account of a no longer -existent state of society. It is a document. The -range of experience was narrow, and the adventures -few, but so far as it goes the record is perfect; -and when read in connection with his historical -work, the book becomes a commentary on Parkman’s -method. Here is shown how he got that -knowledge of Indian life and character which distinguishes -his work from that of other historical -writers who touch the same field. The knowledge -was utilized at once in his next work.</p> - -<p><i>The Conspiracy of Pontiac</i> is the sort of book -people praise by saying that it is as readable as a -novel. The comparison is unfortunate. So many -novels are disciplinary rather than amusing. One<span class="pagenum" id="Page_388">388</span> -wishes it were possible to say of them that they -are as readable as history.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless it is quite true that the virtues -supposed to inhere chiefly in a work of fiction -are conspicuous in this the first of Parkman’s -historical studies. <i>The Conspiracy of Pontiac</i> is a -story, filled with incident and abounding in illustrations -of courage, craft, endurance, stubbornness, -self-sacrifice, despair, triumph. The plain truth -shames invention. Pontiac lives in these pages -describing his towering ambition. So do the other -actors,—Rogers, Gladwyn, Campbell, Catharine -the Ojibwa girl. The supernumeraries are strikingly -picturesque,—Canadian settlers, trappers, -coureurs des bois, priests, half-breeds, and Indians, -the motley denizens of frontier and wilderness. -A forest drama played by actors like these is bound -to be absorbing were it only as a spectacle.</p> - -<p>One fact becomes apparent on taking up this -book. History as Parkman writes it is both dramatic -and graphical, filled with action and movement, -filled with color, form, and beauty. With -such an eye for effect it is impossible for him to -be dull. Open the volume at random and the -wealth of the author’s observations seems to have -been showered on that page. But the next page -is like it, and also the next.</p> - -<p>The vivacity of youth explains much in this -narrative. Parkman was but twenty-six when he -wrote <i>The Conspiracy of Pontiac</i>. Being young, he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_389">389</span> -was not afraid to be eloquent, to revel in descriptions -of sunrise and sunset, tempests, the coming -of spring, the brilliant hues of autumn foliage, -the soft haze of Indian summer. His chapters -are richly enamelled with these glowing pieces -of rhetoric. He is no less brilliant in his martial -scenes; the accounts of the Battle of Bloody -Bridge and of Bouquet’s fight in the forest are -extraordinarily well done.</p> - -<p>The historian is severe on writers who have -idealized the Indian. Here is one of Parkman’s -own characterizations: ‘The stern, unchanging -features of his mind excite our admiration from -their very immutability; and we look with deep -interest on the fate of this irreclaimable son of -the wilderness, the child who will not be weaned -from the breast of his rugged mother. And our -interest increases when we discern in the unhappy -wanderer, mingled among his vices, the -germs of heroic virtues,—a hand bountiful to -bestow, as it is rapacious to seize, and, even in -extremest famine, imparting its last morsel to a -fellow sufferer; a heart which, strong in friendship -as in hate, thinks it not too much to lay -down life for its chosen comrade; a soul true -to its own idea of honor, and burning with an -unquenchable thirst for greatness and renown.’ -Neither poet nor novelist really needs to embroider -such an account of the Red Man.</p> - -<p>This successful historic monograph was followed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_390">390</span> -by an unsuccessful novel, written, it is thought, -for recreation. Without being an autobiography, -<i>Vassall Morton</i> abounds in autobiographical passages. -Its failure was not of the kind that proves -inability ever to master the art of fiction. The -loss to American letters however would have been -incalculable had Parkman’s genius for historical -narrative been sacrificed in any degree to novel -writing. And this might have happened had -<i>Vassall Morton</i> been a success.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_80">V<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>FRANCE AND ENGLAND IN NORTH -AMERICA</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> history of France in North America abounds -in everything appealing to the love of the heroic. -Parkman writes in a spirit of frank and contagious -admiration. Himself of Puritan blood and appreciative -of the best in Puritan character, he makes -the pale narratives of the contentious little English -republics seem colorless indeed when laid beside -his glowing pages. The great warriors, the brave -and fanatical priests, the adventurous rangers, and -the iron-hearted explorers of New France were -born to be wondered at and extolled. Without -assuming that these men had a monopoly of virtue, -Parkman scatters praise with a free hand.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_391">391</span></p> - -<p>The germ of this massive and beautiful work -is contained in the introductory chapters of <i>Pontiac</i>. -Here is outlined the history of French exploration, -religious propagandism, and military conquest or -defeat up to the fall of Quebec.</p> - -<p>The first three narratives (<i>The Pioneers of -France</i>, <i>The Jesuits</i>, and <i>La Salle</i>) cover the period -of inception. They abound in illustrations of -heroism, self-sacrifice, and missionary fervor. The -last three volumes (<i>Count Frontenac</i>, <i>A Half-Century -of Conflict</i>, and <i>Montcalm and Wolfe</i>) describe -the struggle of rival powers for supremacy. They -are characterized mainly by illustrations of commercial -greed, ecclesiastical jealousy, personal and -political ambition. Midway in the series and related -alike to what precedes and what follows is -the fascinating volume, <i>The Old Régime in Canada</i>.</p> - -<p>The title of the initial volume, <i>The Pioneers of -France in the New World</i>, exactly describes it. The -‘Pioneers’ are the Basque, the Norman, and the -Breton sailors who, from an almost unrecorded -past, crossed the sea yearly to fish on the banks -of Newfoundland. They are Jacques Cartier of -St. Malo, who first explored the St. Lawrence, -Roberval, La Roche, and De Monts. Men of -their time, they were both devout and unscrupulous. -Among them and their followers were grim -humorists. When, after the arrival of De Monts’s -company in Acadia, a priest and a Huguenot minister -died at the same time, the crew buried them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_392">392</span> -in one grave ‘to see if they would lie peaceably -together.’</p> - -<p>Chief among the great names of this period is -that of Samuel Champlain, the ‘life’ of New -France, who united in himself ‘the crusader, the -romance-loving explorer, the curious, knowledge-seeking -traveller, the practical navigator.’ Such -a man has a breadth of vision and strength of -purpose in comparison with which the sight of -common men is blindness and their strength infirmity.</p> - -<p>The second narrative in the series, <i>The Jesuits -in North America</i>, is an amazing record of courage, -fanaticism, indomitable will, perseverance, and -martyrdom. The book contains the gist of the -famous <i>Jesuit Relations</i>. A man may be forgiven -for not wearying himself with the tediousness of -those good fathers who were often as long-winded -as they were brave. But he is inexcusable if he -has not learned to admire them through Parkman’s -thrilling account of their physical sufferings -and spiritual triumphs. Those giants of devotion, -Brébeuf, Lalemant, Garnier, and Jogues, seem both -human and superhuman as they move across the -stage of history.</p> - -<p>In <i>La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West</i> -we have a story of zeal of another sort. La Salle -is a pathetic figure. Yet to pity him were to offer -insult. He stood apart from his fellows, misunderstood -and maligned, but self-centred and self-sufficient.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_393">393</span> -His contemporaries thought him crack-brained; -suffering had turned his head. They -mocked his schemes and denied the truth of the -discoveries to which he laid claim. His history is -one of pure disaster. But no one of Parkman’s -heroes awakens greater sympathy than this silent -man who found in the pursuit of honor compensation -enough for incredible fatigues and sacrifices.</p> - -<p><i>The Old Régime in Canada</i> treats of the contest -between the feudal chiefs of Acadia, La Tour and -D’Aunay, of the mission among the Iroquois, of -the career of that imperious churchman Laval, and -then, in a hundred and fifty brilliant pages, of -Canadian civilization in the Seventeenth Century. -This section is a model of instructive and stimulating -writing, grateful alike to the student of -manners and to the amateur of literary delights.</p> - -<p>The last volume shows the construction of the -‘political and social machine.’ The next, <i>Count -Frontenac and New France</i>, shows the ‘machine -in action.’ The period covered is from 1672 to -1698. Frontenac’s collision with the order which -controlled the spiritual destinies of New France -led to his recall in 1682. La Barre, who succeeded -Frontenac, was a failure. Denonville, the next governor, -could live amicably with the Jesuits, but -religious fervor proved no substitute for tact in -dealing with the savages. There was need of a -man who could handle both Jesuits and Indians.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_394">394</span> -At seventy years of age Frontenac returned to -prop the tottering fortunes of New France. One -learns to like the irascible old governor who was -vastly jealous of his dignity, but who, when the -need was, could take a tomahawk and dance a -war-dance to the great admiration of the Indians -and to the political benefit of New France.</p> - -<p>The story of the struggle for supremacy is continued -in <i>A Half-Century of Conflict</i>.<a id="FNanchor_56" href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">56</a> That phase -of the record relating to the border forays is almost -monotonous in its unvarying details of ambuscade, -murder, the torture-stake, and captivity. -The French and their Indian allies descended on -the outlying settlements of New England with -fire, sword, and tomahawk. Deerfield was sacked, -and the country harried far and wide.</p> - -<p>In the mean time French explorers were advancing -west and south. Some, in their eagerness to -anticipate the English, established posts in Louisiana. -Others, with a courage peculiar to the time -rather than to any one race, pushed beyond the -Missouri to Colorado and New Mexico, to Dakota -and Montana, led on by mixed motives such as -personal ambition, love of gain, patriotism.</p> - -<p>A spectacular event of the period was the siege -and capture of Louisbourg by a force largely composed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_395">395</span> -of New England farmers and fishermen. -The project was conceived in audacity and carried -out with astonishing dash and good humor. -That was singular military enterprise which in the -mind of an eye-witness bore some resemblance to -a ‘Cambridge Commencement.’ ‘While the cannon -bellowed in the front,’ says Parkman, ‘frolic -and confusion reigned at the camp, where the -men raced, wrestled, pitched quoits, and ... -ran after French cannon balls, which were carried -to the batteries to be returned to those who sent -them.’</p> - -<p>The volumes entitled <i>Montcalm and Wolfe</i> crown -the work. With stores of erudition, a finely tempered -judgment, a practised pen, and taste refined -by thirty years’ search for the manliest and most -becoming forms of expression, Parkman gave himself -to the writing of this his masterpiece. The -work is the longest as well as the best of the seven -parts. Every page, from the account of Céloron -de Bienville’s journey to the Ohio to the story of -the fall of Quebec, is crowded with fact, suggestion, -eloquence. The texture of the narrative is close -knit. The early volumes are often disjointed. -They resemble groups of essays. Chapters are so -completely a unit that they might be read by -themselves with little regard to what preceded or -what was to follow. Not so the <i>Montcalm and -Wolfe</i>, which is a perfectly homogeneous piece of -work.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_396">396</span></p> - -<p>This series of narratives has extraordinary -merits. Let us note a few of them.</p> - -<p>Among Parkman’s virtues as a historian are -clarity of view, a singularly unbiased attitude, an -eye for the picturesque which never fails to seize -on the essentials of form, color, and grouping, extraordinary -power of condensation, a firm grasp -of details, together with the ability to subordinate -all details to the main purpose. But other historians -have had these same virtues; we must find -something more distinctive.</p> - -<p>History as Parkman conceived it cannot be -based on books and documents alone. The historian -must identify himself with the men of the -past, live their life, think their thoughts, place -himself so far as possible at their point of view. -Since he cannot talk with them, he must at least -talk with their descendants. But the nature of -the ‘habitant’ cannot be studied in the latitude -of Boston, it must be studied on the St. Lawrence. -A city covers the site of ancient Hochelaga, nevertheless -the historian must go there, and under the -same sky, with many features of the landscape -unchanged, reconstruct Hochelaga as it was when -Jacques Cartier’s eyes rested upon it in 1535. This -indicates Parkman’s method. When he visited a -battle-field it was not as one who aimed at mere -mathematical correctness of description, but as an -artist whose imagination took fire at the sight -of a historic spot, and who had there a vision of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_397">397</span> -the past such as would not come to him in his -library.</p> - -<p>Would we see Parkman in a characteristic rôle -we should not go to his literary workshop, but for -example to the little town of Utica, Illinois. There -one summer night, sitting on the porch of the -hotel, Parkman described to a group of farmers -gathered about, the location of La Salle’s fort and -of the great Indian town. The description was -based on what he had learned from books ‘nearly -two hundred years old.’ His improvised audience -gave hearty assent to its accuracy. Parkman was -there to obtain accuracy of another sort. The next -day he visited all the localities which formed the -background of the historic drama and reconstructed -the life of the time. This is but one instance -among hundreds which might be brought forward -to show the pains he took. Herein lay the distinctive -feature of his method. He used imagination -not to embroider the facts of history, but to -give to dead facts a new life. A faculty of the mind -which is supposed to vitiate history becomes in -Parkman’s hands a means for arriving at truth.</p> - -<p>Parkman was a fortunate man. He was happy -in his choice of a subject. The theme was a great -one, worthy the pen of so profound a scholar and -so gifted a literary artist. To this theme he gave -his life, working with singleness of purpose and -under incredible difficulties. No trace of this suffering -can be detected in the temper of his judgments,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_398">398</span> -or in the even flow and bright radiance -of his narrative. He was not only happy in his -mastery of his subject, he was most happy in his -mastery of himself. Parkman’s life is a reproach -to the man who, working amid normal conditions -of health and fortune, permits himself to complain -that there are difficulties in his way.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_52" href="#FNanchor_52" class="fnanchor">52</a> <i>The Oregon Trail</i> was first published serially in ‘The -Knickerbocker Magazine.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_53" href="#FNanchor_53" class="fnanchor">53</a> Sedgwick’s <i>Parkman</i>, p. 217.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_54" href="#FNanchor_54" class="fnanchor">54</a> His <i>Book of the Roses</i> was published in 1866.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_55" href="#FNanchor_55" class="fnanchor">55</a> Later renamed <i>La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_56" href="#FNanchor_56" class="fnanchor">56</a> <i>A Half-Century of Conflict</i> was not published until after the -<i>Montcalm and Wolfe</i>. The historian became fearful lest some -accident should prevent his completing the part of his narrative -towards which all his study had tended.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_401">401</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_15" class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XV">XV<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>Bayard Taylor</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>Marie Hansen-Taylor and H. E. Scudder</b>: <i>Life -and Letters of Bayard Taylor</i>, 1884.</p> - -<p><b>A. H. Smyth</b>: <i>Bayard Taylor</i>, ‘American Men of Letters’ -[1896].</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_81">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap b"><span class="smcap1">Bayard Taylor</span> in 1841, when he was sixteen, -contributed to the Philadelphia ‘Saturday -Evening Post’ the verses entitled ‘Soliloquy of -a Young Poet.’ In 1878, the year of his death, he -was still planning new literary enterprises, and in -so far as declining health permitted, carrying them -out. If unwearied devotion through nearly forty -years to the literary life, great fecundity in production, -much taste, no little scholarship, and unquestioned -sincerity in the exercise of his art entitle -one to be called by the honorable name of man of -letters, who is more deserving than the author of -<i>The Masque of the Gods</i>? To be sure, only a few -of his many books are read. But Taylor is in no -worse case than many men who tower giant-fashion -above him. They likewise have written forty volumes -and are known and measured by two or three.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_402">402</span></p> - -<p>Taylor was partly of German, partly of English -Quaker stock, and could boast an ancestor (Robert -Taylor) who had come to America with William -Penn. The fourth of the ten children of Joseph -and Rebecca (Way) Taylor, he was born at Kennett -Square, Pennsylvania, on January 11, 1825. -His education was got at the neighboring academies -of Westchester and Unionville. He was a -rhymester at the age of seven, and had become an -industrious writer by the time he was twelve.</p> - -<p>Having no inclination towards school-teaching -and still less towards his father’s vocation, farming, -Taylor was apprenticed to a printer. He was presently -seized with a passion for travel, and in 1844, -with one hundred and forty dollars in his pocket, -payment in advance for certain letters he was to -write for Philadelphia journals, he set out on a pedestrian -tour of Europe. He had a few remittances -from home. Greeley promised to print some of his -letters provided they were ‘not descriptive’ and -that before writing them the young traveller made -sure that he had been in Europe ‘long enough to -know something.’ Seventeen of Taylor’s letters -appeared in the ‘Tribune.’</p> - -<p>By rigid economy Taylor managed to get on. -But one must have youth to endure the hardships -of such a journey. Especially must one have youth -if he proposes, as Taylor did, to walk from Marseilles -to Paris in the cold winter rains. The history -of these two years of wandering is recounted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_403">403</span> -in <i>Views Afoot, or Europe seen with Knapsack and -Staff</i> (1846).</p> - -<p>Taylor returned to America and took up journalism. -Failing in an attempt to make of the ‘Phœnixville -Pioneer’ a paper according to his ideal, -he went to New York (December, 1847). After -various experiences he secured a place on the ‘Tribune,’ -was rapidly advanced, and became in time -a stockholder. He was sent to California to report -on the gold discoveries. This journey furnished -him with the matter for his second book of travel, -<i>El Dorado, or Adventures in the Path of Empire</i> -(1850).</p> - -<p>His whole subsequent career is but a variation -on the themes of 1846 and 1850. He went -everywhere,—to Egypt, Palestine, Syria, Asia -Minor (1851–52); to Spain and India, then on to -China, where he joined Perry’s expedition to Japan -(1853). He was in Germany, Norway, and Lapland -in 1856, in Greece in 1857–58, in Russia in -1862–63 (where for a while he held the post of -secretary of legation), in Switzerland, the Pyrenees, -and Corsica in 1868, and in Egypt and Iceland in -the same year (1874).</p> - -<p>All his adventures were transmuted into books: -<i>A Journey to Central Africa</i>, 1854; <i>The Lands of -the Saracen</i>, 1854; <i>A Visit to India, China, and -Japan in the Year 1853</i>, 1855; <i>Northern Travel</i>, -1857; <i>Travels in Greece and Russia</i>, 1859; <i>At -Home and Abroad</i>, 1859; <i>At Home and Abroad</i>,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_404">404</span> -‘second series,’ 1862; <i>Colorado</i>, 1867; <i>By-Ways -of Europe</i>, 1869; <i>Egypt and Iceland</i>, 1874.</p> - -<p>A part of the great success of these books was -due to causes far from literature. Doubtless, if -written to-day, the volumes would be read, but it -were idle to suppose that they could have the -vogue they enjoyed in the Fifties. The American -public of a half-century ago was not nomadic. It -had few ways of gratifying its thirst for knowledge -of foreign lands. Photographs were so expensive -that one seldom ran the risk of being obliged to -sit down with a friend ‘just back from Europe’ to -admire such novelties as the Leaning Tower and -the Bridge of Sighs. The oxyhydrogen stereopticon -was imperfect, the panorama clumsy and ill-painted. -Therefore the writings of a man who had -the knack of telling agreeably what he had seen -were most welcome. The home-keeping public -enjoyed also hearing the traveller talk. When -Taylor lectured (for he became one of the most -popular lecturers of the day) they crowded the hall -and thought two hours of him not long enough.</p> - -<p>Timeliness, however, does not explain all the -success of <i>Views Afoot</i> and its companion volumes. -Taylor was an excellent writer even when -he wrote most hastily. If his word-pictures were -often highly colored, they possessed, among other -virtues, the great virtue of having been painted -on the spot. Through their aid one could really -see what Taylor had himself seen.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_405">405</span></p> - -<p>But Taylor was a poet before he was a traveller. -In 1844 he published (under the patronage -of R. W. Griswold, his first literary adviser) a -little volume entitled <i>Ximena, or, The Battle of the -Sierra Morena, and Other Poems</i>. It was followed -by <i>Rhymes of Travel</i> (1848) and <i>The American -Legend</i>, the Phi Beta Kappa poem at Harvard -(1850). To these must be added <i>A Book of Romances, -Lyrics, and Songs</i>, 1851; <i>Poems and Ballads</i>, -1854; <i>Poems of the Orient</i>, 1854; <i>Poems of Home -and Travel</i>, 1855; <i>The Poet’s Journal</i>, 1862; -<i>The Picture of St. John</i>, 1866; <i>The Masque of -the Gods</i>, 1872; <i>Lars</i>, 1873; <i>The Prophet</i>, 1874; -<i>Home Pastorals, Ballads, and Lyrics</i>, 1875; <i>The -National Ode</i> (read by the author at the opening -of the ‘Centennial’), 1876; and <i>Prince Deukalion</i>, -1878. The great translation of Goethe’s <i>Faust</i>, -with the commentary, appeared in 1870–71.</p> - -<p>Not content with his commercial success as a -writer of travels, and his artistic triumphs in -poetry, Taylor tried fiction. The first of his four -novels, <i>Hannah Thurston</i> (1863), is in part a satire -and shows in their most disagreeable light the -people who abhor meat and swear by vegetables, -the people who profess to hold communication -with spirits, the people who think other people -ought not to buy and sell human flesh, and so -forth.</p> - -<p><i>John Godfrey’s Fortunes</i> (1864) embodies not a -few of Taylor’s journalistic experiences in New<span class="pagenum" id="Page_406">406</span> -York. Here are glimpses of literary society such -as the soirées at the home of Estelle Ann Lewis, -the Mademoiselle de Scudéry of that time and -place. <i>The Story of Kennett</i> (1866) is a Pennsylvanian -study, a true and lively picture of a phase -of civilization which the author perfectly understood. -<i>Joseph and his Friend</i> (1870) closed the -series of efforts by which Taylor tried to earn -money enough to free him from the thraldom of -the lecture platform.</p> - -<p>His other publications were <i>Beauty and the -Beast, and Tales of Home</i> (1872), <i>The Echo Club</i> -(1876), the posthumous <i>Studies in German Literature</i> -(1879), and <i>Essays and Studies</i> (1880).</p> - -<p>Of Taylor’s private life a few important facts -remain to be recorded. The pathetic story of -Mary Agnew, the beautiful girl whom he had -loved since they were school-children together, -and whom he married on her death-bed, is a -romance which fortunately has been well told by -both of Taylor’s biographers. In 1857 (seven -years after Mary Agnew’s death) Taylor married -Marie Hansen, daughter of Professor Hansen of -Gotha, the astronomer. How devoted and helpful -she was to him during his arduous life, and -how loyal to his memory, are facts too well -known to require emphasis.</p> - -<p>The home at Kennett known as ‘Cedarcroft’ -was built in 1859–60. Taylor lavished on it both -money and affection; and while for a few years it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_407">407</span> -gave him a deal of happiness, it proved in the end -a burden he could ill afford to carry.</p> - -<p>Robust and vigorous though he seemed in -middle life, Taylor by unremitting activity had -sapped his powers. He gave no evidence of declining -literary ambition, but at fifty he was worn -out by overwork. A notable recognition of his -worth came to him in 1878, when President -Hayes appointed him Minister to Germany. He -was not to enjoy the honor for long. In May, -1878, he took up the duties of his office, and on -the fifteenth of the following December he died -while sitting in his armchair in his library.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_82">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Ambition</span> was a ruling motive in Taylor’s life. -Yet there has seldom been an ambition which, albeit -as consuming as fire, was at the same time so -free from selfish and ignoble elements.</p> - -<p>Taylor aspired to fame through cultivation of -the art of poesy. This was the real object of his -life. To gain this object he toiled unceasingly and -made innumerable sacrifices. Baffled in the attempt -to reach his ideal, he was a little comforted when -he could persuade himself that he had not fallen -completely short of it. And there was exceeding<span class="pagenum" id="Page_408">408</span> -great reward in the knowledge that if wide recognition -as a poet was denied him, his friends, Whittier, -Longfellow, Stoddard, Boker, and Aldrich, -knew for what he was striving and commended him -in no uncertain tones.</p> - -<p>Whittier described Taylor as one who loved -‘old friends, old ways, and kept his boyhood’s -dreams in sight.’ Life was intensely interesting to -Taylor. Although the zest of travel disappeared -and his large experience of the ways of men had had -its customary disillusioning effect, he never really -lost his youthful enthusiasm. And it is touching -to find in his private correspondence the repeated -proofs of how inexhaustible was his fund of hope -and of courage, and how quick he was to recover -after real or fancied defeat.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding his successes, and he had his -share of the good things of life,—contemporary -reputation, money of his own earning, and friends,—Bayard -Taylor remains, with all his manly -qualities, a somewhat pathetic figure in American -letters. He led a restless and turbulent mental -existence, and died the victim of ambition and overwork.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_409">409</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_83">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE ARTIST</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Taylor</span> has been pronounced the most skilful of -our metrists after Longfellow. One illustration -only can be given of his interest in the mechanism -of verse, and that is his poetic romance <i>The Picture -of St. John</i>. The poem was not published until -sixteen years after its first conception. Possibly -its growth was a little retarded by the structural -peculiarities.</p> - -<p>The poem contains three hundred and fifty-five -eight-line stanzas (iambic pentameter) grouped -into four books. The ‘ottava rima’ was chosen -as ‘better adapted for the purposes of a romantic -epic than either the Spenserian stanza<a id="FNanchor_57" href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">57</a> or the -heroic couplet.’ But the question with the poet -was,—how to avoid the ‘uniform sweetness’ of a -regular stanza while obtaining the ‘proper compactness -and strength of rhythm’ which (in his -belief) only a stanza could give. His device was to -allow himself freedom of rhyme within the stanza, -and this ‘not to escape the laws which Poetry imposes,’ -but rather to impose a different law in the -hope that the form would ‘more readily reflect the -varying moods.’ When finally the poem was finished<span class="pagenum" id="Page_410">410</span> -Taylor found that the three hundred and -fifty-five stanzas contained ‘more than seventy -variations in the order of rhyme.’</p> - -<p>Only an enthusiast in the study of form would -have undertaken the task of reproducing <i>Faust</i> in -the original metres. Taylor’s success was so great -that his work as a translator has obscured his fame -as a poet. Doubtless so nearly perfect a version -had been impossible without that wonderful grasp -of the spirit of the original. But it must not be -forgotten how much it owes to the years of study -and practice Taylor gave to the technique of his -art.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_84">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead">POETICAL WORK</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">In</span> 1855 Taylor published a selection from his -earlier books of verse under the title <i>Poems of -Home and Travel</i>. By this volume and its companion, -<i>Poems of the Orient</i>, he wished, so he said -at the time, to be judged. For all his other pieces -he desired ‘speedy forgetfulness.’</p> - -<p><i>Poems of Home and Travel</i> shows very well the -range of Taylor’s art. Here are rhymed stories -(‘The Soldier and the Pard’ and ‘Kubleh’), -graceful settings of classic or Indian legend (‘Hylas’ -and ‘Mon-da-Min’), together with a pretty -fancy from Shakespeare (‘Ariel in the Cloven<span class="pagenum" id="Page_411">411</span> -Pine’). A deeper chord is struck in poems of -human love and loss (‘The Two Visions’) and in -poems expressing aspiration for the ideal (‘Love -and Solitude’), or in those which voice the -poet’s joy in a life of action and struggle (‘The -Life of Earth’ and ‘Taurus’). There is an ode, -‘The Harp,’ lamenting the silence of song in our -America where there is so much to sing. And -there are yet other odes, songs, and sonnets.</p> - -<p><i>Poems of the Orient</i> is a typical volume, full of -color, warmth, light, breathing the intoxication and -glowing with the fantasy of that great vague region -we call ‘the East.’ The charm of the verses is very -pronounced. How much of what we relish in the -volume is really the spirit of the East can best -be told by one who knows both the East and -the poems. Oriental lyrics and romances would be -written otherwise to-day. Taylor was partly under -the thrall of that roseate view of the Orient held -by Thomas Moore and his contemporaries. Sir -Richard Burton has popularized a more realistic -conception in which love and roses are less prominent. -The flavor of <i>Poems of the Orient</i> may be -known by such pieces as ‘The Temptation of -Hassan Ben Khaled,’ ‘Amran’s Wooing’ (an -Oriental version of young Lochinvar), ‘El Khalil,’ -‘Desert Hymn to the Sun,’ and the popular -‘Bedouin Song.’</p> - -<p><i>The Poet’s Journal</i>, a group of twenty-nine lyrics -connected by a poetic narrative and divided into<span class="pagenum" id="Page_412">412</span> -First, Second, and Third Evenings, is plainly autobiographical. -Its varying moods of despair and -dumb grief, followed by the stirrings of hope and -ambition, and, under the influence of awakened -love, the triumph of the spirit to will and to do, -connect it with the most intimate passages in -Taylor’s life.</p> - -<p><i>The Picture of St. John</i>, an Italian romance, -seems made for a popularity it somehow never -attained. The worldly ambition of the artist transfigured -by love, the death of the highborn girl -who sacrifices wealth and pride of place for her -lover, the unwitting murder of her child by his -grandsire, and the redemption of the artist after -months of conflict with the Power that Denies—these -are elements in a work on which the poet -lavished the best of his gifts.</p> - -<p><i>Lars</i>, a Scandinavian study, an idyl of the vales -and fiords of Norway, illustrates Taylor’s cosmopolitanism. -Passionately as he loved the South, he -could also exclaim with Ruth,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent30">I do confess</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I love Old Norway’s bleak, tremendous hills,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Where winter sits, and sees the summer burn</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In valleys deeper than yon cloud is high:</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I love the frank, brave habit of the folk,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The hearts unspoiled, though fed from ruder times</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And filled with angry blood.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><i>Home Pastorals, Ballads, and Lyrics</i> contains -his fine studies of Westchester County life, ‘The -Quaker Widow,’ ‘John Reed,’ and ‘The Old<span class="pagenum" id="Page_413">413</span> -Pennsylvania Farmer,’ together with such happily -conceived poems as ‘The Sunshine of the -Gods,’ ‘Notus Ignoto,’ ‘Iris,’ ‘Implora Pace,’ -and ‘Canopus,’ with its richly colored lines.</p> - -<p>Taylor wrote three dramatic poems, none of -which his critics are willing to admit is a success. -<i>The Masque of the Gods</i>, a lofty conception, fails -(if indeed it is a failure), not through feebleness -of touch, but through brevity. So vast a design -needs room to expand. As it stands, the <i>Masque</i> -is a preliminary sketch of what might have become -in the hands of its creator a great canvas. -It is something that the poet has succeeded in -awakening pity for the worn-out deities terrified -because of their loss of power, terrified even more -by the possibility that they have no principle of -life and are only the creatures of men’s brains.</p> - -<p><i>The Prophet</i> was a courageous dramatic experiment, -and will always be read with curiosity if not -with pleasure. But to assume that Mormonism is -wholly unfitted for poetic drama is perhaps to assume -too much.</p> - -<p><i>Prince Deukalion</i>, written under the inspiration -of <i>Faust</i>, is another of those gigantic conceptions -with which Taylor’s imagination loved in later life -to busy itself, as if eager to try its powers to the uttermost. -A theme like this, wholly removed from -human interest, dealing with titanic and mythical -figures, is the most dangerous in the whole range -of possible subjects. Taylor rises so easily to a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_414">414</span> -high level of poetic achievement that it seems as -if he must presently touch some mountain peak. -Yet he always leaves the impression of really having -the strength to do that in which he fails. He -disappoints through the very display of power.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>His poetic work lacks idiosyncrasy, and to credit -him with having given rise to a ‘school’ is to be -generous rather than just. His talent fell just -short of his ambition. A busy life with its multitude -of cares and interests left him too little time -for brooding upon the great themes he affected, -and there was wanting the gift for relentless self-criticism -which operates almost like the creative -power. None the less his countrymen have not -begun to discharge the debt of gratitude they owe -him. Taylor had great virtues. It should be imputed -to him for literary righteousness that he was -willing to undertake the long poem. He never, -so far as is known, made the excuse our poets continually -offer, and which is almost infantile, that -the general public does not care for long poems,—as -if a poet were under any obligation to the -general public.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_57" href="#FNanchor_57" class="fnanchor">57</a> <i>The Picture of St. John</i> was begun eleven years before Worsley -published his fine version of the <i>Odyssey</i> in Spenserian stanza.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_417">417</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_16" class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XVI">XVI<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>George William Curtis</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>Parke Godwin</b>: <i>George William Curtis, A Commemorative -Address</i>, 1892.</p> - -<p><b>J. W. Chadwick</b>: <i>George William Curtis, an Address</i>, -1893.</p> - -<p><b>Edward Cary</b>: <i>George William Curtis</i>, ‘American Men -of Letters,’ 1894.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_85">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Henry Curtis</span>, who sailed for New England -from the port of London on May 6, -1635, was the founder of the Curtis family in -America. His grandson, John Curtis of Worcester, -was ‘a sturdy and open loyalist’ of Revolutionary -times whose personal character was as -heartily esteemed as his political principles were -detested.</p> - -<p>George Curtis, a great-grandson of John, married -Mary Elizabeth Burrill, daughter of James -Burrill, Jr., Chief-justice of Rhode Island. Of -their two sons George William Curtis was the -younger. He was born in Providence, Rhode -Island, on February 24, 1824.</p> - -<p>With his brother James Burrill, his closest -friend and almost inseparable companion, he was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_418">418</span> -sent to C. W. Greene’s school at Jamaica Plain, -near Boston, and remained there five years. He -was afterwards at school in Providence for four -years. In New York, whither his father had removed -(in 1839) to become connected with the -Bank of Commerce, Curtis studied under private -tutors and had some experience of practical life in -the counting-room of a German importing house.</p> - -<p>The education given the Curtis boys had also -an irregular though very agreeable side. They -spent much of the time from 1842 to 1844 as -students at Brook Farm. The greater part of the -two following years they were at Concord, their -object being to combine study and out-of-door -life, and above all to be near Emerson. Taking -up residence with one or other of several farmers -whose local fame almost equalled that of the Concord -men of letters, they spent half of each day in -farm work and the other half in study or studious -idleness. They were to be found regularly at the -Club which met on Monday evenings in Emerson’s -library and which numbered among its members -Hawthorne, Thoreau, and Alcott.</p> - -<p>In August, 1846, provided by his father with a -sum of money sufficient to give him what he -called ‘a generous background,’ Curtis went -abroad. He planned to be gone two years, but -the background was more than generous and he -did not return until 1850. He travelled leisurely -through France, Germany, Italy, and the East,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_419">419</span> -made notes of what he saw and used them partly -in the form of letters to the New York ‘Courier -and Enquirer’ and partly in the famous ‘Howadji’ -books. His literary plans were ambitious, -including as they did a life of Mehemet Ali, on -which he worked for some years only to abandon -it at last.</p> - -<p>On his return to New York he began writing -regularly for the ‘Tribune,’ and was associated -with C. F. Briggs and Parke Godwin in the editorship -of ‘Putnam’s Magazine.’ When the magazine -passed into the hands of Dix, Edwards, and Company, -Curtis put money into the firm. By their -failure he not only lost everything he had, but he -also assumed a debt for which he could not have -been legally held and devoted the proceeds of his -lectures to paying it. He was eighteen years in -ridding himself of the burden.</p> - -<p>In 1854 he began printing the famous ‘Easy -Chair’ papers in ‘Harper’s Monthly,’ and in -1857 the department of ‘Harper’s Weekly’ called -‘The Lounger.’ The latter was a frank imitation -in part of the <i>Tatler</i> and <i>Spectator</i>, even to the -letters from lady correspondents such as Nelly -Lancer, Sabina Griddle, and Xantippe. During -the ten years following his return from abroad -Curtis published six books: <i>Nile Notes of a Howadji</i>, -1851; <i>The Howadji in Syria</i>, 1852; <i>Lotus-Eating</i>, -1852; <i>The Potiphar Papers</i>, 1853; <i>Prue -and I</i>, 1857; <i>Trumps</i>, 1861. His ambitions had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_420">420</span> -hitherto been chiefly literary. To be sure, in 1856, -at Wesleyan University, Middletown, Connecticut, -he had given his address on ‘The Duty of -the American Scholar to Politics and the Times,’ -and had followed it with his oration on ‘Patriotism’ -and his lecture on ‘The Present Aspect of -the Slavery Question.’<a id="FNanchor_58" href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">58</a> He had taken the stump -for Frémont in 1856, and been a delegate to the -Republican National Convention in 1860, where -his courage, adroitness, and impassioned eloquence -had saved the platform at a moment when it -needed salvation. Nevertheless it may be said -that the first ten years of Curtis’s life as a writer -and speaker were ‘literary’ with a strong emphasis -on politics, and that the last thirty years -were political with an undiminished interest in -letters.</p> - -<p>On Thanksgiving Day, 1856, Curtis married -Anna Shaw, a daughter of F. G. Shaw, formerly -of West Roxbury, and a sister of Colonel Robert -Gould Shaw. He had made her acquaintance at -Brook Farm twelve years earlier. There is a pretty -reference to her in one of his letters to Dwight -written in 1844. Curtis had been in Boston for the -day: ‘Anna Shaw and Rose Russell passed me -like beautiful spirits; one like a fresh morning, -the other like an oriental night.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_421">421</span></p> - -<p>In 1863 Curtis became the political editor of -‘Harper’s Weekly’ with the proviso that he was -to have a free hand. He represented political -ideals than which there can be no higher; his discussions -were marked by absolute frankness, joined -to perfect courtesy. The parts which fell to him -in the drama of political life were always important -and often conspicuous. He was a delegate both to -National and to State conventions, and a delegate-at-large -to the convention for revising the State -constitution of New York. Although ‘nominated -by acclamation’ for Secretary of the State -of New York (1869), he refused to serve. He did -allow his name to be presented for governor in the -convention of 1870, supposing all to be in good -faith; but when he discovered that he was the -victim of a trick,—the object being to defeat -Greeley,—he withdrew.<a id="FNanchor_59" href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">59</a></p> - -<p>Next to Anti-slavery his favorite cause was that -of Civil Service reform. In 1865 he became -‘second in command’ to Thomas A. Jenckes of -Rhode Island, the pioneer in the movement. He -was the head of the Civil Service Commission appointed -by President Grant in 1871. As president -of the New York Civil Service Reform Association -and of the National Civil Service Reform -League, he did a work of immediate and lasting -value.</p> - -<p>In 1877 President Hayes offered Curtis his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_422">422</span> -choice of the foreign missions, supposing that he -would elect to go to England. In refusing the -honor Curtis expressed the doubt whether ‘a man -absolutely without legal training of any kind -could be a proper minister.’ Later the German -mission was urged on him, but he saw no reason -to change his former opinion. As an Independent, -Curtis voiced opposition to machine methods in -the State campaign of 1879, and in 1884 broke -with his party and gave his support to Cleveland.</p> - -<p>Albeit he was not college bred, Curtis received -a full share of the honorary degrees which American -colleges lavish every June upon those who -have acquired reputation. For the two years prior -to his death he was Chancellor of the University -of New York.</p> - -<p>The literary work of his middle and later years -remains for the most part embedded in the files -of ‘Harper’s Monthly.’ Three or four little -volumes of ‘Easy Chair’ papers (less than a tenth -part of the whole number of his contributions) -were printed in 1893–94. Written to serve an -ephemeral purpose, these essays have a permanent -value. It is singular that there is no demand -for more reprints of the work of a writer whose -journalism was better than most men’s books. -Besides the ‘Easy Chair’ papers there were published -posthumously <i>Orations and Addresses edited -by C. E. Norton</i>, 1894; <i>Literary and Social Essays</i>, -1895; <i>Ars Recte Vivendi</i>, 1898; <i>Early Letters of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_423">423</span> -George William Curtis to John S. Dwight, edited by -G. W. Cooke</i>, 1898.</p> - -<p>Curtis died, after a long and painful illness, on -August 31, 1892.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_86">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE MAN</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Of</span> Curtis it may be said that his character is revealed -in every line of his writing and in every act of his -public and private life. He was gracious, winning, -generous, quick to forgive, and slow to take offence. -Goodness as exemplified in not a few good men is -alike painful to those who possess it and to those -on whom its influence is exerted. Virtue as exemplified -in him never wore the austere garb or the -gloomy countenance.</p> - -<p>At the time of Curtis’s defection from the Republican -party incredible abuse was showered on -him, not only in the press but through anonymous -letters. He was much saddened by it, less from -the personal point of view than because of the -revelation it gave of the meanness and vindictiveness -of human nature. Having thought too well -of his fellows, he suffered under the disillusionment, -all of which goes to show how optimistic at heart -this disciple of Thackeray and writer of satires was. -And when Senator Conkling made a savage personal -attack on him in the New York State convention<span class="pagenum" id="Page_424">424</span> -of 1877, Curtis seems to have had no feeling -towards his enemy but that of pity: ‘It was -the saddest sight I ever knew, that man glaring -at me in a fury of hate and storming out his foolish -blackguardism.’</p> - -<p>If Curtis’s career illustrates one thing above another, -it is his willingness to sacrifice mental ease -and personal comfort for an ideal. But the sacrifice -was made with such good nature, such grace -in the acquiescence, that one forgets its extent, and -even makes the mistake of thinking that possibly -it cost him little. Undoubtedly it cost him much, -this giving up of literature for politics, this putting -aside of all public honors because there was a -nearer duty which could not be neglected.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_87">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE WRITER AND THE ORATOR</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> author of <i>Nile Notes of a Howadji</i> loved -alliteration. In his early books he amused himself -with pleasant arrangements of words such as -‘camels with calm, contemptuous eyes,’ or ‘lustrous -leaves languidly moving,’ or ‘slim minarets spiring -silverly and strangely from the undefined mass -of mud houses.’ Note this description of the -date-palm: ‘Plumed as a prince and graceful as a -gentleman, stands the date; and whoever travels<span class="pagenum" id="Page_425">425</span> -among palms travels in good society;’ or this of -the sakias: ‘Like huge summer insects they doze -upon the bank, droning a melancholy, monotonous -song. The slow, sad sound pervades the -land—one calls to another, and he sighs to his -neighbor, and the Nile is shored with sound no -less than sand.’</p> - -<p>Alliteration is a mark of youth. Employed to -excess it has a cloying effect, like that of diminished -sevenths in music. Of minor rhetorical arts -it is the poorest, the most seductive, the most -readily abused. But we should miss it sadly from -the ‘Howadji’ books. Removed from the context -these phrases quoted have an artificial sound, in -their place they blend perfectly.</p> - -<p>Curtis’s style grew less florid and sensuous after -the early writings. At all times it is singularly easy. -One gets the impression that he was a spontaneous -writer. Great productivity is not possible when -there must be a constant retouching of phrases and -paragraphs. The unlabored nature of his writing -may explain the light estimate Curtis put on it. -He is said to have been quite unwilling to reprint -a volume of essays from the ‘Easy Chair.’ That -anything which came with so little effort could be -worth re-reading seemed not to occur to him.</p> - -<p>He was the orator almost as soon as he was the -man of letters. A rhetorician by taste and training, -he knew the dangers of rhetoric and in his oratory -avoided them. Clarity and grace are the most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_426">426</span> -obvious characteristics of every sentence. Curtis -could no more have been awkward and heavy than -he could have been obscure.</p> - -<p>He can hardly be praised enough for the ease -and naturalness of his allusions. We auditors -grow restless when a speaker begins to cite classical -names. We fear our old friends Cicero and -Catiline, Cæsar and Brutus. We cannot away with -Hannibal and Hamilcar. The ear has been dulled -by constant repetition. Curtis knew how to make -the oldest of these tiresome references seem new. -All his allusions have an air of freshness and spontaneity. -One would suppose the declaimers had -long since exhausted the virtues of Spartacus. -Curtis dared to make the old gladiator accessory -to his argument in a passage like <span class="locked">this:—</span></p> - -<p>‘Spartacus was a barbarian, a pagan, and a slave. -Escaping he summoned other men whose liberty -was denied. His call rang clear through Italy -like an autumn storm through the forest, and -men answered him like clustering leaves.... He -had no rights that Romans were bound to respect, -but he wrote out in blood upon the plains of Lombardy -his equal humanity with Cato and Cæsar. -The tale is terrible. History shudders with it -still. But you and I, Plato and Shakespeare, the -mightiest and the meanest men, were honored in -Spartacus, for his wild revenge showed the brave -scorn of oppression that beats immortal in the -proud heart of man.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_427">427</span></p> - -<p>Nature had bestowed on Curtis gifts which, if -not indispensable to a speaker, are like free-will -offerings as against tribute, and make the pathway -smooth. His commanding presence, his winning -smile and manner, his glorious voice, the air of -high breeding, a self-possession which when accompanied -by unaffected good nature is one of -the most attractive traits—all combined to place -him among the first of American orators. He was -properly said (in a phrase which through vain repetition -has almost lost its meaning) to ‘grace’ the -platform.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_88">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>NILE NOTES OF A HOWADJI</i>, <i>PRUE AND I</i>, -<i>TRUMPS</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">‘In</span> Shakespeare’s day the nuisance was the Monsieur -Travellers who had swum in a gundello,’ -wrote Fitzgerald in a half-petulant, half-humorous -mood, ‘but now the bores are those who have -smoked <i>tchibouques</i> with a <i>Peshaw</i>!’ He was -speaking of <i>Eothen</i>. The fever for Eastern books -was at its height when Curtis went abroad in 1846.</p> - -<p>The <i>Nile Notes of a Howadji</i> describes the four -weeks’ flight of the ‘Ibis’ up the river to Aboo -Simbel, and the ‘course of temples’ on the return -voyage. It is a book of impressions and rhapsodies, -a glowing record of travel in which realism<span class="pagenum" id="Page_428">428</span> -struggles with poetry and is usually worsted. It -is a dream of the Orient, delightfully parsimonious -as to improving facts, and prodigal of whatever -helps the home-keeping reader to comprehend -the witchery and fascination of the East. A few -timid souls were disturbed by ‘Fair Frailty’ and -‘Kushuk Arnem,’ which seem innocent enough -now, but the timid souls no doubt found peace in -other chapters, such as ‘Under the Palms.’</p> - -<p><i>The Howadji in Syria</i> continues the record. The -conditions are changed. Instead of the dahabieh, -the camel; for the Ibis was substituted MacWhirter, -whose exertions in trotting ‘shook my soul -within me;’ for the mud villages and mysterious -temples of the Nile, Jerusalem, Acre, Damascus. -The temper of the book differs from that of its -predecessor. In this volume Curtis is poetical, in -the other he was a poet. The mocking American -note is heard, as when the Howadji says ‘a storm -besieged us in Nablous and a fellow Christian of -the Armenian persuasion secured us for his fleas, -during the time we remained.’ The Howadji has -evidently undergone a measure of disenchantment. -The wonders of the East are less wonderful because -less vague. In Egypt there was intoxication, -in Palestine and Syria there is curiosity, mingled -with amusement and contempt. The characteristic -quality of the second Howadji book is to be -found in the descriptions of the cafés, the bazaars, -and in that most excellent account of the Turkish<span class="pagenum" id="Page_429">429</span> -bath (‘Uncle Kühleborn’), quite the best thing of -the kind that has been written.</p> - -<p><i>Lotus-Eating</i> is a series of journalistic letters -on the Hudson, Trenton Falls, Niagara, Saratoga, -Newport, and Nahant, when Nahant was ‘a shower -of little brown cottages fallen upon the rocky -promontory that terminates Lynn beach.’ Not -in this wise do young men now write for newspapers, -with ornate periods and quotations from -Waller and Herrick. The book abounds in happy -characterizations. At Saratoga ‘we discriminate the -arctic and antarctic Bostonians, fair, still, stately, -with a vein of scorn in their Saratoga enjoyment, -and the languid, cordial, and careless Southerners, -far from precise in dress or style, but balmy in -manner as a bland Southern morning. We mark -the crisp courtesy of the New Yorker, elegant in -dress, exclusive in association, a pallid ghost of -Paris—without its easy elegance, its <i>bonhomie</i>, -its gracious <i>savoir faire</i>, without the <i>spirituel</i> sparkle -of its conversation, and its natural and elastic -grace of style.’ And so it runs on.</p> - -<p><i>The Potiphar Papers</i> is in another key. The -placid observer, who, in <i>Lotus-Eating</i>, quoted from -De Quincey a delectable passage on the poetry -of dancing, is now a bitter satirist contemplating -a corps-de-ballet of society buds gyrating in the -arms of the <i>jeunesse dorée</i>. These ‘bounding belles’ -and their admirers shock the observer with a style -of dancing which in its whirl, its ‘rush, its fury<span class="pagenum" id="Page_430">430</span> -is only equalled by that of the masked balls at -the French opera.’ The book is a new treatment -(new in 1853) of the old subject of Vanity Fair. -The humor is severe. The touch is not light and -the caustic writing is not happy. Curtis was never -a master of the whip of scorpions. Nevertheless -<i>The Potiphar Papers</i> had a vogue.</p> - -<p><i>Prue and I</i> is a book of the sort Zola used -to hate—literature which ‘consoles with the lies -of the imagination.’ It is the idyl of contented -obscurity, the poetic side of humble life. Delicately -wrought, light in texture, shot with charming -fancies and dainty conceits, having the grace -that belongs to old-school manners, this little prose -poem is justly accounted its author’s masterpiece.</p> - -<p>Curtis wrote one novel, <i>Trumps</i>, and was disappointed -in the result. The book is readable, -but not because it is a story. Many good novelists -are made, not born. <i>Trumps</i> is the work of a -novelist in the making.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_89">V<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE EASY CHAIR</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">The</span> twenty-seven essays of the volume entitled -<i>From the Easy Chair</i> show very well in brief -compass the range of their author’s powers in -this form. Here are reminiscences of Browning -and his wife, of the Dickens readings in ’67, of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_431">431</span> -Everett’s oratory and Jennie Lind’s singing, of -a lecture by Emerson and a recital by Gottschalk -or by Thalberg, of a night at the play-house -with Jefferson, or a dinner at the old (the <i>very -old</i>) Delmonico’s, when that famous eating-house -stood at the corner of Broadway and Chambers -Street. The flavor of by-gone days is here. ‘It -was a pleasant little New York,’ says the essayist -regretfully, being mindful of the charm which -a lively small city possesses, and which a big city, -be it never so lively, somehow lacks.</p> - -<p>Half the attractiveness of the ‘Easy Chair’ papers -is due to their seemingly unpremeditated character. -Curtis was not writing a book, nor was he -proposing at some time, ‘in response to the earnest -solicitations of friends upon whose judgment I -rely,’ to collect and republish these fugitive leaves. -He comes home after a little chat, perhaps, with -John Gilbert and sits down to tell us about it. Two -or three reflections suggested by the interview are -thrown in quite happily, and while we listeners -are most absorbed and in no mood to have him -break off, Curtis rises, and with some pleasant little -remark, nods, and smiles, and is gone. And one -of the listeners says, ‘I wish we saw him oftener. -He comes only once a month.’</p> - -<p>The ‘Easy Chair’ papers are urban as well as -urbane. Curtis was a city man. We know that -he had a summer home in ‘Arcadia’ and was -happy there, but his joy in city life is betrayed in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_432">432</span> -almost every paper he wrote. No passionate lover -of nature, intent on fringed gentians and purling -brooks, penned that description of a gown—‘a -mass of pleats and puffs and marvelous trimmings, -which, when profusely extravagant upon -the form of an elderly woman, always reminds me -of signals of distress hung out upon a craft that -is drifting far away from the enchanted isles of -youth.’</p> - -<p>Satirist though he is, Curtis in the ‘Easy Chair’ -is always the gentle satirist. He writes of the -mannerless sex, of the people who rent boxes at -the opera because they can talk better there than -at home, of the taste of the town so greedy for -minute details of the doings of the rich and the -fashionable, but there is no acerbity in his tone. -Here is an illustration of his manner. The Cosmopolitan -of the ‘Easy Chair’ talks with Mrs. -Grundy, who proposes as a great boon to introduce -him to a very rich man. ‘“You say he is very -rich?” “Enormously, fabulously,” replied Mrs. -Grundy, as if crossing herself.’</p> - -<p>‘Trifles light as air’ would be a not inadequate -description of hundreds of the ‘Easy Chair’ papers. -And they are quite as wholesome as air.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_433">433</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_90">VI<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>ORATIONS AND ADDRESSES</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Curtis’s</span> biographer holds that the volume of reports -and addresses on Civil Service reform is -‘in some respects the most valuable of all [his] -writings.’<a id="FNanchor_60" href="#Footnote_60" class="fnanchor">60</a> The entire collection of <i>Orations and -Addresses</i>, comprising over a thousand pages, is no -less a manual of literary than of civic virtues. A -student of the art of expression can well afford to -make this book his vade mecum. Here is a body -of practical illustration of how to write and how -to speak. The oration on ‘The Duty of the -American Scholar to Politics and the Times,’ delivered -when Curtis was thirty-two years of age, -is an extraordinary performance. Few addresses -hold one in the reading like this. What it must -have been in the delivery we can but faintly imagine. -It is another splendid proof that literature -and oratory may occupy a common ground, neither -usurping the other’s place. With the amplest use -of oratorical arts the speaker makes rhetoric subordinate -to thought. It shows fully (does this -oration) one marked virtue of Curtis’s public discourse, -its perfect urbanity. His speeches were -free from invective, from personalities of any sort, -from every feature born of mere impulse of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_434">434</span> -moment. If he was ever tempted to give vigor and -point to his phrase by means which must afterward -be regretted, temptation never got the better of him.</p> - -<p>The leading thesis of the Wesleyan College -oration—that the scholar is not the recluse, the -pale valetudinarian, a woman without woman’s -charm, but a man—may not have been new; but -the putting was fresh, vivid, inspiring, eloquent. -The oration may be compared with Emerson’s -utterances on the same theme. Emerson’s treatment -is the more philosophical; that of Curtis is -the better adapted to public speech.</p> - -<p>Along with this oration should be read the address -on ‘Patriotism,’ in which Curtis defends the -doctrine that where law violates the primary conception -of human rights it is our duty to disobey -the law, and the address entitled ‘The Present -Aspect of the Slavery Question,’ in which Curtis -said, ‘Government is, unquestionably, a science of -compromises, but only of policies and interests, -not of essential rights; and if of them, then the -sacrifice must fall on all.’</p> - -<p>These three are but the beginning of a series of -orations from among which the great eulogies of -Sumner and of Wendell Phillips, of Bryant and -of Lowell, may be chosen as the very crown of his -work.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>The critic (and there are such critics) who values -almost lightly the sentimental and poetic literary<span class="pagenum" id="Page_435">435</span> -work of Curtis’s young manhood is perhaps not -entirely unjust; Curtis would have agreed with -him. But the critic would be unjust if he overlooked -the value of this literary training in giving -an enormous increase of power. We shall never -know how much the editorial writer and political -orator gained in clarity, precision, beauty of style, -effectiveness, by the penning of a series of books -in which for pages together he revels in the mere -music of words. The author of the address on -Sumner was largely indebted to the author of the -<i>Nile Notes of a Howadji</i> and <i>Prue and I</i>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_58" href="#FNanchor_58" class="fnanchor">58</a> When Curtis gave this address in Philadelphia (Dec. 15, -1859) a mob armed with stones and bottles of vitriol attempted -to break up the meeting. Cary’s <i>Curtis</i>, pp. 126–129.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_59" href="#FNanchor_59" class="fnanchor">59</a> Cary.</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_438">438</span></p><div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_60" href="#FNanchor_60" class="fnanchor">60</a> Cary’s <i>Curtis</i>, p. 296.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_439">439</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_17" class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XVII">XVII<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>Donald Grant Mitchell</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p>[<b>H. A. Beers</b>]: ‘Donald G. Mitchell’ in the <i>Cyclopædia -of American Biography</i>.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_91">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Donald Grant Mitchell</span>, who won literary -reputation under the name of ‘Ik Marvel,’ -was born at Norwich, Connecticut, on April -12, 1822. He is a son of the Reverend Alfred -Mitchell, formerly pastor of the Second Congregational -Church of Norwich, and a grandson of -Stephen Mix Mitchell, an eminent jurist and -member of the Continental Congress. He prepared -for college at John Hall’s school at Ellington, -and was graduated at Yale in 1841.</p> - -<p>Three years of life on a farm for his health gave -him a bent towards rural pleasures and occupations. -In 1844, still in pursuit of health, he visited England, -the Isle of Jersey, France, and Holland. His -first book, <i>Fresh Gleanings, or a New Sheaf from the -Old Fields of Continental Europe</i> (1847), was the -literary fruit of this journey.</p> - -<p>Mitchell took up the study of law in New -York, but found himself physically unequal to a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_440">440</span> -sedentary life. Moreover, France was on the eve -of revolution. The young law student thought -it no time to dawdle over Puffendorf, Grotius, and -‘the amiable, aristocratic Blackstone,’ when there -was a chance to see history made. He ‘threw -Puffendorf, big as he was, into the corner,’ and -started for Paris, spent eight months there, saw -what he went to see, and described it in his second -book, <i>Battle Summer</i> (1850).<a id="FNanchor_61" href="#Footnote_61" class="fnanchor">61</a></p> - -<p>His third literary venture was a periodical essay, -<i>The Lorgnette, or Studies of the Town, by an Opera-Goer</i>. -It was published weekly for six months, -and sold by Henry Kernot, ‘a small bookseller -up Broadway, at the centre of what was then -the fashionable shopping region.’ For a time -the secret of the authorship was well kept, Kernot -being as much in the dark as the public. To -divert suspicion from himself, Mitchell thought -to bring out in a distant city, and under his own -name, something ‘of an entirely different quality -and tone’ from <i>The Lorgnette</i>. He failed in getting -a Boston publisher, and <i>Reveries of a Bachelor</i>, -the book in question, was published by Baker -and Scribner in New York (1850). Its success -led to the making of another series of ‘reveries.’ -This was <i>Dream Life</i>, written in six weeks of the -summer and published in the fall of 1851. On<span class="pagenum" id="Page_441">441</span> -these two books ‘Ik Marvel’s’ reputation with -the general reading public still rests.</p> - -<p>In May, 1853, Mitchell was appointed United -States consul at Venice. On the thirty-first of the -same month he married Miss Mary F. Pringle, -of Charleston, South Carolina, and in June sailed -for Italy. The account of his induction into the -consular office will be found in <i>Seven Stories</i>. A -lively and good-humored narrative, it is not to be -read without great amusement, together with a -feeling of contempt for the shabby way in which -our glorious (and sometimes parsimonious) republic -used to treat its humbler officials. During -the two years of his consulship Mitchell collected -materials for a history of the Venetian Republic. -The book is still unpublished, and presumably -has been long since abandoned.</p> - -<p>The days of his public service being at an end, -Mitchell returned to America and settled on an -estate near New Haven (‘Edgewood’), where since -1855 he has led the life of a man of letters and gentleman -farmer. In addition to the books already -named, he has published: <i>Fudge Doings</i>, 1855; <i>My -Farm of Edgewood</i>, 1863; <i>Seven Stories</i>, 1864; -<i>Wet Days at Edgewood</i>, 1865; <i>Doctor Johns</i>, 1866; -<i>Rural Studies</i>, 1867;<a id="FNanchor_62" href="#Footnote_62" class="fnanchor">62</a> <i>About Old Story Tellers</i>, -1877; <i>The Woodbridge Record</i>, 1883; <i>Bound Together</i>, -1884; <i>English Lands, Letters, and Kings</i>, 1889–90; -<i>American Lands and Letters</i>, 1897.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_442">442</span></p> - -<p>For a time Mitchell was editor of the ‘Atlantic -Almanac’ (1868–69), and for one year (1869) -editor of ‘Hearth and Home.’ He served as one -of the judges of industrial art at the Centennial -Exhibition (1876), and was a United States commissioner -at the Paris Exposition of 1878. He -has lectured much on literature and art. Yale recognized -his achievements in letters by conferring -on him, in 1878, the degree of LL. D.</p> - -<p>He is one of the most attractive figures of our -time, not alone because of his unaffected goodness, -his charm of manner, his literary reputation, -but because he is the last survivor of a group of -writers who in the Fifties made New York famous, -and about whose association there still clings a -very attractive atmosphere of romance.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_92">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE AUTHOR AND THE MAN</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">A critic</span> who was given a copy of <i>Dream Life</i> -and asked to draw the character of the author -therefrom, might possibly come to conclusions like -these. ‘Ik Marvel,’ he would say, must be very -generous, sympathetic with respect to the lesser -weaknesses of human nature, and charitable towards -the greater, or else this book is a falsehood from -beginning to end. He must be very manly, for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_443">443</span> -in all its two hundred pages there is not a cynical -note or a sneer. He must be humorous, or he -could not have written the chapters on ‘A New -England Squire’ and ‘The Country Church,’ to -say nothing of the account of the loves of Clarence -and Jenny. He must be sentimental, or the -chapter entitled ‘A Good Wife’ had been an impossibility.</p> - -<p>At every point the book betrays its Puritan -origin. ‘Ik Marvel’ is a moralist. He makes a -direct and constant appeal to the ethical sentiment. -In one of his prefaces he mentions the fact—doubtless -an amused smile played about his lips -as he wrote the lines—that <i>Dream Life</i> has sometimes -insinuated itself into Sunday-school libraries. -He hopes it has ‘worked no blight there.’ -At all events, ‘there are six days in the week ... -on which its perusal could do no mischief.’ -Doubtless the moral lessons are commonplace -enough, but their triteness is relieved by the literary -quality. Puritanism without its narrowness, -and sentimentalism controlled by humor and good -sense, lie at the basis of <i>Reveries of a Bachelor</i> and -<i>Dream Life</i>. The character of their author is to be -plainly if not completely read in these two books.</p> - -<p>The distinctive flavor of ‘Ik Marvel’s’ literary -style may be got in the pleasing volume entitled -<i>Fresh Gleanings</i>. Limpidity, grace, ease, are -among the virtues of his prose. The fabric of -words is light, airy, richly colored at times, but not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_444">444</span> -over colored. With due recognition of his individuality -it may be said that ‘Ik Marvel’ was -a literary son of ‘Geoffrey Crayon.’ The sweetness, -the leisurely flow of the narrative, the unobtrusiveness -of manner, all suggest Irving. Perhaps -Mitchell meant to acknowledge his literary paternity -when he dedicated <i>Dream Life</i> to the author -of <i>The Sketch Book</i>. But while we recognize this -debt to Irving it is most important that we do not -exaggerate it.</p> - -<p>One marked exception must be made. There -is no hint of Irving in <i>Battle Summer</i>, an account -of the Revolution of 1848, every page of which -echoes more or less distinctly the voice of Carlyle. -So close is the imitation at times as to awaken a -doubt whether <i>Battle Summer</i> was not intended -for a ‘serious parody.’ At all events, it is one of -many proofs of the strong hold the <i>History of -the French Revolution</i> had on the minds of young -men.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_93">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE WRITINGS</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><i>Fresh Gleanings</i> is a volume of travel, written in a -way to persuade one of the uselessness of pictorial -illustrations. Its manner occasionally suggests -Sterne’s <i>Sentimental Journey</i>, which the young traveller -may have been reading of late. Sentiment and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_445">445</span> -humor are agreeably blended. Under ‘Ik Marvel’s’ -guidance one visits Paris, Limoges, Arles, -Nîmes, Montpellier, Rouen, carefully avoiding the -‘objects of interest’ and learning much about the -life. A less courageous writer would have told us -more and shown us less.</p> - -<p>Books like this always contain interpolated stories, -told around the inn fire, or over the half-cup -at the café. The ‘Story of Le Merle,’ ‘An Old -Chronicle of the City,’ ‘Hinzelmann,’ and ‘Boldo’s -Story’ are graceful, but so brief as to seem mere -anecdotes.</p> - -<p><i>The Lorgnette</i>, consisting of the lucubrations of -one ‘John Timon,’ is an amusing and instructive -periodical. Not its least entertaining feature is the -account of the literary distempers of the day, the -Tupper fever, the Festus outbreak, the Jane Eyre -malady, and the Typee disorder, together with -other literary epidemics. Neither <i>The Lorgnette</i> -nor <i>Fudge Doings</i> is now much read. But if the -modern cynic, who takes, possibly, a condescending -attitude towards these old satires on fashionable -life, will but pick up a copy of <i>Fudge Doings</i> -and try a few chapters, he will be forced to admit -that if we should not to-day think of writing satire -in this manner, it may have been a good way in -1855. Perchance in opening the volume at random -he comes on the account of the adventure of -Wash. Fudge with the black domino. In which -case he will find himself betrayed into reading two<span class="pagenum" id="Page_446">446</span> -chapters at least, for he must needs take the trouble -to learn how the affair ended.</p> - -<p><i>Fudge Doings</i> and <i>The Lorgnette</i> may be looked -on as a contribution to the history of manners. -By their aid one reconstructs the drama of fashionable -life in the mid-century, sees what was then -thought monstrous, and incidentally learns how -simple the vices of the grandfathers were.</p> - -<p><i>Reveries of a Bachelor</i> ushers one into a quaint -and delightful world. The reveries are of love—whether, -in the words of Robert Burton quoting -Plotinus, ‘it be a God, or a divell, or passion of the -minde.’ The book is by no means compounded -exclusively of moonshine and roses. Some of the -pictures are calculated to give a bachelor pause. -Here is Peggy who loves you, or at least swears it, -with her hand on the <i>Sorrows of Werther</i>. She is -not bad looking, Peggy, ‘save a bit too much of -forehead.’ But she is ‘such a sad blue’ who will -spend her money on the ‘Literary World’ and -the <i>Friends in Council</i>.</p> - -<p>By the severer standards of our day Peggy was -not so much of a ‘blue.’ None the less she is distinctly -literary. She reads Dante and ‘funny Goldoni’ -and leaves spots of baby-gruel on a Tasso -of 1680. She adores La Bruyère; even reads him -while nurse gets dinner and ‘you are holding the -baby.’</p> - -<p>The vision presently becomes terrific and can -only be dispelled by a vicious kick at the forestick.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_447">447</span> -Revery, misnamed idleness, has its uses. Whatever -else comes true, the Bachelor will not marry -a young woman who consoles her husband for an -ill-cooked dinner by quotations from the Greek -Anthology.</p> - -<p><i>Dream Life</i> is also a collection of ‘reveries.’ -Under the similitude of the seasons, the author -has pencilled little sketches of boyhood, youth, -manhood, and age. The temptation to the obvious -in morals and sentiment must have been great; -but again Mitchell’s literary skill and his humor -carry him through successfully.</p> - -<p><i>Seven Stories with Basement and Attic</i> is a group -of narratives drawn from the author’s ‘plethoric -little note books of travel.’ The ‘Basement’ is -the introduction, the ‘Attic’ the conclusion. -The first story, ‘Wet Day at an Irish Inn,’ shows -how, if he be observant, a man may have adventures -without taking the trouble to cross the street -in search of them. Three of the stories are French -(‘Le Petit Soulier,’ ‘The Cabriolet,’ and ‘Emile -Roque’); another is Swiss (the ‘Bride of the Ice -King’); yet another is Italian (‘Count Pesaro’), -and all are exquisite, written in a style which for -sweetness and unaffected ease is, if not a lost art, -at all events a neglected one. It has been said -that our young men would not care to write in -this fashion to-day; it is a question whether our -young men would be able to do so.</p> - -<p>One novel stands to ‘Ik Marvel’s’ credit,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_448">448</span> -<i>Doctor Johns</i>, a story of a New England country -parsonage, well written because its author could -not write otherwise, faithful and exact because he -knew the life, yet going no deeper than other attempts -to explain the New England character, the -externals of which are so easy to portray and the -real essence so baffling.</p> - -<p>Among the best of ‘Ik Marvel’s’ books are -those dealing with rural life. <i>My Farm of Edgewood</i> -sets forth the author’s adventures in buying -a country home, and his subsequent adventures in -settling therein and making life variously profitable. -It is a successful attempt to magnify the office of -gentleman-farmer. The attractiveness of the life -is not over-emphasized, nor is it pretended that -that is legitimate farming which produces big crops -regardless of expense.</p> - -<p>The picture as a whole is seductive in ways not -to be referred to the literary skill of the artist. It -is odd enough how a lay-reader, unused to carrots -and cabbages, will follow every detail of -Mitchell’s experiment. Here must be some outcroppings -of the primitive instinct. Moreover, the -book relates to home-making, a subject perennially -dear to the American heart. Our restlessness has -never unsettled us in that regard.</p> - -<p><i>Wet Days at Edgewood</i> is a companion volume. -The days here celebrated, nine in number, were -made bright by readings about ‘old farmers, old -gardeners, and old pastorals.’ Rejoicing in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_449">449</span> -strong common sense of ancient writers on husbandry, -and in the quaint flavor of their style, -‘Ik Marvel’ chats of Roman farm and villa life, -recalling what Varro and Columella had to say -about the art of tilling the soil. He takes pleasure -in the reflection that ‘yon open furrow ... carries -trace of the ridging in the “Works and Days;” -that the brown field of half-broken clods is the -fallow (Νεός) of Xenophon,’ and that ‘Cato gives -orders for the asparagus.’</p> - -<p>Then he comes to modern times, to the days -of Thomas Tusser, Sir Hugh Platt, Gervase -Markham, Samuel Hartlib, Jethro Tull, and -William Shenstone, men who farmed practically, -or theoretically, or even poetically. ‘Ik Marvel’ -loves them all, even those whose enthusiasm was -in the ratio of their helplessness. No less dear to -him is Goldsmith, who wrote what passes for a -rural tale and is not rural at all, but comically -urban, and Charles Lamb, who hated the country -and gladly avowed it.</p> - -<p>These are Mitchell’s principal works. Having -read thus far, it were a pity to overlook the two -volumes on <i>English Lands, Letters, and Kings</i>, and -a greater pity to overlook the instructive and entertaining -<i>American Lands and Letters</i>. In brief, -the reader who insists on knowing ‘Ik Marvel’ -only by <i>Reveries of a Bachelor</i> does his author an -injustice and robs himself of many hours of literary -delight.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_450">450</span></p> - -<p>Sentimentalism will always manifest itself in -literature in one form or another. That there will -be a return to the manner which we associate with -‘Ik Marvel’ is not likely, yet it was sentimentalism -in its manliest form. The continued popularity -of <i>Reveries of a Bachelor</i> suggests that -Americans of to-day are not quite as cynical and -irreverent as they are sometimes painted, or as -they love to paint themselves.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_61" href="#FNanchor_61" class="fnanchor">61</a> There were to have been two volumes of <i>Battle Summer</i>, -called respectively the ‘Reign of the Blouse’ and the ‘Reign of -the Bourgeoisie.’ Only the first was published.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_62" href="#FNanchor_62" class="fnanchor">62</a> Reprinted under the title <i>Out-of-Town Places</i>, 1884.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_453">453</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_18" class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XVIII">XVIII<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>F. H. Underwood</b>: <i>The Poet and the Man: Recollections -and Appreciations of James Russell Lowell</i>, 1893.</p> - -<p><b>E. E. Hale</b>: <i>James Russell Lowell and his Friends</i>, 1899.</p> - -<p><b>H. E. Scudder</b>: <i>James Russell Lowell, a Biography</i>, 1901.</p> - -<p><b>Ferris Greenslet</b>: <i>James Russell Lowell, his Life and -Work</i>, 1905.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_94">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> Lowells of New England are descendants -of Percival Lowell, a prosperous Bristol merchant -who came to America in 1639 and settled -at Newbury, Massachusetts. The family has been -distinguished through its various representatives -for public spirit and business acumen as well as -for a devotion to letters. The grandfather of -the poet, Judge John Lowell, was author of the -clause in the Bill of Rights abolishing slavery in -Massachusetts. One of his sons was founder of -the great manufacturing city on the Merrimac -which bears his name. A grandson established the -Lowell Institute, a system of popular instruction -by free courses of lectures,—a system unique, in -that it aims to bring to its audiences representative<span class="pagenum" id="Page_454">454</span> -scholars, chosen less for their skill in the -graceful but often specious art of public speaking -than for solid attainments.</p> - -<p>James Russell Lowell, the youngest son of the -Reverend Charles Lowell, minister of the West -Church in Boston, was born at Cambridge, Massachusetts, -in the colonial mansion known as ‘Elmwood,’ -on February 22, 1819. His mother, Harriet -(Spence) Lowell, was a daughter of Keith -Spence, of Portsmouth, New Hampshire.<a id="FNanchor_63" href="#Footnote_63" class="fnanchor">63</a></p> - -<p>Under William Wells (an English pedagogue of -the old school) Lowell prepared for college, entered -Harvard, and after some disciplinary tribulations -was graduated with his class (1838). He studied -law and was admitted to the bar (August, 1840), -but remained briefless during the few months of -his efforts to begin a practice.</p> - -<p>While waiting for clients, he busied himself with -literature. He was early a rhymer. At twelve years -of age his skill in making verse had astonished his -schoolfellows, one of whom rushed home in great -excitement to announce that ‘Jemmy Lowell -thought he was going to be a poet.’</p> - -<p>With the fearlessness of youth and in the hope -of bettering himself financially, Lowell, aided by -his friend Robert Carter, started a magazine, ‘The -Pioneer.’ According to the prospectus, dated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_455">455</span> -October 15, 1842, the editors proposed to supply -‘the intelligent and reflecting portion of the Reading -Public with a substitute for the enormous -quantity of thrice diluted trash, in the shape of -namby-pamby love tales and sketches, which is -monthly poured out to them....’ Only three -numbers of ‘The Pioneer’ were issued.<a id="FNanchor_64" href="#Footnote_64" class="fnanchor">64</a> The -‘Reading Public’ was joined to its idols and declined -to encourage ‘a healthy and manly Periodical Literature.’</p> - -<p>In 1841 was published <i>A Year’s Life</i>, Lowell’s -first volume of verse; it was followed by <i>Poems</i> -(1844), by a volume of prose, <i>Conversations on Some -of the Old Poets</i> (1845), and by Poems, ‘second -series’ (1848).</p> - -<p>The ‘Ianthe’ of <i>A Year’s Life</i> was easily identified -with Maria White, the gifted and beautiful -girl who, in December, 1844, became the poet’s -wife. The first year of their married life was passed -in Philadelphia, whither Lowell had taken his -bride to protect her from the harsh New England -winter. Their financial resources were few, but of -gayety and courage there was no lack. Lowell -aspired to live by his pen. What with the small -sums paid him (rather against his will) for editorial -work on ‘The Pennsylvania Freeman,’ what -with the hardly larger sums for contributions to -‘Graham’s Magazine’ and ‘The Broadway Journal,’ -he managed to subsist.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_456">456</span></p> - -<p>Nevertheless, it seemed best for a number of -reasons that the young people return to Cambridge -and make a common home at ‘Elmwood’ -with Lowell’s parents. In June of this year (1846) -appeared ‘A Letter from Mr. Ezekiel Biglow -of Jaalam to the Hon. Joseph T. Buckingham, -editor of the Boston Courier, inclosing a poem of -his son, Mr. Hosea Biglow.’ This was the first -of <i>The Biglow Papers</i>, the initial attack of many -attacks Lowell was to make on slavery with the -weapons of satire and ridicule. During 1847 three -more ‘papers’ were printed in the ‘Courier;’ the -remaining five appeared in ‘The National Anti-Slavery -Standard.’</p> - -<p>When the ‘Standard’ passed from the control -of a board of editors into the hands of Sydney -Howard Gay, Lowell became a salaried contributor, -and for a time his name appeared as corresponding -editor. He was allowed a free hand. -Abolitionist though he was, his abolitionism was -tempered with a deal of sympathy for slaveholders. -And he had interests which most reformers of the -time lacked, a passionate love of letters, for example. -Hence it was that in the midst of leader-writing -he was penning <i>A Fable for Critics</i> and -<i>The Vision of Sir Launfal</i>.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1851–52 Lowell spent with his -family in Italy, and the following spring and summer -in journeyings through France, England, Scotland, -and Wales. In October he sailed for home,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_457">457</span> -having as ship companions Thackeray and Arthur -Hugh Clough. Just a year later Mrs. Lowell died -(October 27, 1853). For months afterward Lowell -was in ‘great agony of mind, and he had to force -himself into those laborious hours which one instinctively -feels contain a wise restorative.’<a id="FNanchor_65" href="#Footnote_65" class="fnanchor">65</a></p> - -<p>He abounded in literary plans, some of which -(and among them a novel) were never carried out, -whereas others, his papers in ‘Putnam’s Magazine’ -and his lectures on English Poetry, before -the Lowell Institute, were in a high degree successful. -Each lecture of the Institute course had -to be given twice, so great was the demand for -tickets. Lowell was very nervous over his first -platform experience, and not a little pleased when -he found that he could hold the audience an hour -and a quarter (‘they are in the habit of going out -at the end of the hour’). The singular merit of -the lectures led to his being appointed to the chair -of belles-lettres at Harvard, just resigned by Longfellow. -After a year’s study abroad the new professor -entered on his academic duties (September, -1856).</p> - -<p>In 1857 Lowell married Miss Frances Dunlap, -of Portland, Maine. She was a woman of reserved -though gracious manners and rare beauty, who -through her serene temper and fine critical sagacity, -together with a keen sense of the humorous, exerted -a most beneficent influence on Lowell’s life.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_458">458</span></p> - -<p>The burdens of college work were not so heavy -as to prevent Lowell’s assuming the editorship of -‘The Atlantic Monthly,’ a new literary magazine -with an anti-slavery bias. He held this post from -1857 to 1861, and proved to be one of the best -of editors, though routine was irksome to him, -and the vagaries of contributors called for more -patience than he could at all times command. Two -years after leaving the ‘Atlantic’ he undertook to -edit the ‘North American Review’ in company -with Charles Eliot Norton, on whom fell the chief -responsibilities. Lowell, for his part, contributed -to the ‘Review’ many notable papers on politics -and literature.</p> - -<p>The Civil War called out much of Lowell’s -most spirited prose and not a little of his best -poetry. A second series of <i>Biglow Papers</i> appeared -in the ‘Atlantic,’ and for the commemoration of -sons of Harvard who had fought for the Union, -Lowell wrote his magnificent <i>Commemoration Ode</i>. -This noble performance was literally an improvisation, -written in a single night.</p> - -<p>At this point we may take note of Lowell’s -publications, subsequent to the <i>Poems</i>, ‘second -series.’ They are: <i>A Fable for Critics</i>, 1848; -<i>The Biglow Papers</i>, 1848; <i>Fireside Travels</i>, 1864; -<i>The Biglow Papers</i>, ‘second series,’ 1866; <i>Under -the Willows and Other Poems</i>, 1869; <i>The Cathedral</i>, -1870; <i>Among My Books</i>, 1870; <i>My Study -Windows</i>, 1871; <i>Among My Books</i>, ‘second series,’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_459">459</span> -1876; <i>Three Memorial Poems</i>, 1877; <i>Democracy -and Other Addresses</i>, 1887; <i>Political Addresses</i>, -1888; <i>Heartsease and Rue</i>, 1888.</p> - -<p>There appeared posthumously <i>Latest Literary -Essays</i>, 1891; <i>The Old English Dramatists</i>, 1892; -<i>Letters of James Russell Lowell, edited by C. E. -Norton</i>, 1893; <i>Last Poems</i>, 1895; <i>The Anti-Slavery -Papers of James Russell Lowell</i>, 1902.</p> - -<p>Lowell resigned his professorship in 1872 and -went abroad for two years. Oxford conferred on -him the degree of D. C. L. and Cambridge that of -LL. D.; it pleased him to regard the Cambridge -degree ‘as in a measure a friendly recognition -of the University’s daughter in the American -Cambridge.’ In 1874 he returned home, and on -the opening of college was persuaded to resume -his lectures.</p> - -<p>During the presidential campaign of 1876 Lowell -became politically active in ways new to him. -He was a delegate to the Republican National -convention and a presidential elector. His fellow-townsmen -had wished him to accept a nomination -for representative in Congress; but Lowell -refused, believing himself unqualified for the post.</p> - -<p>Not long after his inauguration President Hayes, -at the instance of W. D. Howells, offered Lowell -the Austrian mission, an honor the poet felt impelled -to decline; when, however, it was learned -that he would be very willing to go to Spain, the -appointment was made. He arrived in Madrid on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_460">460</span> -August 14, 1878. Two years later he was transferred -to England. Reappointed by President -Garfield, he held this important charge until the -close of President Arthur’s administration.</p> - -<p>Few ministers have been as popular as he. And -not the least factor of his popularity in England -was his sturdy patriotism. Lowell was the author -of the essay ‘On a Certain Condescension in -Foreigners,’ an essay which an ingratiating Anglican -clergyman<a id="FNanchor_66" href="#Footnote_66" class="fnanchor">66</a> says was meant to be ‘overheard’ -in England. It were more exact to say that the -essay was meant to be heard, and heard distinctly. -‘They honor stoutness in each other,’ said Emerson, -noting the traits of the English people. And -it is not unreasonable to believe that they also -admire the same virtue in others.</p> - -<p>The summer of 1885 Lowell passed at Southborough, -forty miles from Boston, the home of his -daughter, Mrs. Burnett. He made a number of -public addresses, gave a Lowell Institute course -of lectures on the ‘Old English Dramatists,’ argued -the question of International Copyright before a -committee of the Senate, and is believed to have -had real influence in persuading representatives -of this great country that stealing is a sin. He -found himself inveigled into an author’s reading, -and humorously bewailed his weakness in ever -having written a line of poetry. The demands -upon him were enormous. It was now an effort<span class="pagenum" id="Page_461">461</span> -for him to do things, and if the grasshopper had -not yet become a burden, public occasions had, -and more than once he was obliged to beg off -from keeping a promise inconsiderately made.</p> - -<p>He enjoyed being in England for the summer, -and usually divided his time between London and -Whitby. The last of these visits took place in -1889. The ensuing winter he gave to a careful -revision of his writings. In the spring of 1890 -he was ill for six weeks, and though he recovered -enough to be able to move about a little and to -welcome his friends, serious work was out of the -question. He wrote two or three short papers, -and had strong inducements held out to him to -write more, but the time for writing was past, and -he knew it.</p> - -<p>His sufferings during his last illness were great, -but he bore them like the man he was. Lowell -died at ‘Elmwood,’ Cambridge, on August 12, -1891.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_95">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">LOWELL’S CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">‘I am</span> a kind of twins myself, divided between -grave and gay,’ said Lowell, in one of those rare -moments when he condescended to self-analysis. -The duality of temperament here pointed at is one -secret of the fascination he exerted on all who were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_462">462</span> -privileged to know him intimately. The fascination -was certainly great and the tributes to it -numerous. Lowell’s personality was so winning, -and the man was so genuine, human, and lovable, -that it is difficult to speak of him in terms having -even the semblance of impartiality. Although -strong-willed and positive, not indisposed now -and then to indulge himself in the luxury of stubbornness, -he was open-minded, wholly unselfish, -kind-hearted, affectionate, and gentle; and while -he had his reserves he was democratic in all the -best senses of the word, for his democracy sprang -from the depths of his nature. Changeable in his -moods, he could be teasing, whimsical, irritating; -but when he was most mocking and perverse he -was most delightful.</p> - -<p>There is something very attractive in Lowell’s -attitude toward literature and literary fame. Books -were an essential part of his life. He had mastered -that difficult art of <i>reading</i> as few men have mastered -it. He was rarely endowed as a poet and -prose-writer. And yet Lowell, the most complete -illustration we have of the literary man, showed no -inclination to magnify the importance of letters.</p> - -<p>As to his individual achievements, he not only -never thought of himself more highly than he -ought to think, but was the rather inclined to place -too low an estimate on the value of his work. Self-distrust -increased with years. Nevertheless, Lowell -indulged himself in no philosophy of despair. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_463">463</span> -had had much to be grateful for. ‘I have always -believed that a man’s fate is born with him, and -that he cannot escape from it nor greatly modify -it’ (Lowell once wrote to his friend Charles -Eliot Norton) ‘and that consequently every one -gets in the long run exactly what he deserves, -neither more nor less.’ Lowell goes on to say -that the creed is a ‘cheerful’ one; he might have -added that it is no less sensible and manly than it -is cheerful.</p> - -<p>Whether he found his creed satisfactory at all -times or was always conscious that he had a creed, -we cannot know, but he could be the blithest of -fatalists when it pleased him to be.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_96">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">POET AND PROSE WRITER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Lowell’s</span> prose is manly, direct, varied, flexible, -generally harmonious, abounding in passages -marked by grace, beauty, and sweetness, and capable -of rising to genuine eloquence. In its overflowing -vitality and human warmth it is an adequate -expression of the man, imaging his mocking and -humorous moods no less than his deep sincerity, -his strength of purpose, and his passion. Much -of it has the confidence and ease that go with successful -improvisation. If Lowell was ‘willing to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_464">464</span> -risk the prosperity of a verse upon a lucky throw -of words,’ he was even more willing to take like -chances with his prose.</p> - -<p>His thought ran easily into figurative form, and -the making of metaphor was as natural to him as -breathing. He would even amuse himself with -conceits, for he loved to play with language, to -force words into shapes he might perchance have -condemned had he found them in the work of -another. But if style is to be representative, this -playfulness, however annoying to Lowell’s critics, -is a virtue. A Lowell chastened in his English -and wholly academic would not be the Lowell we -rejoice in.</p> - -<p>He practised the art of poetry in many forms -and always with success. Of everything he wrote -you might say that it had been his study, though -you might refrain from saying that ‘it had been -all in all his study.’ In other words, as we read -Lowell the question never arises whether or not -the poet is working in unfamiliar materials, but -whether he might not have given his product a -higher finish, the materials and the form remaining -the same. He was no aspirant after flawless -beauty. He wrote spontaneously and was for the -time wholly possessed by his theme. But what he -had written he had written; and if never content -with the result he at least compelled himself to be -philosophical. He made a few changes, to be sure, -but (as was said of a far greater poet) he would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_465">465</span> -correct with an afterglow of poetic inspiration, not -with a painful tinkering of the verse.</p> - -<p>It is by tinkering with the verse, however (the -‘higher’ tinkering), that perfection is attained. And -he who wrote with evident ease so many lovely -and felicitous lines could as easily have bettered -lines that are wanting in finish. It was not Lowell’s -way. Too much may not be required of a man -who often felt the utmost repugnance to reading -his own writings, once they were in print.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_97">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>POEMS</i>, <i>THE BIGLOW PAPERS</i>, <i>FABLE FOR -CRITICS</i>, <i>VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Lowell’s</span> first poetic flights were strong-winged. -‘Threnodia,’ ‘The Sirens,’ ‘Summer Storm,’ ‘To -Perdita, Singing,’ whatever their faults, have a -richness, a melody, a freedom of structure, an almost -careless grace, that are captivating. Here was -no painful effort in production with the inevitable -result of frigidity and hardness.</p> - -<p>The poet’s gift matured rapidly. There is -strength in such poems as ‘Prometheus,’ ‘Columbus,’ -‘A Glance behind the Curtain,’ rare -beauty in ‘A Legend of Brittany,’ ‘Hebe,’ and -‘Rhœcus,’ a mystical power in the haunting lines -of ‘The Sower,’ passion and uplift in ‘The Present<span class="pagenum" id="Page_466">466</span> -Crisis,’ ‘Anti-Apis,’ the lines ‘To W. L. -Garrison,’ and the ‘Ode to France,’ while in -‘An Interview with Miles Standish’ is a promise -of that satirical power which was presently to find -complete expression in <i>The Biglow Papers</i>.</p> - -<p>Early in his career Lowell announced his theory -of the poet’s office, which is to inspire to high -thought and noble action, not merely to please -with pretty fancies and melodious verse. The -‘Ode,’ written in 1841, is an expression of his -poetic faith. The ethical and reforming bent in -Lowell’s character was so strong as to make it difficult -for him, true bard though he was, to look on -poetry as an art to be cultivated for itself alone.</p> - -<p>Inspiriting as were stanzas like ‘The Present -Crisis,’ Lowell’s power became most effective in -the anti-slavery struggle when the outbreak of -the Mexican War led to the writing of <i>The Biglow -Papers</i>. Printed anonymously in a journal, copied -into other newspapers, the question of their authorship -much debated, these satires were at last -adjudicated to the man who wrote them, but not -until he himself had heard it demonstrated ‘in -the pauses of a concert’ that he was wholly incapable -of such a performance.</p> - -<p>Of the characters of the little drama, Hosea -Biglow, the country youth, stands for the plain -common-sense of New England, opposed to the -extension of slavery whatever the means employed, -and above all by legalized murder with an accompaniment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_467">467</span> -of drums and fifes. The Reverend -Homer Wilbur acts as ‘chorus,’ and by his learned -comments surrounds the productions of the country -muse with an atmosphere of scholarship. Birdofredom -Sawin is the clown of the little show.</p> - -<p>Many finer touches have become obscure by -the lapse of time, and <i>The Biglow Papers</i> is now -provided with historical notes; but the energy, -the spirit, and the unfailing humor of the work are -perennial. Lowell was most fortunate in his verbal -felicities. Who could have foreseen that so much -danger lurked in a middle initial, or that a plain -name of the sort borne by the former senator from -Middlesex contained such comic potentialities?</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">We were gittin’ on nicely up here to our village,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">With good old idees o’ wut’s right an’ wut aint,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">We kind o’ thought Christ went agin war an’ pillage,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">An’ thet eppyletts worn’t the best mark of a saint;</div> - <div class="verse indent16">But John P.</div> - <div class="verse indent16">Robinson he</div> - <div class="verse indent6">Sez this kind o’ thing’s an exploded idee.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Lowell was surprised at his own success. What -he at first thought ‘a mere fencing stick’ proved -to be a weapon. The blade was two-edged, and -the Yankees did well to fall back a little when he -lifted it against the enemy. For in writing <i>The -Biglow Papers</i> Lowell took real delight in noting -the oddities and laughing at the foibles of his own -New Englanders, a people whom he loved with -all tenderness, but to whose faults he was not in -the least blind.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_468">468</span></p> - -<p>In 1861 the little puppets were taken out of -the box where they had lain for fifteen years and -furbished up for a new tragi-comedy. The second -series of <i>The Biglow Papers</i> was read no less eagerly -than the first had been. Quite as brilliant as their -predecessors, the later poems are more impassioned, -and in those touching on English hostility -to the North the satire is bitterly stinging.</p> - -<p>While the numbers of the first series were in -course of publication Lowell produced a rhymed -primer of contemporary American literature under -the title of <i>A Fable for Critics</i>. It was an improvisation, -and therefore the buoyancy, the jovial off-hand -manner, the impudence even, were a matter -of course and all in its favor. Often penetrating -and just in his criticisms, Lowell was invariably -amusing, and in the cleverness of the rhyme and -word play quite inimitable.</p> - -<p>Two months after the appearance of the <i>Fable</i> -the popular <i>Vision of Sir Launfal</i> was published. -Though undoubtedly read more for the sake of -the preludes than for the slight but touching story, -it is by no means certain that the preludes, brought -out as independent poems, could have won the -number of readers they now have. In other words, -<i>The Vision of Sir Launfal</i> has a unity which it seems -on first acquaintance to lack.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_469">469</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_98">V<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>UNDER THE WILLOWS</i>, <i>THE CATHEDRAL</i>, -<i>COMMEMORATION ODE</i>, <i>THREE MEMORIAL -POEMS</i>, <i>HEARTSEASE AND RUE</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">‘Under</span> the Willows’ is a poem of Nature in -which the poet at no time loses sight either of the -world of books or of the world of men. If he be -driven indoors by the rigors of May, he is content -to sit by his wood-fire and read what the poets -have said in praise of that inclement month. Or if -June has come and he can dream under his favorite -willows, his reveries gain a zest from the interruptions -of the tramp, ‘lavish summer’s bedesman,’ the -scissors-grinder, that grimy Ulysses of New England, -the school-children, and the road-menders,</p> - -<p class="center"> -Vexing Macadam’s ghost with pounded slate.<br /> -</p> - -<p>It is a poem of thanksgiving in which the poet -voices his gratitude for the benediction of the higher -mood and the human kindness of the lower.</p> - -<p>The volume to which ‘Under the Willows’ -gives its name is typical. He who prizes Lowell’s -verse will hardly be content with any selection -which does not include ‘Al Fresco,’ ‘A Winter-Evening -Hymn to my Fire,’ ‘Invita Minerva,’ -‘The Dead House,’ ‘The Parting of the Ways,’ -‘The Fountain of Youth,’ and ‘The Nightingale -in the Study.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_470">470</span></p> - -<p>Its manner of contrasting To-Day with Yesterday, -the genius that creates with the spirit that -analyzes, makes <i>The Cathedral</i> an essentially American -poem. The minster in its ‘vast repose,’</p> - -<p class="center"> -Silent and gray as forest-leaguered cliff,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="in0">must always seem a marvel to a dweller among -temples of ‘deal and paint.’ The poem is the -meditation of a New-World conservative, altogether -catholic of sympathies, who holds no less -firmly to the past because, under the fascination -of democracy, he breathes in the presence of the -‘backwoods Charlemagne’ a braver air and is conscious -of an ‘ampler manhood.’ And what, he -asks, will be the faith of this new avatar of the -Goth, what temples will the creature build? Very -beautiful, very suggestive, and in its shifting moods -entirely representative of the poet who wrote it -must this fine work always seem.</p> - -<p><i>The Ode recited at the Harvard Commemoration</i> -(July 21, 1865) is Lowell’s supreme achievement -in verse. It breathes the most exalted patriotism, -a love of native land that is intense, fiery, consuming. -Though written in honor of sons of the University -who had gone to the war, the spirit of the -<i>Ode</i> is not local and particular. The poet celebrates -not individual deeds alone but the sum of -those deeds, not man but <span class="locked">manhood:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">That leap of heart whereby a people rise</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Up to a noble anger’s height,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And, flamed on by the Fates, not shrink, but grow more bright,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">That swift validity in noble veins,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_471">471</span> - <div class="verse indent4">Of choosing danger and disdaining shame,</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Of being set on flame</div> - <div class="verse indent4">By the pure fire that flies all contact base,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But wraps its chosen with angelic might,</div> - <div class="verse indent8">These are imperishable gains,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Sure as the sun, medicinal as light,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">These hold great futures in their lusty reins</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And certify to earth a new imperial race.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="in0">The mingling of proud humility, tenderness, and -reverence, the throbbing passion and the exultant -fervor of the concluding verses, lift this ode to a -high place in American poetry, it may be to the -highest place. To the many, however, the chief -value of <i>The Commemoration Ode</i> lies in the stanza -on Lincoln. So just as an estimate of character, so -restrained in its accents of praise, American in all -finer meanings of the word, splendid in its imagery -and poignant in the note of grief, this beautiful -tribute to the great president is final and satisfying.</p> - -<p>The first of the <i>Three Memorial Poems</i> is an -‘Ode, read at the One Hundredth Anniversary of -the Fight at Concord.’</p> - -<p>In the opening stanzas on Freedom the poet -strikes the notes of exultation fitting the time and -the place, then passes to those inevitable allusions -which appeal to local pride (and Lowell handles -this passage with utmost skill), draws the lesson -that must of necessity be drawn from the ‘home-spun -deeds’ of the men of old, makes Freedom -utter her warning to the men of the present, and, -no prophet of evil, closes in the triumphant spirit -in which he began.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_472">472</span></p> - -<p>‘Under the Old Elm’ is a magnificent tribute -to a man so great that there is need of odes like -this to help us comprehend his greatness. After -calling up the scene when Washington, ‘a stranger -among strangers,’ stood beneath that legendary -tree to take command of his army, ‘all of captains,’ -a motley rout, valorous deacons, selectmen, and village -heroes among others, more skilled in debating -their orders than obeying them, good fighters all, -but ‘serious drill’s despair,’—the poet chants -those beautiful lines in which is drawn the distinction -between ‘Nation’ and ‘Country.’ The one -is fashioned of computable things, good each in its -kind and important in its <span class="locked">place:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">But Country is a shape of each man’s mind</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Sacred from definition, unconfined</div> - <div class="verse indent0">By the cramped walls where daily drudgeries grind;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">An inward vision, yet an outward birth</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of sweet familiar heaven and earth;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A brooding Presence that stirs motions blind</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of wings within our embryo being’s shell</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That wait but her completer spell</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To make us eagle-natured, fit to dare</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Life’s nobler spaces and untarnished air.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">You who hold dear this self-conceived ideal,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Whose faith and works alone can make it real,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Bring all your fairest gifts to deck her shrine</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Who lifts our lives away from Thine and Mine</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And feeds the lamp of manhood more divine</div> - <div class="verse indent0">With fragrant oils of quenchless constancy.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">When all have done their utmost, surely he</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Hath given the best who gives a character</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Erect and constant, which nor any shock</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of loosened elements, nor the forceful sea</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of flowing or of ebbing fates, can stir</div> - <div class="verse indent0">From its deep bases in the living rock</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of ancient manhood’s sweet security....</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_473">473</span></p> -<p class="in0">And the poet longs for skill to praise him fitly -whom he does fitly praise in the stanzas that follow. -It is a thoughtful, nobly eloquent, and poetically -beautiful characterization of the great Virginian, -and appropriately closes with a fine apostrophe -to the historic Commonwealth from which Washington -sprang.</p> - -<p>The ‘Ode for the Fourth of July, 1876,’ though -not lacking in forceful lines and fine imagery, is -the least happy of the three poems. The questioning -and critical mood is prominent. But the -spirit of confidence prevails and is voiced in the -invocation with which the ode concludes.</p> - -<p>Various notes are touched in the collection of -eighty-eight poems to which its author gave the -title of <i>Heartsease and Rue</i>. Here are verses new -and old, grave and gay, satirical, humorous, sentimental, -and elegiac, epigrams, inscriptions, lyrics, -poems of occasion, sonnets, epistles, and, chief -among them, the ode written on hearing the news -of the death of Agassiz. Whether, as has been asserted, -‘this poem takes its place with the few great -elegies in our language, gives a hand to “Lycidas” -and to “Thyrsis,”’ is a question to be decided by -the suffrages of many good critics, rather than by -the dictum of one. There is no doubt, however, -that by virtue of its human quality, depth of personal -feeling, sincerity in the accent of bereavement, -and felicity of phrase, the ‘Agassiz’ will always -stand in the first rank of Lowell’s greater verse.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_474">474</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_99">VI<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>FIRESIDE TRAVELS</i>, <i>MY STUDY WINDOWS</i>, -<i>AMONG MY BOOKS</i>, <i>LATEST LITERARY -ESSAYS</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><i>Fireside Travels</i> is so entertaining a book as to -make one wish that Lowell had chronicled more -of his journeyings at home and abroad in the same -amusing style. Two of the six essays—‘Cambridge -Thirty Years Ago’ and ‘A Moosehead -Journal’—take the form of letters addressed to -the author’s friend, ‘the Edelmann Storg’ (W. W. -Story). The others are grouped under the general -title of ‘Leaves from my Journal in Italy -and Elsewhere.’</p> - -<p>One spirit animates the pages of this book,—a -love of plain people, homely adventures, everyday -sights and sounds. In a half-serious way (as -if to show that he knows how to ‘do’ a tempest -in the mountains or an illumination of St. Peter’s) -Lowell throws in a number of unconventional -passages on entirely conventional themes. But -the strength of the book lies in the sympathetic -and humorous accounts of that protean animal -Man, who, whether he showed himself in the -guise of a denizen of Old Cambridge, or of Uncle -Zeb, who had been ‘to the ‘Roostick war,’ or of -the Chief Mate of the packet ship, or of Leopoldo,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_475">475</span> -the Italian guide, was more interesting to -Lowell than any other object of his study.</p> - -<p>Together with <i>Fireside Travels</i> may be read -‘My Garden Acquaintance’ and ‘A Good Word -for Winter,’ from <i>My Study Windows</i>, gossipy -papers on Nature by one who looked on ‘a great -deal of the modern sentimentalism about Nature -as a mark of disease ... one more symptom -of the general liver complaint.’ The sincerity of -Lowell’s love of birds, beasts, flowers, trees, the sky -and the landscape, admits of no question. Yet he -approached Nature more or less through literature, -as was becoming in a man brought up on White’s -<i>Selborne</i>; and he seems his characteristic self when, -having pulled a chair out under a tree, he sits there -with a volume of Chaucer in his hands, looking up -from the page now and then to watch his feathered -neighbors, and make wise and humorous comments -on their doings.</p> - -<p><i>Among My Books</i> is a volume of literary and -historical studies, six in number, entitled respectively, -‘Dryden,’ ‘Witchcraft,’ ‘Shakespeare -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Once More,’ ‘New England Two Centuries Ago,’</span><br /> -‘Lessing,’ ‘Rousseau and the Sentimentalists.’ All -are in Lowell’s best manner, and the ‘Dryden’ -and ‘Shakespeare’ are particularly fine examples of -those leisurely, stimulating, and always brilliant -literary studies which this scholar knew so well -how to write.</p> - -<p>Of the thirteen papers in <i>My Study Windows</i><span class="pagenum" id="Page_476">476</span> -that on ‘Abraham Lincoln’<a id="FNanchor_67" href="#Footnote_67" class="fnanchor">67</a> and the one ‘On a -Certain Condescension in Foreigners’ have a political -bearing; those on ‘A Great Public Character’ -(Josiah Quincy) and ‘Emerson the Lecturer’ -are studies in personality; the ‘Library of Old -Authors’ is an exercise in textual criticism, a merciless -arraignment of certain unfortunate editors; -the ‘Carlyle,’ ‘James Gates Percival,’ ‘Thoreau,’ -‘Swinburne’s Tragedies,’ ‘Chaucer,’ and ‘Pope’ -are studies in literary history and interpretation.</p> - -<p><i>Among My Books</i>, ‘second series,’ contains five -essays. More than a third of the volume is devoted -to a study of ‘Dante,’ elaborate and exhaustive—as -the word ‘exhaustive’ might be used in -speaking of an essay not of a book. Then follows -a most sympathetic essay on ‘Spenser,’ together -with papers on ‘Milton,’ ‘Wordsworth,’ and -‘Keats.’</p> - -<p>Of Lowell’s critical writings as a whole it may -be said that better reading does not exist; and -among the virtues of these essays is their length. -Lowell would have been ill at ease in the limits of -three or four thousand words too often imposed -by the editors of our current magazines. He might -even have been scornful of a public taste which -dictated to editors to dictate to their contributors -limits so narrow. Writing from the fulness of a -well-stored mind, he liked room in which to display<span class="pagenum" id="Page_477">477</span> -his thought. Having much to say, he did not -scruple to take time to say it; but the time always -goes quickly. He understood perfectly the art -of beguiling one into forgetting the hours as they -pass.</p> - -<p>These essays, so rich in critical suggestiveness, -abound in matter-of-fact knowledge. We read for -information and get it. Lowell shares with us the -wealth of his acquaintance with books. His manner -is unostentatious. Macaulay staggers us with -his array of facts and his range of allusion. We -are overwhelmed, intellectually cowed by the display -of knowledge. Lowell too astonishes, but -only after a while. Macaulay declaims at his reader, -Lowell converses with him. All is so easy, good-humored, -and witty, that the reader for a moment -labors under the mistake of supposing that he is -being instructed less than he would like. Later -he begins to count up his mental gains, and is surprised -at the display they make.</p> - -<p>Another obvious source of pleasure is the felicity -of expression. Lowell had the courage of his -cleverness. Brilliancy was natural to him. He -defended the practice of piquant phrasing, maintaining -that a thought is not wanting in depth -because it is strikingly put. Doubtless he loved -an ingenious turn for its own sake, but it would -be difficult to find an instance of his making a -display of verbal vivacity to conceal poverty of -thought.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_478">478</span></p> - -<p>These pages bear constant witness to Lowell’s -passion for books, a passion too genuine and deep-seated -to admit of any doubt on his part of the -worth of literature. He had none of Emerson’s -scepticism, who held that if people would only -think, they might do without books. The dullest -proser and most leaden-winged poet could not -make Lowell despair.</p> - -<p>A number of essays display no little of the severity -which we have learned to associate with -reviewing after the manner of Jeffrey and Lockhart. -Yet these caustic passages were written by -a man who said of himself that he had ‘to fight -the temptation to be too good-natured.’ Priggishness -was as absurd to him in scholarship and -letters as elsewhere, and he never lost a chance to -give it a touch of the whip. Happily there is little -of this. Lowell was almost uniformly urbane, gracious, -reasonable.</p> - -<p>If his subject was a great one Lowell treated it -in a great way; if circumscribed and provincial he -enlarged its boundaries—as in the essay on ‘James -Gates Percival,’ where a subject of small intrinsic -worth becomes a study of the American literary -mind at one of its periods of acute self-consciousness, -useful historically and tending to present-day -edification. Needless to say, Lowell enjoyed handling -this topic. He liked to satirize the early -American authors and critics, solemn and important -over their great work of inaugurating a New-World<span class="pagenum" id="Page_479">479</span> -literature and quite convinced that, since -‘that little driblet of the Avon had succeeded in -producing William Shakespeare,’ something unusual -was to be expected of the Mississippi River.</p> - -<p>Although Lowell’s standing as a critic rests on -such writings as his ‘Dryden,’ ‘Shakespeare,’ -‘Chaucer,’ ‘Spenser,’ ‘Pope,’ and ‘Dante,’ the -amateur of good literature cannot afford to neglect -anything to which this fine scholar put his hand.</p> - -<p>The later volumes contain some of his most -illuminating criticism (notably in the ‘Fielding,’ -‘Don Quixote,’ ‘Gray,’ ‘Walton,’ and ‘Landor’), -and his style seems the perfection of ease and -suppleness. Doubtless it is negligent now and -then, but always with the winning negligence of a -master in the difficult art of expression.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_100">VII<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>POLITICAL ADDRESSES AND PAPERS</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><i>The Anti-Slavery Papers</i> consists of editorial articles -reprinted from ‘The Pennsylvania Freeman,’ -and ‘The Anti-Slavery Standard.’<a id="FNanchor_68" href="#Footnote_68" class="fnanchor">68</a> Witty, -ironical, and pungent, these fugitive leaves are of -value for the light they throw on the history of the -struggle maintained by the Abolitionists against -their powerful enemies both in the North and in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_480">480</span> -the South, as well as for the idea they give of the -militant Lowell at a time when to conviction of -the justness of the cause for which he fought was -added a measure of joyousness in the mere act of -fighting.</p> - -<p>Of greater significance is the volume of <i>Political -Essays</i>, twelve papers written at intervals between -1858 and 1866. Designed for the most part to -serve an immediate purpose, and betraying in every -page the writer’s depth of feeling, intensity of patriotism, -and strong but not bigoted Northern convictions, -these essays, by their acuteness of insight, -balanced judgment, admirable temper, and wealth -of allusion, as well as by their literary flavor and -their occasional eloquence, hold a permanent place -not only among Lowell’s best writings but among -the best of the innumerable political papers called -out by the Civil War.</p> - -<p>Of Lowell’s later political utterances none is more -notable than the address on ‘Democracy,’ delivered -at Birmingham in 1884, a cleverly phrased and -thoughtful speech in which the American minister -defended the democratic idea with logic as adroit -as it was sound. That the source of American -democracy was the English constitution must have -been news to a part at least of his English audience. -It was a happy thought of Lowell’s to show how -stable democracy might be as a system of government. -He made the argument from expediency, -that ‘it is cheaper in the long run to lift men up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_481">481</span> -than to hold them down, and that a ballot in their -hands is less dangerous to society than a sense of -wrong in their heads.’ He would not have been -Lowell had he not also shown that a democracy -has its finer instincts, or failed to recognize the fact -that as an experiment in the art of government it -must stand or fall by its own merits. And the -whole address is strongly optimistic, in its insistence -that ‘those who have the divine right to -govern will be found to govern in the end.’</p> - -<p>The address on ‘The Place of the Independent -in Politics’ supplements the Birmingham address. -As Lowell before an English audience had dwelt -on ‘the good points and favorable aspect of democracy,’ -so before a home audience he discussed -its weak points and its dangers. He thought the -system would bear investigation. At no time did -he labor under the mistake of supposing that democracy -was a contrivance which ran of its own -accord. Parties there must be and politicians to -look after them, but it is no less essential that -there should be somebody to look after the politicians. -The address is a plea for unselfishness in -political action.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Admirers of Lowell find it easy to believe that -of all American makers of verse he had the most -of what is called inspiration. With less catholic -tastes he might have become a greater poet and -would undoubtedly have been a finer artist. But<span class="pagenum" id="Page_482">482</span> -granting that it was a matter of choice, and that -Lowell had elected to make mastery in verse (with -all the sacrifices involved) the object of his life, how -serious then would have been the loss to criticism -and to politics. The Lowell we know, with his -extraordinary mental vivacity, his grasp of a multitude -of interests that make for culture, is surely -a more engaging figure than the hypothetical -Lowell of purely poetical achievement.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_63" href="#FNanchor_63" class="fnanchor">63</a> Keith Spence was born at Kirkwall, Orkney. Mrs. Lowell -had Orcadian ancestors on both sides of the house, her maternal -grandfather, Robert Traill, having also come from Orkney.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_64" href="#FNanchor_64" class="fnanchor">64</a> January, February, and March, 1843.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_65" href="#FNanchor_65" class="fnanchor">65</a> Scudder.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_66" href="#FNanchor_66" class="fnanchor">66</a> H. R. Haweis: <i>American Humorists</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_67" href="#FNanchor_67" class="fnanchor">67</a> The remarkable paper on Lincoln was afterwards transferred -to the volume of <i>Political Essays</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_68" href="#FNanchor_68" class="fnanchor">68</a> January, 1845, to November, 1850.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_485">485</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="chaplink_19" class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XIX">XIX<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>WALT WHITMAN</i></span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="references"> - -<h3>REFERENCES:</h3> - -<p><b>John Burroughs</b>: <i>Notes on Walt Whitman as Poet and -Person</i>, second edition, 1871.</p> - -<p><b>R. M. Bucke</b>: <i>Walt Whitman</i>, 1883.</p> - -<p><b>W. S. Kennedy</b>: <i>Reminiscences of Walt Whitman</i>, 1896.</p> - -<p><b>I. H. Platt</b>: <i>Walt Whitman</i>, ‘Beacon Biographies,’ 1904.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="sec_101">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HIS LIFE</span></h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Walter Whitman</span> (commonly known as -Walt) was born at West Hills, a village in -Huntington Township, Long Island, on May 31, -1819. He was a son of Walter Whitman, a carpenter -and house-builder, who followed his trade -chiefly in New York and Brooklyn. The Long -Island Whitmans claim descent from the Reverend -Zechariah Whitman, who came to America in -1635, and settled at Milford, Connecticut. Zechariah’s -son Joseph crossed the Sound ‘sometime -before 1660,’ and may have been the original purchaser -of the farm where successive generations of -his descendants lived, and where the poet was born.</p> - -<p>Blended with this English blood was that of -a line of Dutch ancestors. Whitman’s mother, -Louisa Van Velsor, daughter of Cornelius Van<span class="pagenum" id="Page_486">486</span> -Velsor of Cold Spring Harbor, was of ‘the old -race of the Netherlands, so deeply grafted on -Manhattan Island and in Kings and Queens -counties.’ The Van Velsors were noted for their -horses, and in her youth Louisa was a daring rider.</p> - -<p>Whitman’s education was such as a Brooklyn -public school of the early Thirties afforded. After -a little experience as an office-boy he learned to set -type. To vary the monotony of life at the composing-case -he taught in country schools or worked -at farming. Occasionally he dabbled in literature, -publishing tales and essays in the ‘Democratic -Review.’ In 1839 he started at Huntington a -‘weekly’ paper, the ‘Long Islander,’ publishing it -at such intervals as pleased him best. For a time -he edited the ‘Brooklyn Eagle’ (1848), diverting -himself in the intervals of journalistic work with -‘an occasional shy at “poetry.”’</p> - -<p>Nomadic by instinct and of a curious and inquiring -turn of mind, Whitman, accompanied by his -brother Jeff, made ‘a leisurely journey and working -expedition’ through the Middle States, down -the Ohio and Mississippi to New Orleans, returning -in the same deliberate manner by the Great -Lakes, Lower Canada, and the Hudson. During -his stay in New Orleans (1849–50) he was an editorial -writer on the’ Crescent.’ In Brooklyn (1850–51) -he edited and published a paper called ‘The -Freeman,’ then for three or four years he built -and sold small houses.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_487">487</span></p> - -<p>The first edition of the extraordinary and notorious -<i>Leaves of Grass</i> (for which Whitman himself -helped to set the type) appeared in 1855, and was -described by Emerson to Carlyle as ‘a nondescript -monster, which yet had terrible eyes and buffalo -strength, and was indisputably American.’ An -enlarged edition appeared in 1856, to be followed -by yet a third in 1860. The sales were slow and -the reviews for the most part hostile and often -abusive.</p> - -<p>There was some discussion in the Whitman -family over the merits of the book. The poet’s -brother, George Whitman, said in after years: ‘I remember -mother comparing Hiawatha to Walt’s, -and the one seemed to us pretty much the same -muddle as the other. Mother said if Hiawatha -was poetry, perhaps Walt’s was.’<a id="FNanchor_69" href="#Footnote_69" class="fnanchor">69</a></p> - -<p>In 1862 George Whitman was wounded at the -first battle of Fredericksburg. Walt went immediately -to the front to care for him. His sympathies -were enlisted by the sight of the misery on -every hand and he became a volunteer army nurse, -serving for three years in the hospitals in Washington. -‘He saved many lives’ was the testimony of -a surgeon who had observed Whitman at his work. -But his powerful physique broke under the strain, -and a severe illness followed.</p> - -<p>When he recovered, a clerkship was given him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_488">488</span> -in the Department of the Interior; he was presently -removed on the charge (it is said) of having -written an indecent book.<a id="FNanchor_70" href="#Footnote_70" class="fnanchor">70</a> A place was immediately -found for him in the Attorney General’s office, -and this place he held until he was stricken by partial -paralysis early in 1873.</p> - -<p>From 1873 until his death Whitman lived in -Camden, New Jersey, at first making his home -with his soldier brother, George, later setting up -an establishment of his own at 328 Mickle Street. -He never married, having an ‘overmastering passion -for entire freedom, unconstraint; I had -an instinct against forming ties that would bind -me.’</p> - -<p>The following list of Whitman’s writings conveys -no idea of the interest attaching to them as -bibliographical curiosities, but will perhaps answer -the needs of the student.</p> - -<p><i>Leaves of Grass</i>, 1855 (second edition, 1856; -third, 1860–61; fourth, 1867; fifth, 1871); <i>Walt -Whitman’s Drum-Taps</i> and its <i>Sequel</i>, 1865–66; -<i>Democratic Vistas</i>, 1871; <i>After All not to Create -Only</i>, 1871; <i>Passage to India</i>, 1871; <i>As a Strong<span class="pagenum" id="Page_489">489</span> -Bird on Pinions Free</i>, 1872; <i>Memoranda during the -War</i>, 1875–76; <i>Two Rivulets</i> (prose and verse), -1876; <i>Specimen Days and Collect</i>, 1882–83; <i>November -Boughs</i> (prose and verse), 1888; <i>Good-Bye My -Fancy</i>, 1891; <i>Calamus: A Series of Letters ... to -a young friend (Peter Doyle)</i>, 1897; <i>The Wound -Dresser</i>, 1898.</p> - -<p>The storm of opposition which greeted Whitman’s -earlier work gradually subsided, and he -became a notable figure among contemporary men -of letters. He was invited to read original poems -on public occasions, such as the opening of the -American Institute (1871), the Commencement -at Dartmouth College (1872), and the Commencement -at Tufts College (1874). In later years he -enjoyed literary canonization in a small way. Many -pilgrims visited the bard in his unpoetical house -in Camden. Worshippers came from England to -pay him homage and incidentally to rail at Americans -for neglecting one of their few geniuses, -stolidly ignoring the fact that they themselves had -neglected not a few of their many geniuses. And -before Walt Whitman died (March 26, 1892) he -had tasted some of the delights of fame.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_490">490</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_102">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE GROWTH OF A REPUTATION</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Being</span> prejudiced in favor of metre and rhyme, -probably from long experience of verse written -in the conservative way, an old-fashioned world -did not welcome <i>Leaves of Grass</i> with enthusiasm. -A few discerning spirits saw in Whitman -the promise of mighty things. Emerson greeted -him ‘at the beginning of a great career;’ but -when the poet had these words from a private -letter stamped in gilt capitals on the cover of his -next volume, Emerson (it is thought) was a little -dismayed.</p> - -<p>Not only did the form of the poems offend, but -the content as well. There were lines calculated to -disconcert even such people as were not, in their -own opinion, prudish. The lines were comparatively -few in number, but they were there in unabashed -nakedness, and <i>Leaves of Grass</i>, it may -be assumed, often went on a top shelf instead of -on the sitting-room table along with innocuous -poets like Tennyson and Longfellow.</p> - -<p>Neglect and abuse raised up for Whitman in -time a small battalion of champions, fierce, determined, -uncompromising, militant. Among them -were men whose attitude towards literature was -catholic and liberal. For the most part they were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_491">491</span> -Whitmanites, hot as lovers, quarrelsome as bullies, -biting their thumbs at every passer-by.</p> - -<p>Literary championship has one good effect: it -keeps the public, gorged with novels of the day, -from quite going to sleep. There is always a -chance that some open-minded reader will be -stirred by the clash of critical arms to look into the -affair that is causing so great a pother. Better to -be advertised by the crowd of swashbucklers who -clattered about wearing Whitman’s colors than not -to be advertised at all. The public concluded that -a man who could inspire loyalty like this must be -worth while. Whitman’s audience and influence -grew. The bodyguard pretty much lost the power -to see virtue in any poet save its own, but it had -succeeded in arresting public attention.</p> - -<p>In 1876 a number of English admirers subscribed -freely to the new edition of Whitman’s -writings and garnished their guineas with comfortable -words. The poet was sick, poor, discouraged, -and by his own grateful testimony this show of -interest put new heart into him—‘saved my life,’ -he said. It might well have had that effect, since -no less names than those of Tennyson, Ruskin, -Rossetti, and Lord Houghton were to be found -in the list of subscribers. Even Robert Buchanan, -who assailed with virulence the author of ‘Jenny,’ -had no scruple in bidding God speed to the author -of the ‘Song of Myself’ and ‘Children of Adam.’</p> - -<p>A momentary set-back occurred in 1882, when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_492">492</span> -Whitman’s Boston publisher was threatened with -prosecution. ‘The official mind’ declared that it -would be content if two poems were suppressed, -the poems in question resembling in some particulars -the stories an English editor omitted from -the <i>Thousand-and-One Nights</i>, on the ground that -they were ‘interesting only to Arabs and old gentlemen.’ -Whitman refused to omit so much as a -word, and the book was transferred to a Philadelphia -publishing house.</p> - -<p>After 1882 Whitman found himself able to -publish freely and without the fear of the district -attorney before his eyes. Since his death he has -been accorded a niche in the American literary -pantheon, if we may believe the critics, who now -treat his work with the confidence which marks -their attitude towards Lowell or Longfellow.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_103">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE WRITER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Unless</span> indeed, as some maintain, Whitman got -the suggestion of a rhapsodical form from the -once famous <i>Poems of Ossian</i>, he may be said to -have invented his own ‘verse.’ These unrhymed -and unmetred chants give a pleasure the degree -of which is largely determined by the reader’s willingness -to allow Whitman to speak in his own<span class="pagenum" id="Page_493">493</span> -manner and wholly without reference to time-honored -modes of poetic expression. Such receptivity -of mind is indispensable.</p> - -<p>Whitman called his rhapsodies ‘poems,’ ‘chants,’ -or ‘songs’ indifferently; the last term was a favorite -with him, in later editions; he has a ‘Song -of the Open Road,’ a ‘Song of the Broad-Axe,’ -a ‘Song for Occupations,’ a ‘Song of the Rolling -Earth,’ a ‘Song of Myself,’ a ‘Song of the Exposition,’ -a ‘Song of the Redwood-Tree,’ ‘Songs -of Parting,’ and yet more songs. Obviously he -used the word without reference to the traditional -meaning. Says Whitman: ‘... it is not on <i>Leaves -of Grass</i> distinctively as <i>literature</i>, or a specimen -thereof, that I feel to dwell, or advance claims. -No one will get at my verses who insists upon -viewing them as a literary performance, or attempt -at such performance, or as aiming mainly toward -art or æstheticism.’ Holding as he did that so -long as ‘the States’ were dominated by the poetic -ideals of the Old World they would stop short -of first-class nationality, his own practice necessarily -involved getting rid, first of all, of the forms in -which poetry had hitherto found expression.</p> - -<p>That the structure of Whitman’s rhapsodies is -determined by some law cannot be questioned. -After one has read these pieces many times, he -will find himself instinctively expecting a certain -cadence. The change of a word spoils it, the introduction -of a rhyme is intolerable. They who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_494">494</span> -are versed in Whitman’s style can probably detect -at once a variation from his best manner. That -his peculiarities in the arrangement of words are -very subtile is plain from a glance at the numerous -and generally unsuccessful parodies of <i>Leaves -of Grass</i>. The parodists have not grasped Whitman’s -secret. Merely to write in irregular lines -and begin each line with a capital is to represent -only the obvious and superficial side. Whitman -is inimitable even in his catalogues. The ninth -stanza of ‘I Sing the Body Electric’ reads like -an extract from a papal anathema, but it has the -Whitmanesque quality; no one can reproduce it. -The imitations of Whitman are always amusing -and often ingenious, but they are not, like Lewis -Carroll’s ‘Three Voices,’ true parodies.</p> - -<p>Whitman probably did not know every step of -the process by which he attained his results. He -was a poet who created his own laws and had no -philosophy of poetic form to expound.</p> - -<h3 id="sec_104">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>LEAVES OF GRASS</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">A first</span> impression of <i>Leaves of Grass</i> is of uncouthness -and blatancy, together with something -yet more objectionable. The writer would seem to -be a man fond of shocking what are called the proprieties,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_495">495</span> -so frank and egregious is his animalism, -so overpowering his self-assertiveness.</p> - -<p>The author of <i>Laus Veneris</i> accuses Whitman -of indecency. The charge is a grave one and emanates -from a high source. The distinguished English -poet admits that there are few subjects which -‘may not be treated with success;’ but the treatment -is everything. This is ‘a radical and fundamental -truth of criticism.’ Whitman’s indecency -then consists not so much in the choice of the -subject as in the awkwardness of the touch. Or as -Swinburne puts it with characteristic emphasis: -‘Under the dirty paws of a harper whose plectrum -is a muck-rake any tune will become a chaos of -discords, though the motive of the tune should be -the first principle of nature—the passion of man -for woman or the passion of woman for man.’</p> - -<p>But along with that first impression of Whitman’s -verse as the product of a strong, coarse -nature, wilfully brutal at times, comes the no less -marked impression that the man is serenely honest, -and animated by a benevolence which helps -to relieve the brutality of its most repulsive features. -At all events, Whitman is what Carlyle -might have described as ‘one of the palpablest of -Facts in this miserable world where so much is -Invertebrate and Phantasmal.’ Whether we like -him or not, Whitman is by no means one of those -neutral literary persons who are in danger of being -overlooked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_496">496</span></p> - -<p>In fact, the word ‘literary’ as applied to the -author of <i>Leaves of Grass</i> is singularly inept. -Whitman is not literary, that is to say he is not a -product of libraries. No meek and reverent follower -of poets gone before is this. ‘He has no -literary ancestor, he is an ancestor himself’—or -at least takes the attitude of one. He is a son -of earth, a genuine autochthon, naked and not -ashamed, noisy, vociferous, naïvely delighted with -the music of his own raucous voice.</p> - -<p>In that first great rhapsody, ‘Poem of Walt -Whitman, an American,’<a id="FNanchor_71" href="#Footnote_71" class="fnanchor">71</a> we have the most -characteristic expression of his genius. He proclaims -his interest in all that concerns mankind—not -a cold, objective interest merely, he is himself -a part of the mighty pageant of life, sympathetic -with every phase of joy and sorrow, identifying -himself with high and low, finding nothing mean -or contemptible. He states the idea with a hundred -variations, returns upon it, sets it in new -lights, enforces it. Every phenomenon of human -life teaches this lesson. Every pleasure, every -grief, every experience small or great concerns him. -He identifies himself with the life of the most miserable -of <span class="locked">creatures:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent28">I am possess’d!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Embody all presences outlaw’d or suffering,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">See myself in prison shaped like another man,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And feel the dull unintermitted pain.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_497">497</span></p> -<p>He carries the process of identification too far -at times, leading to results that would be disgusting -were they not laughably grotesque. Whitman -makes no reservations on the score of taste.</p> - -<p>This doctrine of the unity of being and experience -is comprehensive, not limited to human life; -the brute and insentient existences are included as -well. For a statement of Whitman’s creed take -the poem beginning: ‘There was a child went -forth.’ If a busy man were ambitious to know -something about Whitman’s poetry and had only -a minimum of time to give to the subject (like -Franklin when he undertook to post up on revealed -religion), one would not hesitate to commend -to his notice this poem as one of the first to -be read. The theme is contained in the four introductory -lines. All that follows is an amplification -of a single <span class="locked">thought:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">There was a child went forth every day,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And the first object he look’d upon, that object he became,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of the day,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Every object grows incorporate with the child, -an essential inseparable part of him,—the early -lilacs, the noisy brood of the barnyard, people, -home, the family usages, doubts even (doubts -‘whether that which appears is so, or is it all -flashes and specks?’), the streets, the shops, -the crowd surging along, shadows and mist, and -boats and waves,</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_498">498</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The strata of color’d clouds, the long bar of maroon-tint away solitary by itself, the spread of purity it lies motionless in,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The horizon’s edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance of salt marsh and shore mud,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes, and will always go forth every day.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The idea has another setting in ‘Salut au -Monde,’ Walt Whitman’s brotherly wave of the -hand to the whole world. It is a vision of kingdoms -and nations, comprehensive, detailed; it is -geography and the catalogue raised to the dignity -of eloquence. Latitude and longitude and the hot -equator ‘banding the bulge of the earth’ acquire -new meaning in this strange chant. The poet hears -the myriad sound of the life of all <span class="locked">peoples:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I hear the Arab muezzin calling from the top of the mosque,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I hear the Christian priests at the altars of their churches, I hear the responsive bass and soprano,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I hear the Hebrew reading his records and psalms,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I hear the rhythmic myths of the Greeks, and the strong legends of the Romans,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I hear the tale of the divine life and the bloody death of the beautiful God the Christ,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I hear the Hindoo teaching his favorite pupil the loves, wars, adages, transmitted safely to this day from poets who wrote three thousand years ago.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="in0">The mountains, the rivers, the stormy seas, the -pageant of fallen empires and ancient religions, -of cities and plains, all sweep past in this survey -of the world. And to all, <span class="locked">salutation:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">My spirit has pass’d in compassion and determination around the whole earth,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I have look’d for equals and lovers and found them ready for me in all lands,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I think some divine rapport has equalized me with them.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_499">499</span></p> -<p>The ‘Song of the Open Road,’ which may very -well be read next, is a challenge to a larger life -than that which conventions, and modes, and -common social habits will <span class="locked">permit:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Listening to others, considering well what they say,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It is no journey of ease to which the poet invites -his followers; he offers none of the ‘old -smooth <span class="locked">prizes:’—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">My call is the call of battle, I nourish active rebellion,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">He going with me must go well arm’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies, desertion.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Notable among Whitman’s best poems, and -most important to an understanding of him, is the -‘Song of the Answerer,’ that is to say, of the -Poet. He it is who puts things in their right <span class="locked">relations:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Every existence has its idiom, every thing has an idiom and a tongue,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">He resolves all tongues into his own and bestows it upon men.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="in0">The Answerer is quite other than the Singer—he -is more powerful, his existence is more significant, -his words are of weight and <span class="locked">insight:—</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_500">500</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The words of the singers are the hours or minutes of the light or dark, but the words of the maker of poems are the general light and dark,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The maker of poems settles justice, reality, immortality,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">His insight and power encircle things and the human race,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">He is the glory and extract thus far of things and of the human race.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In that fine rhapsody ‘By Blue Ontario’s -Shore’ Whitman restates his doctrine while applying -it to the need of his own <span class="locked">America:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Rhymes and rhymers pass away, poems distill’d from poems pass away,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The swarms of reflectors and the polite pass, and leave ashes,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Admirers, importers, obedient persons, make but the soil of literature,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">America justifies itself, give it time, no disguise can deceive it or conceal from it, it is impassive enough,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Only toward the likes of itself will it advance to meet them,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">If its poets appear it will in due time advance to meet them, there is no fear of mistake,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">(The proof of a poet shall be sternly deferr’d till his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorb’d it.)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>‘By Blue Ontario’s Shore,’ from which these -lines are taken, is a chant for America. Patriotism -is Whitman’s darling theme. Love of native land, -confidence in democracy, the self-sufficiency of -the Republic and the certainty of its future—with -these ideas and with this spirit his verse is -charged to the <span class="locked">full:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">A breed whose proof is in time and deeds,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">What we are we are, nativity is answer enough to objections,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">We wield ourselves as a weapon is wielded,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">We are powerful and tremendous in ourselves,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">We are executive in ourselves, we are sufficient in the variety of ourselves,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_501">501</span> - <div class="verse indent0">We are the most beautiful to ourselves and in ourselves,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">We stand self-pois’d in the middle, branching thence over the world,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">From Missouri, Nebraska, or Kansas, laughing attacks to scorn.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="in0">America is safe, thought Whitman, so long as she -does her own work in her own way and cultivates -a wholesome fear of civilization.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">America, curious toward foreign characters, stands by its own at all hazards,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Stands removed, spacious, composite, sound, initiates the true use of precedents,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Does not repel them or the past or what they have produced under their forms,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">These States are the amplest poem,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Here is not merely a nation but a teeming Nation of nations,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Here the doings of men correspond with the broadcast doings of the day and night,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Here is what moves in magnificent masses careless of particulars,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Here are the roughs, beards, friendliness, combativeness, the soul loves,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Here the flowing trains, here the crowds, equality, diversity, the soul loves.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>One of the most magnificent of Whitman’s -patriotic chants is that known by its opening line, -‘As a Strong Bird on Pinions Free.’ He would -be a hardened sceptic who, after reading these -superb and uplifting verses, found himself still -unconverted to some portion of the gospel of -poetry as preached by Walt Whitman. There is -no resisting the man here, or when he shows his -power in pieces like ‘Proud Music of the Storm,’ -‘Passage to India,’ ‘The Mystic Trumpeter,’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_502">502</span> -‘With Husky-Haughty Lips, O Sea!’ ‘To the -Man-of-War-Bird,’ ‘Song of the Universal,’ and -‘Chanting the Square Deific.’</p> - -<p>Admirable, even wonderful, as these verses are, -it may be after all that the little volume called -<i>Drum-Taps</i> (together with its <i>Sequel</i>) is Whitman’s -best gift to the literature of his country. -Vivid pictures of battle-field, camp, and hospital, -they are not to be forgotten by him who has once -looked on them. The ‘Prelude,’ ‘Cavalry Crossing -a Ford,’ ‘By the Bivouac’s Fitful Flame,’ ‘The -Dresser,’ the impressive ‘Vigil strange I kept on -the field one night,’ and the no less striking ‘A -march in the ranks hard-prest, and the road unknown,’ -together with ‘As toilsome I wander’d -Virginia’s woods,’ the ‘Hymn of Dead Soldiers,’ -and ‘Spirit whose Work is Done,’—these and -many more have accomplished for Whitman’s -reputation what the ‘Song of Myself’ and kindred -poems could not.</p> - -<p>In <i>Drum-Taps</i> appeared the tributes to Lincoln, -‘O Captain, my Captain,’ and the great lament -beginning ‘When lilacs last in the dooryard -bloom’d.’ Here the poet rises to his supreme -height. For pathos and tenderness, for beauty of -phrase, nobility of thought, and a grand yet simple -manner this threnody is indeed worthy of the -praise bestowed on it by those critics whose praise -is most to be desired.<a id="FNanchor_72" href="#Footnote_72" class="fnanchor">72</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_503">503</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_105">V<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><i>SPECIMEN DAYS AND COLLECT</i></span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">Whitman’s</span> prose in the definitive edition makes -a stout volume of more than five hundred closely -printed pages. The title, <i>Specimen Days and Collect</i>, -gives an imperfect hint of the contents. Here -are extracts from journals kept through twenty -years. Many bear a resemblance to Hugo’s -<i>Choses Vues</i>. Largely autobiographical and reminiscent, -they are vivid, picturesque, and far better -in their haphazard way than a good deal of formal -‘literature.’ Here are reprints of prefaces to the -several editions of <i>Leaves of Grass</i>, together with -papers on Burns, Tennyson, and Shakespeare, a -lecture on Lincoln, a paper on American national -literature, and yet more ‘diary-notes’ and ‘splinters.’ -He who loves to browse in a book will -find the volume of Whitman’s prose made to his -hand. The prose is of high importance to an -understanding of what, oddly enough, his poetry -imperfectly reveals—Whitman’s character. To -know the man as he really was we must read -<i>Specimen Days and Collect</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_504">504</span></p> - -<h3 id="sec_106">VI<br /> - -<span class="subhead">WHITMAN’S CHARACTER</span></h3> - -<p class="in0"><span class="secfirstword">There</span> is a certain uncanny quality in parts of -Whitman’s verse. The reiteration of particular -phrases and words awakens an uncomfortable feeling, -a suspicion of not-to-be-named queernesses, -to use no plainer term. The constant translation -of conceptions of ideal love into fleshly symbols -moves the reader to irreverence if not to disgust. -Whitman’s favorite image of bearded ‘comrades’ -who kiss when they meet, and who take long walks -with their arms around each other’s necks, may be -‘nonchalant’ but it is not agreeable. Somehow it -does not seem as if the doctrine of the brotherhood -of man gained many supporters by so singular -a method of propagandism.</p> - -<p>When from time to time Whitman talked with -Peter Doyle about his books, Doyle would say: -‘I don’t know what you are trying to get at.’<a id="FNanchor_73" href="#Footnote_73" class="fnanchor">73</a> -It is an ironical comment on the great preacher of -the needs and virtues of the average man that his -poetry should have been handed over to the keeping -of those whose jaded taste makes them hanker -after the bizarre, after anything that breeds discussion, -anything demanding interpretation and -defence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_505">505</span></p> - -<p>Yet no one doubts the sincerity of these faithful -followers. Whitmanites really like Whitman -albeit they protest too much. It is difficult to -read him and not like him. Unfortunately the -many find it impossible to read him. Whitman -prepares his feast, throws open his doors, and bids -all enter who will. A few come and by their shrill -volubility make it seem as if the dining-room were -crowded. The majority do not trouble to cross -the threshold. They have heard that the host -serves queer dishes; it has even been reported that -he is a cannibal.</p> - -<p>This, or something very like it, has been Whitman’s -fate. A taste for his work must be acquired. -He is the idol of cliques and societies, and a meaningless -name to the great people whom he loved, -whose virtues he chanted with confident fervor, -and in whom he trusted unreservedly.</p> - -<p>Poetry so egoistic might be supposed to reveal -the man. Strangely enough, Whitman’s poetry, -despite the heavy and continued accentuation of -the personal note, gives but a partial, a quite imperfect -view of the man himself. Whitman tells -us so emphatically what he <i>thinks</i> that we are at a -loss to know what he himself <i>is</i>. The great Shakespeare, -according to popular opinion, is veiled from -us through his extraordinary impersonality. Whitman -accomplishes a not dissimilar end by diametrically -opposite means; he hides himself by -over obtrusion of the personal element. The case<span class="pagenum" id="Page_506">506</span> -is not so common as to be undeserving of study. -As a method it has many drawbacks.</p> - -<p>Whitman has suffered at his own hands. The -egoistic manner, indispensable to his theory and -not to be taken with literalness, is nevertheless a -stumbling-block. Instruct themselves how they -will that in saying ‘I’ the poet also means ‘You,’ -that whatever Walt Whitman claims for himself -he also claims for every one else, readers somehow -lose hold of the thought and are amazed and -angered by the poet’s monstrous vanity.</p> - -<p>To this feeling the prose writings are an antidote. -We learn in a few pages how simple-minded, -patient, and lovable this man really was; -how reverent of genius, how free from envy, undisturbed -by suffering, ill-repute, and delayed -hopes. There was something at once pathetic and -noble in his patience, in his magnificent repose and -stability. The impersonal character of the tree -and the rock, which he admired so much, became -in a measure his. He bided his time. The success -of other poets awakened no jealousy. He never -called names, never picked flaws in the work of -his brother bards. The better we know him the -more dignified and lofty his figure becomes.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_69" href="#FNanchor_69" class="fnanchor">69</a> ‘Conversations with George W. Whitman,’ <i>In Re Walt Whitman</i>, -p. 36.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_70" href="#FNanchor_70" class="fnanchor">70</a> ‘... It is therefore deemed needful only to say in relation -to his [Whitman’s] removal, that his Chief—Hon. Wm. P. -Dole, Commissioner of Indian affairs, who was officially answerable -to me for the work in his Bureau, recommended it, <i>on the -ground that his services were not needed</i>. And no other reason -was ever assigned by my authority.’ Extract from a letter from -James Harlan to Dewitt Miller, dated Mt. Pleasant, Iowa, July -18, 1894.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_71" href="#FNanchor_71" class="fnanchor">71</a> So called in the edition of 1856. In the edition of 1897 it -is entitled ‘Song of Myself.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_72" href="#FNanchor_72" class="fnanchor">72</a> See, for example, Stedman’s tribute in <i>Poets of America</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_73" href="#FNanchor_73" class="fnanchor">73</a> <i>Calamus</i>, p. 27.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_509">509</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Index"><i>Index</i></h2> -</div> - -<ul class="index"> -<li class="ifrst"><i>Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey</i>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Abolitionists, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Afloat and Ashore</i>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Aftermath</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Ages, The,’ Bryant’s Phi Beta Kappa poem, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Agnew, Mary, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Alhambra, The</i>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Allan, Mr. and Mrs. John, befriend Poe, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Allegiance, treaty with Germany concerning, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">American Anti-Slavery Society in New York, Whittier secretary of, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>American Democrat, The</i>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>American Lands and Letters</i>, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">American Loyalists, Irving’s attitude towards, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">in Westchester County, N. Y., <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>American Note-Books of Nathaniel Hawthorne</i>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘American Scholar, The,’ Emerson’s Phi Beta Kappa oration, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Among My Books</i>, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Among the Hills</i>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Amory, Susan, wife of William Hickling Prescott, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Analectic Magazine,’ conducted by Irving, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">André, Major John, Irving’s treatment of, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Anti-slavery movement, Whittier’s connection with, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273–277</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Thoreau’s, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Curtis’s, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Lowell’s, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Anti-Slavery Papers</i>, Lowell’s, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Appleton, Frances, wife of Longfellow, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Archæological Institute of America, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Armada, the, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Arnold, Benedict, Irving’s treatment of, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Arnold, Matthew, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Astor, John Jacob, his commercial enterprise in the Northwest, the subject of <i>Astoria</i>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>At Sundown</i>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Atlantic Monthly,’ founding of, and Whittier’s contributions to, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Lowell editor of, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Autocrat, The, of the Breakfast-Table</i>, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>, <a href="#Page_355">355</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Autumn</i>, Thoreau’s, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Bachiler, Stephen, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bancroft, Aaron, father of George Bancroft, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bancroft, George: his ancestry, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">education and foreign travel, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">tutor at Harvard, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">the Round Hill School, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">early works, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">political appointments, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">founds United States Naval Academy, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">brings about treaty with Germany, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">last years, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of the History, <a href="#Page_110">110–119</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Barbara Frietchie,’ remark of Whittier concerning, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">popularity of, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Battle Summer</i>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Belfry, The, of Bruges</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Benjamin, Mary, wife of John Lothrop Motley, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">her death, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bigelow, Catharine, wife of Francis Parkman, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Biglow Papers, The</i>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_510">510</span>Bismarck, his student life with Motley, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bliss, Elisabeth (Davis), wife of George Bancroft, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Blithedale Romance, The</i>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Bonneville</i>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Book of the Roses</i>, <a href="#Page_381">381</a> (note).</li> - -<li class="indx">Borrow, George, Emerson’s knowledge of, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Boston Lyceum, Poe’s appearance before, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Bracebridge Hall</i>, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Bravo, The</i>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Broadway Journal, The,’ Poe’s connection with, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bronson, W. C., quoted, on Bryant, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Brook Farm, Emerson’s sympathy with, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Hawthorne’s connection with, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Brown, John, Thoreau’s acquaintance with, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bryant, Peter, father of William Cullen Bryant, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bryant, Stephen, ancestor of William Cullen Bryant, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bryant, William Cullen: his ancestry, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">early verses, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">education, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">law practice, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriage, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">editorial work, <a href="#Page_38">38–41</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">political affiliations, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">works published, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">travel, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">quarrel with an opponent, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his work, <a href="#Page_46">46–62</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his translations, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">quoted, on Cooper’s quarrel with the Press, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Burr, Aaron, Washington Irving among counsel for defence of, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Burroughs, John, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Burton’s Gentleman’s Magazine and American Monthly,’ Poe’s connection with, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Byron, George Gordon Noel, visits American flagship, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cabot, Sebastian, passage on, from Bancroft, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Cambridge (England), University of, confers degree on Holmes, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on Lowell, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Cape Cod</i>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Caraffa, Motley’s picture of, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Carlyle, Thomas, Emerson’s meeting with, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">correspondence with Emerson, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">quotation from, applied to Whitman, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Cathedral, The</i>, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, <a href="#Page_470">470</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Cavalier and Puritan, Bancroft’s comparison of, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Chainbearer, The</i>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Champlain, Samuel, <a href="#Page_392">392</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Charles the Fifth, Prescott’s continuation of Robertson’s history of, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Children of the Lord’s Supper, The</i>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Christus, a Mystery</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Civil Service reform, Curtis’s work for, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Clemm, Maria, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Clemm, Virginia, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">her marriage to Edgar Allan Poe, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">her death, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Clough, Arthur Hugh, effect on, of reading Evangeline, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">visits America, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Cogswell, Joseph G., <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Columbus, Irving’s life of, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Commemoration Ode</i>, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, <a href="#Page_470">470</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Conduct of Life</i>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Conkling, Roscoe, his attack on Curtis, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Conquest, The, of Granada</i>, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Conquest, The, of Mexico</i>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Conquest, The, of Peru</i>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Conspiracy, The, of Pontiac</i>, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Constitution of the United States, history of, by Bancroft, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Cooper, James Fenimore: his ancestry, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">boyhood and education, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">enters the navy, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marries and leaves the service, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his first books, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">life abroad, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">return to America, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">quarrel with the Press, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">list of works, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">style, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his works, <a href="#Page_75">75–97</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Cooper, William, father of James Fenimore Cooper, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_511">511</span>Cortés, Prescott’s estimate of, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Count Frontenac and New France under Louis XIV</i>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Courtship of Miles Standish, The</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Craigie, Mrs., her reception of Longfellow, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Crater, The</i>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Croker, J. W., quoted, on Irving, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Curtis, George William: his ancestry, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">education, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">at Brook Farm and Concord, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">foreign travel, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">newspaper work, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">the ‘Easy Chair,’ 419;</li> -<li class="isub1">books published, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">orations, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriage, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">political work and Civil Service reform, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">style, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his works, <a href="#Page_427">427–435</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Curtis family, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Dante, Longfellow’s translation of, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Davis, Elisabeth, wife of George Bancroft, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Deerslayer, The</i>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Defoe, Poe compared with, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">De Lancey, Susan, wife of James Fenimore Cooper, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">her family, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Democracy,’ 480.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Dial, The,’ 153.</li> - -<li class="indx">Dickens, Charles, dinner to, in New York, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">quotation from letter of, to Longfellow, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">greeting to, by O. W. Holmes, <a href="#Page_350">350</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Divine Tragedy, The</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Divinity Address,’ Emerson’s, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Dr. Grimshawe’s Secret</i>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Doctor Johns</i>, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Dolliver Romance, The</i>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Doyle, Peter, quoted, on Whitman, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Dream Life</i>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_447">447</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Drum-Taps</i>, <a href="#Page_488">488</a>, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Duelling, Bryant’s farce in ridicule of, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Dunlap, Frances, wife of James Russell Lowell, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Dutch life, Irving’s treatment of, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Duyckinck, E. A., <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Dwight, Sarah, wife of George Bancroft, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i>Early Spring in Massachusetts</i>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Easy Chair’ papers, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Edinburgh, University of, confers degree on Holmes, <a href="#Page_341">341</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>El Dorado</i>, <a href="#Page_403">403</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Elsie Venner</i>, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Embargo, The</i>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Emerson, Ralph Waldo: his ancestry, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">boyhood, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">education, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">ordination and withdrawal from the ministry, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">begins lecturing, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">settles in Concord, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">notable addresses, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">connection with Transcendental movement, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">lecture tour in England, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">position on slavery, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">list of his works, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">visitor to West Point and overseer of Harvard, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">nominated for Lord Rector of Glasgow University, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his works, <a href="#Page_160">160–186</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">quoted, on Bancroft, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">club meetings in his library, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Holmes’s life of, <a href="#Page_354">354</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Emerson family, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>English Lands, Letters, and Kings</i>, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>English Note-Books of Nathaniel Hawthorne</i>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>English Traits</i>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Evangeline</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">metre of, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">stimulating effect of, on Clough, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">popularity of, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Everett, Alexander, influential in Irving’s going to Spain, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Everett, Edward, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Excursions</i>, Thoreau’s, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_330">330</a>, <a href="#Page_332">332</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i>Fable, A, for Critics</i>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, <a href="#Page_468">468</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fairchild, Frances, wife of William Cullen Bryant, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Familiar Letters</i>, Thoreau’s, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>, <a href="#Page_332">332</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_512">512</span><i>Fanshawe</i>, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Faust</i>, Taylor’s translation of, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ferdinand and Isabella, Prescott’s history of, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Fighting parson, the,’ 148.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Fireside Travels</i>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fiske, John, cited, on Longfellow’s treatment of Cotton Mather in <i>The New England Tragedies</i>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fitzgerald, Edward, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>French and Italian Note-Books of Nathaniel Hawthorne</i>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Freeman, Edward A., quoted, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Fresh Gleanings</i>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Frogpondians,’ 200.</li> - -<li class="indx">Frontenac, Count, in the New World, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Fudge Doings</i>, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Fuller_Margaret"></a>Fuller, Margaret, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Emerson’s <i>Memoirs</i> of, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">her attack on Longfellow, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">schoolmate of Holmes, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Gardiner, John, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Garnett, Richard, quoted, on Emerson, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Garrison, William Lloyd, his relations with Whittier, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Gay, Sidney Howard, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Giles Corey of the Salem Farms</i>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Gleanings in Europe</i>, Cooper’s, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Godwin, Parke, quoted, on Bryant, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Goethe, Emerson’s estimate of, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Gold-Bug, The,’ wins prize, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Golden Legend, The</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Goldsmith, Irving’s life of, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">reference to his work, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Graham’s Magazine,’ Poe’s connection with, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Grandfather’s Chair</i>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Greeley, Horace, his advice to Taylor on writing letters of travel, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Green, John Richard, quoted, on Motley, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Greenough, Horatio, quotation from letter of, to Cooper, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Griswold, Rufus W., <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Guardian Angel, The</i>, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Guide, A, in the Wilderness</i>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a> (note).</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Gulliver’s Travels</i>, Irish bishop’s remark concerning, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i>Half-Century, A, of Conflict</i>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Hannah Thurston</i>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hansen, Marie, wife of Bayard Taylor, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Harlan, James, extract from letter of, concerning Walt Whitman’s removal from government clerkship, <a href="#Page_488">488</a> (note).</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Harper’s Weekly’ and ‘Harper’s Monthly,’ Curtis’s connection with, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Harrison, Frederic, his criticism of <i>Evangeline</i>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Haweis, H. R., <a href="#Page_460">460</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hawthorne, Nathaniel: his ancestry, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">boyhood and college life, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his first book, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">collector of the Port of Boston, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">joins Brook Farm Community, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriage, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Surveyor of Customs at Salem, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">consul at Liverpool, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">failing health and death, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his character, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">style, <a href="#Page_296">296</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his works, <a href="#Page_298">298–317</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his refusal to write an Acadian story, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hawthorne family, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Haverhill Gazette,’ Whittier’s connection with, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Headsman, The</i>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Heartsease and Rue</i>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, <a href="#Page_473">473</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Heidenmauer, The</i>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Henry, Prince, of Hoheneck, the subject of <i>The Golden Legend</i>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Heroes, The,’ 38.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Hiawatha</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">the metre of, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">popularity of, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">sources and purpose of, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>History, The, of the Navy of the United States of America</i>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>History of the United Netherlands</i>, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Holmes, Abiel, father of Oliver Wendell Holmes, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Holmes, Oliver Wendell: his ancestry, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">education, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_513">513</span>professor at Dartmouth College, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriage, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">professor at Harvard, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">contributions to the ‘Atlantic Monthly,’ 340;</li> -<li class="isub1">list of his works, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death, <a href="#Page_341">341</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_341">341</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">style, <a href="#Page_344">344</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his works, <a href="#Page_345">345–355</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his ‘occasional’ poems, <a href="#Page_350">350</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his fiction, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his biography, <a href="#Page_354">354</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">quoted, on Longfellow, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his explanation of the ease of the metre of Hiawatha, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Home as Found</i>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Home Ballads</i>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Home Pastorals, Ballads and Lyrics</i>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_412">412</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Homeward Bound</i>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>House, The, of the Seven Gables</i>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Howadji, The, in Syria</i>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Howe, Judge Samuel, anecdote of, as Bryant’s instructor in law, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Howells, William Dean, his description of Thoreau, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Hub of the Solar System,’ 347.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Hyperion</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i>In the Harbor</i>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>In War Time</i>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Indian life as shown in Cooper’s novels, <a href="#Page_79">79–82</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">in Hiawatha, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">in Parkman’s histories, <a href="#Page_380">380</a>, <a href="#Page_387">387–389</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ireland, Alexander, arranges lecturing trip for Emerson in England, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Irish Presbyterians in New Hampshire, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Irving, Peter, brother of Washington Irving, <a href="#Page_5">5–7</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Irving, Pierre M., makes first draft of <i>Astoria</i>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Irving, Washington: his ancestry, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">childhood and education, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">early writings, <a href="#Page_5">5–7</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Secretary of American Legation in London, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Minister to Spain, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">political opportunities, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of writings, <a href="#Page_13">13–32</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">assists Bryant, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mention of Bryant’s oration on, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">reference to his style, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Irving, William, father of Washington Irving, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Irving, William T., brother of Washington Irving, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ivry, battle of, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i>Jack Tar</i>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Jackson, Amelia, wife of O. W. Holmes, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Jackson, Lydia, wife of Ralph Waldo Emerson, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">James, Henry, reference to his story, ‘The Death of the Lion,’ 297.</li> - -<li class="indx">Jameson, J. F., quoted, on Bancroft, <a href="#Page_117">117</a> (note).</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Jesuits, The, in North America</i>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>, <a href="#Page_392">392</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>John Endicott</i>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>John Godfrey’s Fortunes</i>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>John of Barneveld</i>, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Jonathan Oldstyle’ letters, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Jones, John Paul, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Journal, The, of Julius Rodman</i>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Judas Maccabeus</i>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i>Kavanagh</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Kennedy, John P., <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Kéramos</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Knickerbocker’s New York</i>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Lafayette, defended by Cooper, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Emerson’s meeting with, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">visits David Poe’s grave, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lamb, Charles, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Lars</i>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_412">412</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West</i>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>, <a href="#Page_392">392</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Last, The, of the Mohicans</i>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Leather-Stocking Tales</i>, <a href="#Page_77">77–81</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Leaves of Grass</i>, <a href="#Page_487">487</a>, <a href="#Page_490">490</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a>, <a href="#Page_503">503</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Legends of New England</i>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Whittier’s opinion of, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">partial suppression of, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Legends of the Conquest of Spain</i>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Leggett, William, his attack on Irving, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">assists Bryant in editing the ‘New York Evening Post,’ 39;</li> -<li class="isub1"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_514">514</span>Whittier pays tribute to, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Letter, A, to his Countrymen</i>, Cooper’s, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Letters and Social Aims</i>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Letters of a Traveller</i>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Letters to Various Persons</i>, Thoreau’s, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Library of Poetry and Song</i>, Bryant’s connection with, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lincoln, Abraham, Lowell’s tribute to, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Linzee, Captain, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Lionel Lincoln</i>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lisfranc, Jacques, Holmes’s feeling towards, <a href="#Page_341">341</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Literary Recollections and Miscellanies</i>, Whittier’s, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth: his ancestry, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">education and early poems, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">professorship at Bowdoin, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriage, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Harvard professorship, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death of his wife, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">occupancy of the Craigie House, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">second marriage, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">lists of books published, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death of Mrs. Longfellow, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">honors conferred on Longfellow, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his death, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">poetical style, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his works, <a href="#Page_233">233–250</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Lorgnette, The</i>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Lotus-Eating</i>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Louisbourg, siege of, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lowell, James Russell: his ancestry, <a href="#Page_453">453</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">education, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">starts ‘The Pioneer,’ 454;</li> -<li class="isub1">first books, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">connection with ‘The National Anti-Slavery Standard,’ 456;</li> -<li class="isub1">winter abroad, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death of Mrs. Lowell, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Harvard professor, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">second marriage, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">editor of Atlantic Monthly’ and ‘North American Review,’ 458;</li> -<li class="isub1">list of books published, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Minister to Spain, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Minister to England, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">last years, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">style, <a href="#Page_463">463</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his works, <a href="#Page_465">465–482</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lowell family, <a href="#Page_453">453</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Lynn Pythoness,’ 259.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i>Mahomet and his Successors</i>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Maine Woods, The</i>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_330">330</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘MS. Found in a Bottle,’ wins prize, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i><a id="Marble_Faun_The"></a>Marble Faun, The</i>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_310">310</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Margaret Smith’s Journal, Leaves from</i>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Masque, The, of Pandora</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Masque, The, of the Gods</i>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Society, its treatment of Emerson, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Mather, Cotton, Longfellow’s treatment of, in <i>The New England Tragedies</i>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Mercedes of Castile</i>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Merry-Mount</i>, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Michael Angelo</i>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Miles Wallingford</i>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Miriam</i>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Mitchell, Donald Grant: his ancestry and education, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his first book, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">consul at Venice, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriage, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">list of his books, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">editorial work and lecturing, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his character and literary style, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his works, <a href="#Page_444">444–450</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Mogg Megone</i>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Whittier’s objection to reprinting, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Monikins, The</i>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Montaigne, as one of Emerson’s <i>Representative Men</i>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Montcalm and Wolfe</i>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Moody, Father, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Morituri Salutamus,’ anecdote of the reading of, at Bowdoin, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Morris, William, reference to his <i>Earthly Paradise</i>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Mortal Antipathy, A</i>, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Mosses from an Old Manse</i>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Motley, John Lothrop: his ancestry and education, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">foreign study, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">intimacy with Bismarck, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">admission to the bar, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriage, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">publication of novels and essays, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Secretary to American Legation in St. Petersburg, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">member of Massachusetts legislature, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">residence abroad for historical study, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_515">515</span>scholastic honors, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Minister to Austria, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">to England, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his character, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">style, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his histories, <a href="#Page_369">369–376</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Holmes’s memoir of, <a href="#Page_354">354</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Murat, Achille, meets Emerson, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>My Farm of Edgewood</i>, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>My Study Windows</i>, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Napoleon, Emerson’s estimate of, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Narrative, The, of Arthur Gordon Pym</i>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘National Anti-Slavery Standard,’ Lowell’s connection with, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Natural History of Intellect</i>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Nature</i>, Emerson’s, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Ned Myers</i>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Netherlands, Motley’s history of, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Neutral ground, The,’ 75.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>New England Tragedies, The</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘New York Evening Post,’ Bryant’s connection with, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘New York Review and Athenæum Magazine,’ Bryant’s editorship of, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Nile Notes of a Howadji</i>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘North American Review,’ Bryant’s early contributions to, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Lowell’s connection with, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Norton, Andrews, his disagreement with Emerson, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i>Oak Openings, The</i>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Old Manse, The,’ 147;</li> -<li class="isub1">Hawthorne’s occupancy of, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Old Portraits and Modern Sketches</i>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Old Régime, The</i>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘On a Certain Condescension in Foreigners,’ 460.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Oregon Trail, The</i>, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ossoli, Margaret Fuller. See <a href="#Fuller_Margaret">Fuller, Margaret</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Otsego Hall, home of the Coopers, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Our Hundred Days in Europe</i>, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>, <a href="#Page_348">348</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Our Old Home</i>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">anecdote of the dedication of, to Franklin Pierce, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character of, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Outre-Mer</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Over the Teacups</i>, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>, <a href="#Page_348">348</a>, <a href="#Page_355">355</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Oxford, University of, confers degree on Longfellow, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on Holmes, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on Motley, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on Lowell, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Parkman, Francis: his ancestry, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">education, <a href="#Page_380">380</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">interest in Indian life, <a href="#Page_380">380</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">first book, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriage, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">ill health, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">list of his works, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">honors, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">literary style, <a href="#Page_385">385</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his works, <a href="#Page_387">387–398</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Parkman family, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Pastorius, Daniel, the subject of the <i>Pennsylvania Pilgrim</i>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Pathfinder, The</i>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Paulding, J. K., <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Peabody, Sophia, wife of Nathaniel Hawthorne, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Penn Magazine, The,’ projected by Poe, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Pennsylvania Hall, sacking of, by a pro-slavery mob, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Pennsylvania Pilgrim, The</i>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Phi Beta Kappa poem by Bryant, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Philip the Second, Bancroft’s history of, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Motley’s treatment of, <a href="#Page_372">372–375</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Picture, The, of St. John</i>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_412">412</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Pierce, Franklin: his friendship with Hawthorne, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Hawthorne’s life of, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Pilot, The</i>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Pioneer, The,’ Lowell’s magazine, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Pioneers, The</i>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Pioneers, The, of France in the New World</i>, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Pizarro, Francisco, his exploits in Peru, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_516">516</span>Pizarro, Gonzalo, his march across the Andes, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Plato, Emerson on, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Poe, Edgar Allan: his ancestry, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">adoption by the Allans, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">education, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">enters West Point, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">early writings, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriage, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">editorial work, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">lecturing, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">affair of the Boston Lyceum, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death of his wife, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">proposal of marriage to Mrs. Shelton, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">style, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his works, <a href="#Page_203">203–211</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his work as a critic, <a href="#Page_211">211–215</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">quality of his poetry, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Poems of Home and Travel</i>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Poems of the Orient</i>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_411">411</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Poet, The, at the Breakfast-Table</i>, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Poetry, quality, of, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Bryant’s theory of, <a href="#Page_48">48–50</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Poe’s, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Poet’s Journal, The</i>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_411">411</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Poets and Poetry of Europe</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Potiphar Papers, The</i>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Potter, Mary Storer, wife of Longfellow, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Prairie, The</i>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Precaution</i>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Prentice, George, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Prescott, William Hickling: his ancestry, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">education, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">accident to his eyes, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriage, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">beginning of his literary work, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">list of his works, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his style, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his works, <a href="#Page_132">132–143</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his aid to Motley, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Prescott family, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Prince Deukalion</i>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Professor, The, at the Breakfast-Table</i>, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Prophet, The</i>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Prue and I</i>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Puritan and Cavalier, Bancroft’s comparison of, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Putnam’s Magazine,’ Curtis’s connection with, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>; Lowell’s, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">‘Quaker Poet,’ 256.</li> - -<li class="indx">Quakers, Longfellow’s treatment of, in <i>John Endicott</i>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">relations of the Whittier family to, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">‘Raven, The,’ 196, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Red Rover, The</i>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Redskins, The</i>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Representative Men</i>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Reveries of a Bachelor</i>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ripley, George, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Rise, The, of the Dutch Republic</i>, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Rogers, Samuel, Bryant dedicates book to, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Round Hill School for Boys, Bancroft’s connection with, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Longfellow considers buying, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Motley a student at, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">St. Boniface, Church of, Winnipeg, honors Whittier, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">St. Botolph Club, Boston, Parkman’s connection with, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Salmagundi</i>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Satanstoe</i>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Saturday Visitor, The,’ offers prizes, for which Poe competes, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Scarlet Letter, The</i>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Sea Lions, The</i>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Seaside, The, and the Fireside</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Septimius Felton</i>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Seven Stories</i>, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>, <a href="#Page_447">447</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Shakespeare, Emerson’s estimate of, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Shaw, Anna, wife of George William Curtis, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Shays’s Rebellion, incident of, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Simms, William Gilmore, his advice to Poe, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Sketch Book, The</i>, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Sketches of Switzerland</i>, Cooper’s, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Smith, Goldwin, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Smithell’s Hall, Bolton-le-Moors, tradition connected with, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Snow Image, The</i>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Snow-Bound</i>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Society and Solitude</i>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Songs of Labor</i>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Southern Literary Messenger, The,’ Poe’s connection with, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Spanish Student, The</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_517">517</span><i>Specimen Days and Collect</i>, <a href="#Page_489">489</a>, <a href="#Page_503">503</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Spy, The</i>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Stanley, Dean, quoted, on Motley, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Stedman, Edmund C., quoted on Poe, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Stephen, Leslie, quoted, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Story, The, of Kennett</i>, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Summer</i>, Thoreau’s, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Sunnyside,’ Irving’s home, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Supernaturalism, The, of New England</i>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Swedenborg, Emanuel, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Swinburne, A. C., quotation from, applied to Whitman, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Tâché, Archbishop, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Tales of a Traveller</i>, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Tales of a Wayside Inn</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque</i>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203–211</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Talisman, The,’ Bryant’s editorial work on, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Tamerlane</i>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Tanglewood Tales</i>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Taylor, Bayard: birth and education, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">travels on foot, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">journalistic work, <a href="#Page_403">403</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">extensive travels, <a href="#Page_403">403</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">lists of his books, <a href="#Page_403">403</a>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriages, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Minister to Germany, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">style, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his poetical works, <a href="#Page_410">410–414</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Tennyson, Emerson’s attitude toward, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Tent, The, on the Beach</i>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Whittier’s remark on the popularity of, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">scheme of, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Thanatopsis,’ 36, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Thoreau, Henry David: his ancestry, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">early occupations, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">outdoor life, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">first book, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">lecturing, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">abolition sympathies, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">acquaintance with John Brown, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">list of his works, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">travels, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_325">325</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his works, <a href="#Page_327">327–333</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Three Books of Song</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Three Memorial Poems</i>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Three Mile Point, Cooperstown, N. Y. controversy concerning, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ticknor, George, his friendship with Prescott, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">resigns professorship in favor of Longfellow, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Tories of the American Revolution, Irving’s attitude towards, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Transcendental movement, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Transformation.</i> See <i><a href="#Marble_Faun_The">Marble Faun</a></i>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Travelling Bachelor, Notions of the Americans picked up by a</i>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Trumps</i>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Tucker, Ellen, wife of Ralph Waldo Emerson, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Twice-Told Tales</i>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Two Admirals, The</i>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i>Ultima Thule</i>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>United Netherlands, History of the</i>, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">United States, Bancroft’s history of, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘United States Literary Gazette,’ Longfellow’s contributions to, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">United States Naval Academy at Annapolis, founding of, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Upside Down, or Philosophy in Petticoats,’ 71.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i>Vassall Morton</i>, <a href="#Page_380">380</a>, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Views Afloat</i>, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>, <a href="#Page_404">404</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Vision of Echard, The</i>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Vision of Sir Launfal, The</i>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>, <a href="#Page_468">468</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Voices of Freedom</i>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Voices of the Night</i>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Voyages of the Companions of Columbus</i>, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i>Walden</i>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a>, <a href="#Page_332">332</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wansey, Henry, mention of his <i>Excursion to the United States</i>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ware, Henry, Emerson colleague of, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Washington, Irving’s life of, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Lowell’s tribute to, <a href="#Page_472">472</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Water-Witch, The</i>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Ways of the Hour</i>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wayside Inn, the, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Weed, Thurlow, quoted, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_518">518</span><i>Week, A, on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers</i>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_328">328</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Wept of Wish-ton-Wish, The</i>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Wet Days at Edgewood</i>, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Whewell, William, makes inquiries about <i>Evangeline</i>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">White, Maria, wife of James Russell Lowell, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">her death, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">White, T. W., his association with Poe, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Whitman, Walt: his ancestry, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">education and early occupations, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">journeyings in the United States, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">publication of <i>Leaves of Grass</i>, <a href="#Page_487">487</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">work as army nurse and government clerk, <a href="#Page_487">487</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">life in Camden, N. J., <a href="#Page_488">488</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">list of his writings, <a href="#Page_488">488</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">subsidence of opposition, <a href="#Page_489">489</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">growth of his reputation, <a href="#Page_490">490</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">English admirers, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his Boston publisher threatened with prosecution, <a href="#Page_492">492</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his work, <a href="#Page_492">492–496</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his character, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mention of, in comparison with Longfellow, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Whitman family, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Whittier, John Greenleaf; his ancestry, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">boyhood, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">early writings, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">beginning of acquaintance with Garrison, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">attends Haverhill Academy, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">editorial work, <a href="#Page_259">259–261</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">beginning of anti-slavery work, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">encounters with mobs, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">love of country life, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">lists of his works, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">contributions to ‘Atlantic Monthly,’ 262;</li> -<li class="isub1">overseer of Harvard College, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">places of residence, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his literary art, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism of his works, <a href="#Page_269">269–283</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his description of Bayard Taylor, <a href="#Page_408">408</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Whittier family, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Wing-and-Wing</i>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Winter</i>, Thoreau’s, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Wolfert’s Roost</i>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Wonder-Book, The</i>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Worsley, Philip S., quoted, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Wyandotté</i>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ximenes, Mateo, his association with Irving, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i>Yankee, A, in Canada</i>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Year’s Life, A</i>, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>.</li> -</ul> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"><div class="transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes</h2> - -<p>Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made -consistent when a predominant preference was found -in the original book; otherwise they were not changed.</p> - -<p>Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced -quotation marks were remedied when the change was -obvious, and otherwise left unbalanced.</p> - -<p>The index was not checked for proper alphabetization -or correct page references.</p> - -<p>Transcriber removed redundant chapter headings.</p> - -<p>Lists of reference materials, originally printed at -the bottom of the first page of each biography, -have been moved to just after the chapter -headings and labelled as “References:” by the -Transcriber.</p> - -<p>Footnotes, originally printed at the bottoms of -pages, have been renumbered, collected, -moved to the ends of their chapters, and labelled -as “Footnotes:” by the Transcriber.</p> -</div></div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN LITERARY MASTERS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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