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■MiM 
 
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 XiUx 
 
THE mEi AND UFE-ffORE 
 
 -OF — 
 
 LONGFELLOW, 
 
 -A. F.A.r»ER rREu^ID 
 
 HEFORE THE 
 
 J^ltevitttj aurt Ulstovtciil #5ctetij of C^xicbec, 
 
 7th march, 1883, 
 
 BY 
 
 GEO. STE^A^ART, Jr., F.R.S.C., 
 
 Fi7'i>t VlrP'Pri'Miloil of thi- Sorirfi/. 
 
 (FIFTY COPIES.) 
 
 QUEBEC: 
 PRINTED AT THE " MORNING CHRONIOLE " OFFICE. 
 
 1883. 
 
 PROVINCIAL LIBRARV 
 VICTORIA. B. CU . 
 
B 
 
 on. 
 
TO MY FRIEND, 
 
 OH^S. C3-. ID. ROBERTS, 1^. 
 
 The Auihor of "ORION," 
 
 -A^, 
 
 Jhese Pages are A'^'^ectionately I 
 
 NSCRIBED. 
 
 Tin: AiTHOK. 
 
 199344 
 
Tt 
 
 I ha 
 
 many c 
 
 whole ^ 
 
 g"entles1 
 
 Henry ^ 
 
 on the 2 
 
 college, 
 
 In 1825 
 
 law oliic 
 
 Coke an 
 
 soon rel 
 
 delights 
 
 journey 
 
 iu his A, 
 
 dition th 
 
 his tour. 
 
 left Ame 
 
 Spain, Ij 
 
 Returnin 
 
 fossorshij 
 
 eminent 
 
 known in 
 
 of Moder 
 
 fellow wj 
 
 more full 
 
 tindertoot 
 
 the langui 
 
 twelve m( 
 
The Uenius and Lite-woii of Longfellow. 
 
 I have selected as my theme to-night, a poet who has 
 many claims upon your affection, a singer who sang for the 
 whole world, and whose verse breathes only the tenderest, 
 gentlest and most humanizing thoughts and sentiments. 
 Henry Wads worth Longfellow was born in Portland, Main*', 
 on the 27th of February, 1807. lie was educated atliowdoin 
 college, where he began his higher studies at the age of 14. 
 In 1825, he was graduated with honours, and entered the 
 law ollice of his father, the Hon. Stephen Longfellow, but 
 Coke and Blackstone had little charm for him, and he Aery 
 soon relinquished pleadings and commentaries for the; 
 delights of foreign travel. Before starting out on his lirst 
 journey through Europe, he had bi^en offered a professorship 
 in his Alma Mater, and he accepted the position on the con- 
 dition that he would only assume his duties at the close of 
 his tour. The arrangement being mutually satisfactory, he 
 left America and spent three years and a half in France, 
 Spain, Italy, Holland, Germany, and the British Isles. 
 I Returning home in 1829, he at once entered upon his pro- 
 Ifossorship at Bowdoin, and when George Ticknor, the 
 eminent author of the best history of Spanish literature 
 1 known in the English tongue, resigned in 1835, the chair 
 I of Modern Languages, in old Harvard university, Long- 
 Ifellow was appointed to fill the vacancy. To fit himself 
 Imore fully for his enlarged sphere of action, he again 
 lundertook a journey abroad, and sought acquaintance with 
 [the language and letters of northern Europe. He devoted 
 fwelve months to study, observation and travel in Scandi- 
 
lavia, Germany, and the Swiss cantoiiK, and roliirned to 
 the. United States in the autnmn of 1830, refreshed in mind 
 and body, and ready for liis work, lie remained at Harvard 
 as professor until 1854, when h(5 resii]fned, and was succeeded 
 by his friend and associate, James Kussell Lowell, — the dis- 
 tinguished poet and essayist, — known to you all through his 
 inimitable series of Biglow Papers, — and at ])resent United 
 States Minister at the Court ol" St. James. Whilst an under- 
 graduate, Longfellow began writing poetry, and many of 
 his best pieces appeared in the Literary Gazelle, a "well-con- 
 ducted periodical in its day, though once the editor, with 
 the usual sapience of editors, who are jwpularly supposed 
 to know and understand everything, except Quebec politics, 
 advised him to give up poetry and " buckle down to the 
 law." This was odd advice to a man who had produced at 
 the time, such work as the " Hymn of the Moravian Nuns," 
 '• The Spirit of Poetry," " Woods in Winter," and " Sunrise 
 on the Hills," but the poet, who fortunately knew^ himself 
 better than his critic did, and trusted his own powers, kept 
 on throwing from his muse, tho.se wonderful gems of song 
 and poesy, which carry sympathy and delight and joy to 
 thousands of breasts in all lands beneath the sun. During 
 his iucuml)ency at Bowdoin college, he wrote a good deal, 
 in the way of criticism, for the North American Rcvicic. Ho 
 published "Outre-mer " in 1835, and " Hyperion " in 1839, 
 both prose works, and singularly graceful in style and 
 spirit. His first collection of poems also appeared in the 
 latter year, under the title of " Voices of the Night." This 
 little book contained, besides the " Midnight Mass for the 
 Dying Year," "The lleaper and the Flowers," and the 
 " Beleaguered City," that famous hymn " A Psalm of Life," I 
 which is perhaps better known than anything the poet ever 
 wrote. It seemed at once to take its place among the bettor J 
 poems of the world. It is full of lessons to the young I 
 and the old; full of echoes of the heart and soul, full of com- 
 
ived to 
 
 I mind 
 larvavd 
 
 (H'LM'dod 
 
 -the dis- 
 ,ugh his 
 , United 
 
 II under- 
 many of 
 woll-eon- 
 toT, with 
 
 c politi*^8. 
 
 vn to the 
 
 •odvved at 
 
 an Nuns," 
 
 L "Sunrise 
 
 .yf himself 
 
 iwers, kept 
 
 ms of song 
 and joy to 
 
 u. During 
 
 good deal, 
 
 icririi.'- He 
 
 11 "in 1830, 
 
 style and 
 
 ared in the 
 
 ight." This 
 
 Mass for the 
 
 •s;' and the 
 
 ;alm of Life," ' 
 thepoeteveil 
 ,ng the better I 
 to the young I 
 il, full of com- 
 
 5 
 
 fort for everybody. It has been traiisliiled into nearly all 
 the European languages, as well as into several Asiatic 
 tongues, and its teachings have spread all round the universe 
 of God. How often have you heard these lines : — 
 
 " Lives tif grt'iit iiicii iill I'uiuiiul us 
 We cull make our live.s siililiine, 
 And, (leimrtiiig, leave beliiinl lis • 
 
 FijotiirintH on tlie Manila nf time ; 
 
 Footiiriiits, thiit perluqiH iviidtlier, 
 
 Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 
 A forlorn and sliiii- wrecked brother, 
 
 ■Seeing, shall take heart again. 
 
 Let lis, then, he up and doing, 
 
 With a heart for any fate ; 
 Still achieving, still pursuing, 
 
 Learn to labour and to wait." 
 
 After " Voices of the Night," came in 1842 " Ballads and 
 other Poems," — full of ringing metres and rapidly-flowing 
 thoughts, — and in the year following, he sent out " Poems 
 on Slavery," exhibiting much of his stronger Avork, and 
 " The Spanish Student," a drama cast in the Sliakes]ierian 
 mould, vigorous in conception and individuality, marvellous 
 in execution, but incapable of reinvscntation on the stage. 
 Its humour is exquisite, and the action free and natural, but 
 even Modjeska, who admired it very much as a dramatic 
 poem, and loved to recite portions of the narrative to small 
 knots of friends, felt tho*^ it would never make an acting 
 play. In rapid succession, Longfellow produced, " The 
 Poets and Poetry of Europe," "The Belfry of Bruges," 
 " Evangeline," and the prose story of " Kavanagh." After 
 these came "The Seaside and the Fireside," "The Golden 
 Legend," and the grand " Song of Hiawatha," a poem which 
 attracted a great amount of criticism in its day, and made a 
 very lasting impression on the reading world. " The Court- 
 ship of Miles Standish," illustrating in every line the 
 
4 — 
 
 for 
 
 out] 
 
 vvor 
 
 wit J 
 
 the 
 
 W'flV, 
 
 ibr 0-, 
 thi> Tt 
 he ht\! 
 
 No OJII 
 IIiNJ)0( 
 
 Ml of 
 
 and 
 
 Puritanism in Longli'llow's nalurc, and his raro skill as a 
 sympathclif artist, appcan'd in IH.lS, and met. with a 
 llattorini? and kindly rcfoption cvfrywhcn'. To further 
 onuincrato tho jwoI'h writings would he nicic cataloi^iiin'r, 
 and it would he woarjinj? to your pationro, on thi' prosvnt 
 occasion, to extend the list. I may say, however, that 
 8*' ns? his more prominent and permanent work, may be 
 pla<"ed his admiralde translation of Dante, — a stupendous 
 performanee, — his beautil'ttl domestie jmem oi' "The Hang- 
 iujj of the Crane," which all young brides sliould read 
 and learn to repeat by heart, — the "Masque of Panci(<ra," 
 "Keramos," "Ultima Thule," and his last noble ellbrt. 
 "Michael Angelo." These exhibit LongiV'Uow at his best, 
 • and shew his many-sidedness, his intimate acquaintanceship 
 with all phases of the human heart, and his love for doinir 
 good to his fellow-men. lie was a truepoi't of theallections, 
 of nature in all her moods, and of sentiment. In the 
 humblest homes of England, his is the poetry which makes 
 the lives of their occupants more gentle and jmre. In France, 
 in llussia, in Spain and G-ermany, in Switzerland and in 
 Scandinavia, his verse has wound itself into the souls of tlio 
 people, whether noble or peasant, and in so loving and 
 unobtrusive a way, that even the native bards of those 
 countries have allowed him to share th(!ir pojjixlarity, with- 
 out a murmur. There is hardly a country on the lace of 
 the globe to-day, which does not know Longfellow. He is 
 quoted in palace and in hall, in the cottagi? and in the I Americi'J 
 poorest hut. The great statesmen of the time poiiitl idi'ali.sn 
 their speeches with an apt figure from his muse. Thcl the Uiii 
 Churc^h, the Bench and the Bar pay trioutc to his geniii".! iiituiy av 
 and embellish their utterances with quotations from hisi wil] ho 
 works. The poet has become a hoiisehold word in thJ hi\s u^y; 
 mouths of all. He sang for all the world. Like Miltoil their ov 
 and Tennyson, he wrote for thos-- (/' learned leisure; likJ found p 
 Burns and Berauger, he sang i<; lue poor and lowly, fof a certain 
 
 joj 
 
 pathies 
 
 I'cnetra 
 
 i'"iicii„ 
 
 "•tense 
 
 whicji 
 
 I^ominiJ 
 
 «cv(>raJ 
 
 iiidebtcj 
 
 '■'nd tea[ 
 
W a« ft 
 ,vith II 
 
 or, that 
 may bt' 
 
 t(> Hang- 
 \\\d T»'a(\ 
 
 r his Wst, 
 Uiiuceshil' 
 for doiuir 
 . iiU'tH-lious, 
 t. In thf 
 lich makes 
 
 vnd auil i" 
 souls o{ thi^ 
 loving and 
 \s ol" those 
 [arity, with- 
 tUo faco of 
 low. He is 
 and in the 
 time point I 
 muse. Tnt^ 
 his genius. 
 ,ns from his] 
 word in tl^' 
 Like Miltoi 
 leisure ; liM 
 
 ud lowly, i^\ 
 
 those howed down with griel", Tor those wlio wanted words 
 orcomiort to ease the aching heart and the wearied bruin, 
 lor those who yearned lor some joyous melody, some soul- 
 entraneing strains l"r(»ui the musie of thij splieres. He spok*^ 
 words of solace to countless thousand' -nd lilled the air 
 with generous SI »n«4s, and christianized i lie atmosphere of 
 the doubting. (Jod, Christ and reh<;ioii. and th<' funda- 
 mental truths wt're taught by Loi.gfellow, in his splendid 
 way, and who shall not say that he; wnmght an influence 
 for good that no man can estimate, and few, n(tw living in 
 the realms of song and story, can siivpassY To all heart.s, 
 ho has sung his tender sona's, and who can ever foriret the 
 majesty of the man, or the sweei earnestness of the poet i 
 No oni! would wish to blot out a single line from his works. 
 His poetry is the natural outcome of a IVesh.pure and lofty soul 
 full of sympathy for those in allliction, full of heli>fulne8S 
 and joy for mankind. His humanity is so broad, his sym- 
 pathies are so just and tnu\ the spirit of his poetry is so 
 penetralinii' and catholic, th.at it \*(mld be singular indeed 
 if he failed to exert an inlluence on the Canadian people as 
 intense and real as it is in his own country. The esteem in 
 which his writings are everywhere hc^ld throughout the 
 Dominion, is naturally enough, very high and cordial. For 
 sin'oral years i)ast, Canadian authorship ha.s been largely 
 inde1)t(>d to American letters for many relining influenc-es 
 and teachings in the science of intellet-tual development. 
 American thought has influenced Canadian thought. The 
 idealism of Emerson, the transcendentalism of Alcott, and 
 the Unitarianism of Channing or of Clarke have not carried 
 many away, but their inllueui-e, though in a slight degree, 
 will 1)0 admitted. The excessive morality of these men 
 lias awakened something more than a mere echo across 
 their own l)order. Their teachings, however, have only 
 found pupils among the class which seeks enlightenment in 
 a certain department of human thought, and consequently the 
 
— () 
 
 coiistitiK'iicy is not large. American poetry has had no 
 ])attlo to light, no prejudices to overcome, except the pre- 
 judice of ignorance, and the Canadian mind readily 
 accepted the songs of AVhittior, of Longfellow, of Bryant, 
 and of Holmes, and ranked them with some of the best 
 efforts of that oilier English literature across the sea. 
 
 For a variety of reasons, Longfellow's verse has always 
 maintained a strong hold on the Canadian public, and to- 
 day his writings have a larger circulation in Canada than 
 those of any four living poets combined, and the list may 
 comprehend Tennyson and Robert Browning. The institu- 
 tions of Canada, its system of education, and the natural 
 features of its civilization have so much in common with 
 those of the United States, that the whole range of American 
 poetry can offer little that Canadians may not appreciate 
 and accept. They may not care to throw up their caps over 
 the poetic celebrations of American victories over British 
 arms, but such domestic pictures as are met with in the 
 " Hanging of the Crane," such stalwart writing as is given 
 in the "Skeleton in Armour," such vigorous story-telling 
 as is found in " Miles Standish," in " Evangeline," and in 
 " The New England Tragedies," have long ago won a place 
 in the Canadian heart, which is destined to endure. 
 
 But while Longfellow's writings influence much of the 
 thought which linds an outcome in the poetic efforts of what 
 may be locally called Canadian literature ; it must be con- 
 ceded that his power more keenly asserts itself in the 
 individual lives of the people themselves, the readers of 
 good books, and the lovers of true poetry. The territorial 
 vastness of the Dominion must be taken into account, iu 
 any consideration which may be made of the influonciug 
 tendencies of his work on Canadian life and activity. Iu 
 Nova Scotia, for instance, the one descriptive poem which 
 he has written about that province, has made his name 
 loved and venerated throughout its length and breadth. All 
 
7- 
 
 ad no 
 le pre- 
 readily 
 Bryant, 
 he best 
 
 always 
 and to- 
 bda than 
 list may 
 e iustitu- 
 5 natural 
 ion "witli 
 American 
 ippreciate 
 caps over 
 er British 
 nih. in the 
 ts is given 
 ory-telling 
 e," and in 
 ron a place 
 ire. 
 
 inch of the 
 )rts of what 
 ust be con- 
 self in the 
 readers of 
 ; territorial 
 accoant, in 
 influencing 
 xctivity. In 
 -poem which 
 le his name 
 breadt^:. AH 
 
 through that section, Longfellow's poems haA'e penetrated, 
 and he is ofteuer quoted in the every-day speeches of the 
 people, in the pulpits and in the press, than any other 
 writer of modern times. The sister province of New 
 Brunswick, which in the old days was a part of Nova 
 Scotia, takes as kindly to her Longfellow. " The Wreck of 
 the Hesperus," and the " Building of the Ship," are taught 
 as exercises in the schools, while "Hiawatha" is widely 
 read, and has formed the task of many a youthful elocution- 
 ist in the recitation room. The winter described in that 
 legend is almost the counterpart of the winter of northern 
 Now Brunswick, neither intensified nor overdrawn. 
 
 The literary activity of Ontario is represented by the city 
 of Toronto, which is the centre of university life and 
 motive. English poetry, in its higher form, finds express- 
 ion in such types as Mr. Tannyson, and Mr. Browning, and 
 often Mr. Swinburne, whose star is climbing to a prodigious 
 height in the west, ju.st now. These writers, sensibly 
 enough, aiFect the intellectual development of Upper 
 Canada ; and particularly to the cultivated classes, to college 
 people, among readers who lay aside their philosophy as 
 they find it in Spencer, or Lewes, or Clifford, now and then, 
 to dip into poetry, do these singers offer relaxation and 
 amusement. Ontario poets, when t^r^y are not influenced 
 by these purely English bards, sometimes follow Long- 
 IMlovr, though he has not altogether captivated their ear. 
 University men arc slow to rank him with Matthew 
 A'-nold, Shelle}^ or Arthur Hugh Clough, whom they all 
 worship; but they read him all the same, and perhaps, 
 ;iuniire him. They enjoy his fine culture, his superb 
 scliolarship, the melody of his verse, the beauty, and often 
 sul^limity of his thought ; but Longfellow's Christianity, 
 and religious fervor which break out so frequently in his 
 poetry, and which illumine so much of his work, they, 
 apparently, do not wish to understand or recognize. I use 
 
— 8 
 
 the words "university men" in this instance, as signify- 
 ing a type of character, and illustrative of a class. On the 
 people of the western part of Canada, Longfellow's hold is 
 very strong. They learn morality from him, and high 
 endeavour, and nobility of purpose, and duty. Hi« jwetry 
 has all the effect of beautiful miTsic on the senses. It is 
 stimulating, and encouraging, mid warm. Not a line of it 
 breathes an impurity or a base thought. 
 
 He may be too simple, but his very simplicity is his 
 great source of strength. 
 
 He will always be regarded as a christian poet, as an 
 educator of the people, as a teacher of the principles of 
 freedom and liberty, and as a real humanizing agency, full 
 of good works and truthfulness. 
 
 In Lower Canada, where the highest mental development 
 is especially exemplified by the French writers, who do 
 their work with singular grace and expression, and whose 
 muse takes the spiritiiclle form, Longfellow's influence may 
 be perceived to a large extent. His suggestiveness and 
 harmony can frequently be seen in the poetry of such men 
 as Frechette, Kouthier, Cremazie, Suite and LeMay, and it 
 is worth noting what a controlling tendency such minds as 
 Longfellow's, DeMusset's and Beranger's have had on the 
 intellectual action of these distinguished Canadian poets. 
 The blending of American and French thought forms ai 
 striking combination, and its charming outcome may be 
 easily grasped in many of the very delightful things which 
 these singers have sent out. I'amphile LeMay, a graceful I 
 poet himself, and a writer of exquisite taste and feeling, has! 
 done much to encourage a love of Longfellow among hisi 
 compatriots. It is said that by reading LeMay's "Evangeline'l 
 many persons were induced to learn English, that theyl 
 might get the story at iirst hand and in the exact words ofl 
 its creator. A great deal of the poem's present popularity 
 among the French, is due to LeMay's efforts to crystalliztf 
 
 a 
 
 ye 
 
 im 
 
 En 
 
 one 
 
 his 
 
 tea 
 
 nan 
 

 
 Bignify- 
 On the 
 hold is 
 od high 
 LIS poetry 
 t'S. It is 
 line of it 
 
 ity 
 
 IS 
 
 his 
 
 ,oet, as an 
 Lucipies of 
 geucy, full 
 
 evelopmeut 
 ;rs, who do 
 , and whose 
 fluence may 
 iveness and 
 of such men 
 eMay, and it 
 uch minds as 
 c had on the 
 nadian poets, 
 aght forms a 
 come may he 
 things which 
 ay, a graccfxil| 
 lid feeling, ha^ 
 ow among hisl 
 3 "Evangeline" 
 lish, that they| 
 exact words oi 
 sent popularity 
 ts to crystalliz'i 
 
 it into the susi.'optiblc hearts of his countrymen. For many 
 years, the Longfellow version of the story has been 
 implicitly regarded as historically correct, even among 
 Englishmen, who cared to accept no other authority. This 
 one poem, because of the sympathy of the author, as well as 
 his treatment of the incident, has wound itself around the 
 hearts of the people of French Canada, and Longfellow's 
 name is reverently treasured and respected and loved where- 
 ever "Evangeline" has found a foot-hold. In this connection, 
 it will be found as well to read " Jacques et Marie," Mr. 
 Napoleon Bourassa's spirited account of the dispersed 
 Acadians, and the sufl'erings and adventures through which 
 they passed. Mr. Bourassa is one of our own authors, au 
 artist both in pigments and in letters, and hi.s admirable 
 souvenir of the wholesale eviction, is one of the most 
 interesting historical narratives which we have, from the 
 French point of view. Mr. James Hannay, of New 
 Brunswick, has also treated the stibject at length in his 
 "History of Acadia, ' and presents the English or historical 
 version of the incident. The late Dr. W. J. Anderson, of 
 Quebec, published in the Transactions of this society, part 
 VII, 1870, an instructive paper, entitled : Evaugcline and 
 the Archives of Nova Scotia, in which he discusses the poem 
 by the aid of Dr. T. B. Aikins' valuable volume of Nova 
 Scotia Archives. Mr. Beamish Murdoch's History of Nova 
 Scotia, or Acadie, might also be consulted with advantage 
 by the student. 
 
 It is pretty generally known, I think, that the author 
 never saw the spot which he depicts with such fidelity in 
 this poem. He was sitting in his study, once, when the 
 story was told to him by Hawthorne, who had it from a 
 friend who wished him to make a romance out of it. The 
 novelist had it from a gentleman named ConoUy, who in 
 turn, had learned it from a French-Canadian, whose name, 
 unfortunately, has escaped the record. Hawthorne jotted 
 
— 10 — 
 
 down the tale in his note-book, as he heard it, and one day, 
 he related it to Longfellow, who was so taken and impressed 
 with it, that he begged permission to use it as the ground- 
 work of an idyl. He did this, however, only when he 
 found that his friend had abandoned all intention of 
 employing the simple and tearful legend as a romance. He 
 saw a very great deal in the story. It was full of iwetry in 
 his eyes, and his heart at once went out in sympathy for the 
 exiles and the sore trials they were compelled to sus- 
 tain. He studied Abbe Raynal for information about 
 the home-life and habits of the Acadians, and his history he 
 took from Haliburton. And what a poem he has made out of 
 the slender materials ! Evangeline has become a type of 
 sweet and tender maidenhood, as much of a reality as 
 " Imogen " or " Dosdomona," as gentle a study as " Ophelia." 
 She developes herself in the idyl, and lives in the human 
 breast, this angelic Evangeline pride of the village : — 
 
 "Fair wjis she to beliolil, tliat maiden of seventeen summers. 
 
 Black were her eyes as tlio beriy that grows on the thorn by the way-side, 
 
 Black, yet how softly thoy gleamed beneath tlie brown shade of her tresses! 
 
 Sweet was her breath as the breath (if kine that feed in the meadows. 
 
 When in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers at noontide 
 
 Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah ! fair in sooth was the miiden. 
 
 Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, while the bell from its turret 
 
 Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest with his hyssop 
 
 Sprinkles the congregation, and scatters blessings upon them, 
 
 Down the long street she passed, with the cliaplet of beads and her missal. 
 
 Wearing her Norman cap, and her kirtle of blue, and the ear-rings, 
 
 Brought in the olden time from Franco, and since, as an lieir-loom. 
 
 Handed down from mother to child, through long generations. 
 
 But a celestial brightness — a more etliereal beauty — 
 
 Shone on her face and encircled her form, when, after confession, 
 
 Homeward serenely she walked with God's bt.iediction upon her. 
 
 When she had passed, it seeniod like tlie ceasing of exquisite music." 
 
 Such is the jiortrait of Evangeline which Longfellow has| 
 sketched out for us. The poem is a profound study of thel 
 human emotions, subtle, intense and real. It is elevating ill 
 
11 
 
 Qe day, 
 pressed 
 rronnd- 
 rhen lie 
 ation of 
 ace. He 
 poetry m 
 ly for the 
 
 [ to SUB- 
 
 on about 
 bistory lie 
 lade out of 
 , a type of 
 reality as 
 " Oplielia" 
 the human 
 
 ge:— 
 
 ,y the way-sWc. 
 ' of licr tresses! 
 
 xneadnws. 
 
 Ido 
 den. 
 its turret 
 
 lysaop 
 
 leni, 
 and her mii 
 car-rings, 
 eir-loom, 
 ions. 
 
 .ssal, 
 
 InfcHsion, 
 
 Ipon 
 
 her. 
 
 its thought and morality, aud presents a picture of womanly 
 devotion, womanly affection and womanly sympathy, which 
 no one can examine without feeling deeply moved. When 
 the poet resolved to treat his theme, he looked about him 
 for a suitable measure in which to cast his iiarrative. The 
 English dactylic hexameter promptly suggested itself, — a 
 metre made famous by Voss, in 1195, in his idyllic epic of 
 " Luise ", and later on by Goethe, in his " Hermann and 
 Dorothea." Longfellow wrote Evangeline in that strain 
 because, as he told " BaiTy Cornwall " in his letter ac- 
 companying a presentation copy of the i^oem, " I could not 
 write it as it is in any other ; it would have changed its 
 character entirely to have put it into a different measure." 
 
 The critics are divided on the question of Longfellow's 
 
 masterpiece, the " Song of Hiawatha " contending eagerb'' 
 
 for first place with the talc of " Acadie." The latter was 
 
 the author's own favourite, but those who have studied the 
 
 two poems well, aud measured their relative strength as 
 
 pieces of artistic workmanship, accord the palm to the 
 
 Indian legend, which presents, in such a marked degree, a 
 
 true story of the forest, of rugged nature and of wild life in 
 
 all seasons of the year, in the poet's own country. Hiawatha 
 
 is in every way, an heroic achievement in poetry. Froth- 
 
 iiigham considers it Longfellow's " masterpiece, the fullest 
 
 oxprossion of his mind. Theme and treatment perfectly 
 
 correspond, the former calling forth all the poet's peculiar 
 
 talent ; the latter taxing, yet exquisitely illustrating, his 
 
 literary skill." Rossetti said it Avas "made for posterity 
 
 and permanence." Henry Norman considers it " an example 
 
 of genuine poetic power and sympathy misapplied," and 
 
 thinks that it has exei-ted " a weakening influence on 
 
 American literatiire," but he is clearly wrong in that 
 
 assumption. The poem is full of touches of nature. The 
 
 lisite music. 
 
 I ^^ A of tki^'^^*^*'e^'"*l^^^^'"^& ^'^ admirable, and exhibits remarkable 
 Id s u y ;Jlamiliaritv with all aspects of savage life and custom. The 
 1 is elevating »t 
 
— 12 
 
 poet calls it an edda, and it treats of a tradition current 
 among the Ojibwaj tribe of Indians, the scene being located 
 on the southern shore of Lake Superior, in the region be- 
 tween the Pictured Rocks and the Grand Sable. The 
 measure of the poem is the eight syllable trochaic verse, and 
 it has been parodied and imitated more than any other piece 
 of our day. Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes thinks that Long- 
 fellow, in choosing this peculiar metre, showed " a subtle 
 sense of the requirements of his simple story of a primitive 
 race," his strain being the "most fluid of measures, that 
 lets the thought run through it in easy sing-song, such as 
 oral tradition would be sure to find on the lips of the storj'- 
 tellers of the wigwam." Hiawatha is, perhaps, the best 
 appreciated, as it has been the most widely read, of the 
 poet's longer pieces. There are dramatic fire, strong move- 
 ment, vigorous description, humour and pathos, and all the 
 elements of a great epic in this tunefiil story. The "Wooing, 
 the Wedding Feast, the Lamentation, and the Famine, exhibit 
 various aspees of the poet's genius, and shew in wonderful 
 light, his mastery over the canons of imagery, and his skill 
 in bringing oxit the essence of the great forces of nature 
 while at work. In this grand manner he describes the 
 awful winter, and the famine which followed the storm, the 
 cruel blast and the cold : — 
 
 " O the long <incl dreary winter ! 
 the Cdkl and cruel winter ! 
 Ever tliicker, thicker, thicker 
 Froze tlio ice on lake and river, 
 Ever deeper, deejier, deejier 
 Fell the snow o'er all the landscape, 
 Fell the covering snow, and drifted 
 Through the forest, round the village. 
 Hardly from the buried wigwam 
 Could the hunter force a passage ; 
 With his mittens and his snow-shoes 
 A'^ainly walked ho through the forest, 
 Sought for bird or beast and found none, 
 
— 13 — 
 
 current 
 ' located 
 Tion be- 
 lo. The 
 erse, and 
 her piece 
 at Long- 
 'a subtle 
 primitive 
 ures, that 
 (T, Bucb as 
 ' the story 
 5, the best 
 sad, of the 
 •ong raovc- 
 and all the 
 'he Wooing, 
 riine.exhibit 
 wonderful 
 ,nd his skill 
 .s of nature 
 escribes the 
 be storm, the 
 
 le, 
 
 Saw no track of deer or rabbit, 
 In the snow beheld no foot-prints, 
 In the ghastly, gleaming forest 
 Fell, and could not rise from weakness, 
 Perished there from cold and hunger. 
 
 O the famine and the fever ! 
 O the wasting of the famine ! 
 the blasting of the fever ! 
 O the wailing of the children ! 
 O the anguish of the women !" 
 
 The poet then tells of the entrance into Hiawatha's wig- 
 wam, of Famine, " Buckadawin," and of Fever, " Ahkosewin," 
 and of the death and burial of lovely "Minnehaha," the 
 bride of the young brave : — 
 
 " In the snow a grave they made her, 
 In the forest deep and darksome, 
 Underneath the moaning hemlocks ; 
 Clothed her in her richest garments, 
 Wrapped her in her robes of ennine, 
 Covered her w^ith snow, like ermine ; 
 Thus they buried Minnehaha. " 
 
 Though Hiawatha was violently attacked by the critics, 
 it found great favour with the public, and the printing- 
 press was soon taxed to its capacity to supply the demand. 
 The publishers, however, bitterly resented the newspaper 
 and magazine opinions which came to them by every mail. 
 One day, Mr. Fields, more exercised than usual, by the 
 budget of attacks and parodies which he had received 
 that morning, hurried off to Longfellow's house in Cam- 
 bridge in a state of extraordinary excitement. " My dear 
 Longfellow," he called out as soon as he caught a glimpse 
 of the poet, " these atrocious libels must be stopped." The 
 poet, serene and calm, glanced over the papers, and without 
 a word of comment, archly said, as he handed them back to 
 the publisher, "by the way, Fields, how is 'Hiawatha' 
 selling?" "Wonderfully, none of your books has ever had 
 
14 — 
 
 such a salo." "Then," said Longfellow softly and with a 
 smile, " I think we had hotter let these people go oji 
 advertising it." In the short space of two years, fifty 
 thousand copies were sold in the United States alone. 
 
 But Longfellow cared verj'- little for the attacks of critics 
 or enemies. He used to say that whenever he encountered 
 anything unpleasant about him in his newspaper, or in 
 articles sent him l)y those good-natured friends who think 
 that authors like to read such things, he would look at a 
 few lines, and then quietly throw the offensive thing into 
 the fire, and it xvonld never trouble him again. 
 
 Dr. Japp, author of a study of Thoreau, who writes learned- 
 ly of the Puritan element in Longfellow, finds something of 
 that quality in the poem of "Hiawatha," and traces its 
 movement and play of fancy through the light of that 
 agency. But Longfellow's j)uritanism is more strongly 
 emphasized in the " Courtship of Miles Standish," and in 
 the " New England Tragedies," which breathe out in every 
 line, the true spirit of the doctrine of that faith. " Standish " 
 is the greater poem, more dramatic even than the tragedies, 
 more spirited in movement, and the warm pulsating figures 
 with which it is peopled, lend a genuine reality and verisi- 
 militude to the performance. There is a certain grim and 
 dry humour developed by the poet in this quaint conceit. 
 The gruff" puritan captain, too busy to do his own courting, 
 despatches his friend and companion at arms, comely John 
 Alden, to the home of the modest and fair Priscilla, one of 
 the charmingest maidens in poetry, and bids him woo her 
 for him. In war and in great affliirs the captain's maxim, 
 from a boy, had been " if you wish a thing to be well done,! 
 you must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others," 
 but an affiiir of the heart was quite too trivial, and love, hej 
 thought, could be developed just as well by proxy. Perhaps, 
 the old bear thought that he could command a maiden'sl 
 heart as he could command his araiy of twelve soldiers. 
 
 Aide 
 may- 
 thon< 
 thouj 
 
 fellov 
 
 thatd 
 
 have ] 
 
 for ^t, 
 
 of his 
 
 his me 
 
 could ] 
 
 She spi 
 
 roses :- 
 
 ' If th 
 
 \V'hy doe! 
 If I am n( 
 Then Johi 
 I Making it 
 Had no ti 
 I Pell on tJi 
 ' Haa 1: 
 ^^'ould he 
 That in tJ; 
 ^Vhenyo. 
 I Wioosingj 
 I Tlicn you 
 I And are o:.^ 
 [Does not r| 
 
 In thi 
 
 laatters 
 Wes, th<| 
 I excited 
 iPedigreel 
 
 "But as hi 
 [Quite forgJ 
 [Archly the] 
 ^. ina 
 
— 15 — 
 
 with a 
 go on 
 
 rs, ftfty 
 
 le. 
 
 )f critics 
 onuteYed 
 er, or in 
 ho think 
 look at a 
 hing iato 
 
 cs leariiod- 
 nething of 
 . traces its 
 hi of that 
 -e strongly 
 3h," and in 
 3ut in every 
 " J^^tandish" 
 LC tragedies, 
 ting figures 
 and verisi- 
 u grim and 
 laint conceit, 
 n courting, 
 ,omely John 
 sciUa, one of 
 Ihim woo her 
 ain's maxim, 
 be well done 
 it to others,' 
 , and love, he 
 
 Alden set out on his task. On the way he plucked some 
 may-flowers for Priscilla, whom he really loved himself, 
 though he dared not say so. His passion was returned, 
 though so well concealed, that the brave and lithe young 
 fellow scarcely knew his good fortune. "When he saw her 
 that day singing and spinning in her quiet home, he might 
 have had her for his bride for the asking, but his friendship 
 for Standish stood in the way, and he began to ply the suit 
 of his chief. He lost all his finesse^ and bluntly delivered 
 his message like a schoolboy. Priscilla, annoyed and vexed, 
 could not brook such a system of business-like love-making. 
 She spoke out, and we may be sure her cheeks tingled with 
 
 roses : — 
 
 ' If the great captain of Plymouth is 30 very eager to wed me, 
 Why does lie not come himself, and take the trouble to woo me ? 
 If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not worth the winning ! ' 
 Then John Alden began explaining and smoothing tlio matter. 
 Making it worse as he went, by saying the captain was busy, — 
 Had no time for such things ; — such things ! the words grating harslily 
 Fell on the ear of Priscilla ; and swift as a flash she made answer : 
 
 ' Has ho no time for such things, as you call it, before he is married, 
 Would he be likely to find it, or make it, after the wedding? 
 That in the way with you men ; you don't understand us, you cannot. 
 When you have made up your minds, after thinking of this one and that one, 
 Choosing, selecting, rejecting, comparing one with anotlior. 
 Then you make known your desire, with abrupt and sudden avowal, 
 And are oflFended and hurt, and indignant perhaps, that a woman 
 Does not resjiond at once to a love that she never suspected . ' 
 
 In this strain the poem goes on. Alden tries to make 
 
 i matters better for his friend, but all in vain. The more he 
 
 I tries, the deeper involved he becomes. He gets warm and 
 
 excited over his praises of Standish, wb* could trace his 
 
 pedigree back to the days of Thurston de Standish. 
 
 " But as ho warmed and glowed, in his simple and eloquent language, 
 PerhapSilQuite forgetful of self, and full of the praise of his rival, 
 , TTiaiden'sl^rchly the maiden smiled, and, with eyes overrunning with laughter, 
 
 1 ligjglSaid, in a tremulous voice, " Why don't you speak for yourself, John 1 " 
 
 boxy 
 
— IC — 
 
 Aud the sequel to all this delightful fooling was that 
 John and Priscilla were married, and when the grim cap- 
 tain got over his rage and mortification he forgave them 
 both, like the brave and hearty soldier that he was. 
 
 But, as Longfellow somewhere else says : — 
 
 ' ' No one is so accursed by fate, 
 No one so utterly desolate, 
 
 But some lieurt, though unknown, 
 llesponds unto his own," 
 
 Miles Standish won a wife at last. One Barbara came 
 out to the colony in the " Fortune, " and the captain having 
 learned wisdom by sad experience, this time did his 
 own courting. The kindly maiden smiled upon his suit, 
 and the twain were made one. Six children blessed 
 their union, and many of their descendants are still in the 
 land of the living. 
 
 During the time that transcendentalism, — that airy 
 shadow of forty years ago, — was shaping the thought and 
 poetry of New England, Longfellow held aloof from its 
 teachings, and clung to his puritanism. His verse, always 
 mellow and free-flowing, was unchilled by its influence, 
 and unclouded by its presence. It sometimes guided him 
 into a statelier form of measure than he usually employed in 
 his rhythmical IjtIcs, but it never really controlled his muse. 
 He yielded to sudden impulse, now and then, and wrote 
 often when impelled by some power which he could not 
 shake off, but this influence cannot be traced to the 
 puritanism in his nature, which usually had the effect of 
 checking exuberancy rather than promoting or stimulating 
 it. 
 
 Most of Longfellow's better known poems have a history. 
 The late James T. Fields, who was intimate with the poet, 
 knew the origin of several of them, and has left recorded 
 the interesting story of their birth. The " Psalm of Life," j 
 the oft-quoted burst of song which sprang from the poet's 
 
 inmo; 
 tJiirtj 
 
IT — 
 
 as that 
 im cap- 
 re them 
 
 ara cam*'- 
 in having 
 did his 
 I his suit, 
 a blessed 
 still in the 
 
 -that airy 
 ought and 
 )f from its 
 rse, always 
 influence, 
 Tuided him 
 mployed m 
 !d his muse, 
 and wrote 
 could not 
 ced to the 
 he effect of 
 stimulating 
 
 ve a history, 
 th the poet, 
 eft recorded 
 Im of Life," 
 n the poet's 
 
 inmo.st heart, wiifs written when lx)iii?Iellow Wiis only 
 tliirty-one years of age. He was sitting bet we. n two 
 windows, at a small table in his eliamber, lookinj^' t>ut on a 
 bright suunner morning in July, 18-'JS, when the l)euutil'iil 
 I'salm eame into his mind, and with scarcely an effort, he 
 penned the lines where he sat. His lieart vva.s very full, 
 and he kept the poem by him for some months before he 
 gave it to the world. It was a voice from liis very soul, 
 and he could not send it out then, for his own heart was 
 bleeding over a private grief The poem of " The Ileaper 
 and the Flowers" also came without an effort, and the^line 
 •'There is a Reaper, who.se name is Death," crystallized 
 immediately into liis mind, and as he rapidly wrote down 
 the stanzas, his eyes filled with t(nirs. " Tht! light of Stars " 
 was composed on a serene and beautiful simimer evening, 
 exactly suggestive of the poem. " The Wreck of the 
 Hesperus" was written in 18:J0. A storm had occurred the 
 I night before, and as the poet sat musing and smoking his 
 pipe, about midnight, by the fire, the wrecked "Hesperus" 
 came sailing into his mind. lie jotted down some lines, 
 then went to bed, but the mad idea seizt-d him and he could 
 not sleep. He got up, and wrote the celebrated verses, 
 which gave him part of liis fame. The clock struck three, 
 Iwhen the minstrel's last verse was done : — 
 
 " Such was tlio wreck of thu Hesiiorus, 
 111 the niidnight and the snow I 
 Christ save us all from a deatli hke this, 
 On tlio reef of Norman's Woe ! " 
 
 That other noble ballad, "The Skeleton in Armour," 
 appeared in 1849. The vision encountered him as he was 
 [iding along the beach at Newport, on a summer's afternoon, 
 short time before that a skeleton had been dug up at Fall 
 fiver, clad in broken and corroded armour. It made a pro- 
 bund impression on the poet, who connected the skeleton 
 
n 
 
 his : 
 toujo 
 
 W'itli the Round Tower, usually kuowu to the people in the 
 vi«!inity, as the Old Windmill. At tli" pn'scnt diiy, the 
 tower is elainied by the Danes as the work ol" their early 
 aiieestors. So relial)le an authority as I'lKfessor Kal'n 
 inclines to this view, and deelait's th" structure to ])e a 
 genuine specimen of architecture, huilt not later than the 
 12th century. This applies, ol' coursi', to the oiij^inal 
 building at Newport ojily. and not to the "improvements" 
 that it has received I'roni time to time, since it was first 
 erected. There are several such alterations in the uppi.-r 
 part of the biiildin<>- whioh cannot be mistaken, and 
 were probaldy used in modern times For dillerent purposes 
 The windmill was a later alteration, but the base remains 
 in all its ancient glory. These are the materials which 
 supplied Longfellow with a ther.ie for a ballad. The 
 skeleton would not be laid until the solitary horseman 
 promised a poem. " Excelsior " 0W(>s its origir. to accident. 
 The poet happem^d to see the word on a torn i*ie(;e of news- 
 paper, one autunux night in 1841. It at once fired his 
 imagiii ation , and taking up a slip ofpa])er, which happened I story 
 to be the back of a letter received that day from Charlcsljn ^^^ 
 Sumner, he crowded it with verses. " The Old Clock on thelpoj. .^ i^ 
 Stairs." — one of the most dramatic things that the author haslaud ^^ ^ 
 given us, was based on a remarkable sermon which a greatluoyjj^y i 
 French divine, Pere Jacques liridaine preached on eternitylp(„,^,,„ ■ 
 in 1754, at the Church of Saint Nulpice, in Paris. Hiic'aj-y 
 compared eternity to the i^endulum of a clock, whicliluiji^jj j^g 
 ceaselessly murmured Toujoiirs! Jamais! Jamais! To/'/yW''' lis most 
 Forever, never, never, forever! This S(>rmon causeaing- p]jj.| 
 extraordinary excitement at the time in the French capitallDa„|gg , 
 and people were driven, in some instanci's, into insanitltljt, ^.fy^^ 
 over the wild thought which grew from too much pondeipoiio-m^ " 
 ing over the idea. As soon as Longfellow read the sermoiiiup p^^^^^ 
 he was struck with its awful power, and the startliiiBiin]igj. ^ 
 figure which it conveyed. He could not get it out <Kreene 
 
 Long 
 
 WHS liin 
 
 was var 
 
 ff> good 
 
 va.st (juj 
 
 I'l'.st a PI 
 
 or 
 
19 
 
 plo in tUo 
 day, the 
 lu'ir I'lirly 
 S80V Kal'n 
 r.» to bi' iv 
 r tliivu thi' 
 10 ont^vnal 
 ovonieuts " 
 it wixa Iirst 
 . thi' iipp*'!^ 
 tuken, and 
 ni purposfs 
 ast' r»'mi\ins 
 .rii\ls which 
 baUad. Tho 
 
 his mind for sovoral days. " Toiijoiirs, jamais, jamais, 
 toujour^," ran in his hoiid, and his thouufhts turned in- 
 rt'ssiuitly to the musical ndVaiii. JI(^ was haunted as it' by a 
 uii^htniare, and was himself again, only when he hfad 
 completed his poem : — 
 
 " Nuvcr liLiu, fiiicvor tlifiu, 
 Wlieru all imrtiiig, luiin and euro. 
 And (k'litli, and time Hliall disappear, — 
 Furever theiv, Imt ntver liciv, 
 Thii hi)i-(iltij^i! (if Ktornity 
 Siiyi'tli tlu;s inct'smuitly, — 
 ' Foi'iiver — nuvur I 
 Never -forever !' " 
 
 Longfellow achieved distinction as a translator. He 
 
 was familiar with many foreign languages. Ilis reading 
 
 vy horsi'niaii I was A'aried and wide, and many an old legend was turned 
 
 ,1 to accident. I to good account. In the by-ways of Europe he found a 
 
 (ieee of news- 1 vast quantity of well-nigh forgotten tales, and some of his 
 
 \\{'<}. fired hislbest appreciated poems owe their existence to som<' humble 
 
 lich happened I story or incident in folk lore. J lis greatest effort, however, 
 
 roui CharWiiu the way of translation, is his version in linglish of Dante. 
 
 Clock on tlwlFor along time, Gary's copy was the recognized edition, 
 
 he author hasi and so far Ijack as 1809, the Nor^/i Avtcrican Review pro- 
 
 w'hich a greatluounced it, with conlidence, the most literal translation in 
 
 d on eternityipoetry, in our language, and Prescott wrote, in 1824, of 
 
 u I'aris. i^'l^'ary, " I think Dante would have given him a place in his 
 
 clock, whicliiiiinth heaven, if ho covdd have foreseen his translation. It 
 
 nah \ Toi'jonnlk most astonishing, giving not only the literal correspond- 
 
 ■rmon catiseiliiig- phrases, but the spirit of the original, the true 
 
 Vrench capitalDantesque manner. It should be cited as an evidence of 
 
 into insanitlthe compactness, the pliability, the sweetnessof the English 
 
 much pond*'iiiongue." In 1839, the year when Longfellow published 
 
 ead the serinoiiiive passages from the Purgatorio, Cary's reputation stood 
 
 d the startlii'liiiiher than it did in 1824. A recent writer, Ueorge "W. 
 
 o-et it out wtreone, who died in the early part of this year (1883), and 
 
— 20 — 
 
 u mail wi'll versod in tho Italian lanc^uaire and poetry, 
 nuide a masterly nn'iew of Diinte's Divina Commedia, and 
 install cod comparisons between Cary and Lonfrfellow, and 
 nnhesitatingly stated that the latter's work, with its fotir- 
 toen thousand two hundred and seventy-ei*i'ht lines, 
 corresponds, word for word, with the orij^inal Italian ; and 
 no one claims that much for Cary. The leading scholars of 
 the day, Charles Eliot Norton among the number, unite in 
 the opinion that Longfellow's translation is the only pure 
 English version of the Italian, and must be accepted as the 
 standard. Mr. Greene, in his estimate, was very careful 
 and impartial, and the long excerpts which he made, proved 
 the best authorities he could have for his statements. When 
 the poet was engaged in correcting the proof-sheets of the 
 Inferno, he invited Mr. Norton and Mr. James Russell 
 Lowell, to aid him in the work of final revision. The 
 former gentleman, then professor of the history of Art at 
 Harvard university, gives this brief account of their meet- 
 ings : — " Every Wednesday evening," he says, "Mr. Lowell 
 and I met in Mr. Longfellow's study, to listen while he read 
 a canto of his translation from the proof-sheet. We paused 
 over every doixbtful passage, discussed the various readings, 
 considered the true meaning of obscure words and phrases, 
 sought for the most exact equivalent of Dante's expression, 
 objecttnl, criticized, praised with a freedom that was made 
 perfect by Mr. Longfellow's absolute sweetness, simplicity 
 and modesty, and by the entire confidence; which existed 
 between us." Longfellow performed his task, — a real 
 labour of love, — with perfect sympathy. While at work, 
 he wrote to a friend, " how dill'erent from the gossip is the 
 divine Dante with which I begin the morning! I write a 
 few lines every day before breakfast. It is the first thing I 
 do — the morning prayer, the key-note of the day." 
 
 There was a sad tragedy in the j>oet's life, and for a whili 
 
— 21 
 
 )etry, 
 
 , and 
 
 , and 
 fotir- 
 
 liuos, 
 
 ; and 
 
 liars of 
 
 lite in 
 
 y puro 
 
 . as the 
 
 cateiul 
 
 proved 
 When 
 
 s of "the 
 
 Hussell 
 
 11. The 
 
 »f Art at 
 
 ir meet- 
 
 . Lowell 
 
 } he read 
 pansed 
 cadings, 
 phrases, 
 iression, 
 as made 
 mplicity 
 existed 
 a real 
 d, work, 
 ^ip is the 
 write a 
 It thing I 
 
 aw 
 
 hile 
 
 it threatened to cloud his whole future, but time, that sub- 
 lime healer of all our woes and sorrows, intervened, and 
 after some anxious years had passed away, the golden 
 sunshine streamed into Longfellow's heart again, and glad 
 songs from his muse once more trilled upon the air. He 
 had been twice married. His first wift^ was Mary Storer 
 Potter, daiTghter of the Hon. Barrett Potter, of Portland, 
 Me., a descendant of one of the founders of the New Haven 
 Colony. His bride was a very lovely woman, accomplished 
 hi several branches of science, languages and literature, 
 beautiful in person and amiable in disposition. The marriage 
 took place in the month of September, 1831, but the happy 
 domestic life of the poet was destined to bo of short 
 duration. In November, 1836, Mrs. Longfellow died at 
 Rotterdam, and her husband tenderly commemorated her 
 worth and gentleness in his touching poem, entitled " The 
 footsteps of Angels." But it was in connection with his 
 second marriage, that one of the sorest trials which ever came 
 toman, occurred to Longfellow. The reader of that delicate 
 and plcf-santly-told story, "Hyperion," is doubtless familiar 
 with the incident illustrating the meeting of " Paul Flem- 
 ming " and " Mary Ashburton," and what followed after 
 those attractive young people had been together some time. 
 In real lif(\ Longfellow met Francos Elizabeth Appleton in 
 much the same way. She was the l)rilliant daughter of 
 Nathan Appleton, of Boston, and the sister of Thomas G-old 
 Appleton, who judges paintings as well as he writes books. 
 Underwood, who knew her intimately, describi>s her as the 
 possessor of every grace of " inind and }H'rson that could 
 charm the soul of a poet." He says, "her remarkable 
 beauty was litly accompanied by a serene dignity of man- 
 ner ; and it may be added that, later, as a matron, she w^as 
 even more beautiful than in her fresh youtli. With her 
 children about her she looked a proud Cornelia." Lou""- 
 fellow's story vras published in 183!*. It will be remembered 
 
00 
 
 that the hero is rojectod by Mary Ashburton. So, it is said, 
 that Longfellow's suit was not at first acceptable to Miss 
 Appleton, that ho too was dismissed, but as the years wore 
 on a change came over her, and she claimed a woman's 
 privilege and changed her mind. When the romance was 
 published, everybody seemed to know that Paul and Mary- 
 had living prototypes in the poet and his sweetheart, and 
 the arch song, beginning " I know a maiden fair to see," 
 had a delicious .significance. This ballad occurs in 
 "Hyperion," and as a remindi^r, I may quote a verse or 
 two : — 
 
 ' ' I know a maiden fair to see ; 
 Take care I 
 She can both false and friendly be. 
 Beware ! Beware ! 
 Trust her not, 
 She is fooling thee ! 
 
 She luu twt) eyes, so soft and brown ; 
 
 Take caro ! 
 She gives a side-glance and looks down. 
 Beware 1 Beware I 
 Trust her not, 
 She is fooling thee ! " 
 
 And the last verse : — 
 
 ' ' She gives thee a garland woven fair ; 
 Take care ! 
 It is a fool's cap for thee to wear. 
 Beware ! Beware ! 
 Trust her not, 
 She is fooling thee ! " 
 
 Of coiirso that sort of thing could not go on long. The 
 lady yielded to her passionate lover of thirty-live, and in 
 July, 1843, the two were wed. Of this union, five children 
 ■were born, two sons and three daughters, Ernest, the 
 Artist, and Charles, the Cavalry Captain, Alice and Anna, 
 
— 23 — 
 
 The 
 lid ill 
 [idren 
 the 
 
 Lnna, 
 
 and " Edith with golden hair." Thomas Buchanan Read, 
 who wrote the martial poem of " Sheridan's Kide," painted 
 the three daughters as children. The pieture was after- 
 wards engraved and sold. The groui)ing of the young 
 ladies left the impression that one of th(>m had no arms, and 
 so natural was this appearance, that the poet was often 
 asked if one of his children had really been born without 
 arms. A few years ago, Mi.ss Edith was married to Richard 
 H. Dana, sen of the author of " Two years before the mast," 
 and the eminent counsel in b(,'half of the United States, 
 during the sitting of the Halifax Fishery Commission. 
 
 Longfellow took his bride to the spacious Craigic; house, 
 in Cambridge, Washington's old head-cjiiarters, after the 
 battle of Bunker Hill. "This famous house," wrote Dr. 
 Lyman Abbott, in 1881, "with its great fireplaces, its 
 generously proportioned rooms, its hospitable hall and 
 broad staircase, its quaint carvings and tiles, is itself an 
 historic poem. The study is a busy literary man's work- 
 shop ; the table is piled with pamphlets and papers in 
 orderly confusion ; a high desk in one corner suggests a 
 practice of standing while writing, and gives a hint of one 
 secret of the poet's singularly erect form at an age when 
 the body generally begins to stoop and the shoulders to 
 grow round ; an orange tree stands in one wnndow, near it 
 a stuffed stork keeps watch ; by the side of the open fire js 
 the ' children's chair,' on the table is Coleridge's inkstand ; 
 upon the walls are crayon likenesses of Emerson, Haw- 
 thorne and Sumner, and in one of the bookcases which fill 
 all the spare wall-space and occupies even one of the 
 windows, are rai*est treasures of all, the poet's own works in 
 their original maniiscript, carefully preserved in handsome 
 substantial bindings. The study was "Washington's room, 
 the parlour opposite was known as " Lady Wp.5hington's 
 parlour." The family library, a delightful, long, many- 
 windowed apartment in the rear, was appropriated under 
 
— 24 — 
 
 Washington to the aides-de-cainp." This old house is 
 worth a pilgrimage, to seo. It is historic in two depart- 
 ments of human activity, war and pi'at.-o. Onco Miss Long- 
 fellow asked a rosy-cheeked child at Sunday School, why 
 Americans kept AVashington's birth-day, and received for 
 an answer from the urchin, "because he lived in your 
 house." Edward Everett, and .Tared Sparks, the historian, 
 lived in this grand and stately dwelling once, and so did 
 Joseph Worcester, the lexicographer, alld the list of 
 eminent persons who have, from time to time, spent one or 
 more nights under its hospital)le roof, would swell to the 
 dimensions of a large book, if r(>c:illed. At this residence, 
 the poet received many strange visitors. An Englishman 
 called there once, and after a -word or two, he said, " My dear 
 sir, you have no old ruins in this country, and so I thought 
 I would come and see you.'''' A lady from the same locality, 
 on being introduced, exclaimed, " Why Mr. Longfellow, I 
 thought you wer^' dead ! " " No, madam, you see I take the 
 liberty of living." " Yes, — but, I thought you belonged to 
 Washington's time." But perhaps the best of the anecdotes 
 told of the poet, is the one relat(>d by William Winter, who 
 had it some years ago from Longfellow himself A gentle- 
 man was led xip to the bard, and presented, when he cried 
 out, with enthusiasm, " Mr. Longfellow, I have long 
 ago desired the honour of knowing you. Sir, I am one of 
 the/eitf men w^ho liaAe read your Evangeline." 
 
 Longfellow took his bride to his pleasant home, and they 
 lived happily together until July 4th, 1861, when the fear- 
 ful tragedy occurred. Mrs. Longfellow was seated in a 
 room with her husband and children. She was dressed in 
 flowing muslin, and while engaged in some household duty, 
 by sad mischance her garments caught lire from a lighted 
 match. In a moment, she was all aflame. Mr. Longfellow 
 lost no time in seizing a large rug, which he attempted to 
 roll about her to extinguish the lire, but his efforts were 
 
 \ 
 
— 25 
 
 they 
 
 le iear- 
 
 iu a 
 
 sed in 
 
 duty, 
 
 ighted 
 
 fellow 
 
 ted to 
 
 were 
 
 vain. She had received injuries whieh i>roved mortal, and 
 very soou .she died. H(>r husband's haud^s and face were 
 severely ])urued, and his i>Tief and horror at his terrible 
 loss aijed him in a ni<iht. The poet was never quite him- 
 self airain from that dreadful moment. He kept his grief 
 to himself, and nursed in his heart the sw(?et and fragrant 
 memory oi the kindly woman he had loved so dearly. 
 
 Longfellow was peculiarly the children's poet. He was 
 ever available to them, and loved them all tenderly, and 
 never failed to give them pleasant greeting at all seasons 
 and at all times. He entertained some school girls at his 
 house one day, and ont; of them, out of gratitude, sent him 
 an iron pen made from a fetter of Bonuivard, the prisoner of 
 Chillon, immortalized by Byron, and a bit of wood from the 
 frigate " Constitution," ornamented with precious stones 
 from Siberia, Ceylon and the State of Maine. Back to the 
 yoiing maiden came a poem of thanks, addressed to 
 " Beautiful Helen of Maine." Of the gift, he says that it is 
 to him : — 
 
 " As a drop of the clew oi your youtli 
 On the leaves of an {vged tree." 
 
 ThtMhildren of Cambridge presented him with an arm- 
 chair, on the 27th of February, 1879, on the occasion of his 
 sev(Mity-second birth-day. It was made of the wood of the 
 Village Blacksmith's Chestnut tree. For this charming 
 testimonial he n^tuvniHlsome gracofnl verses. thiM'oncluding 
 lines ])eing: — 
 
 " Only your love and your remembrance cnuld 
 (live life ti> tliis dead wood, 
 .\nd make these branches, leafless now so hing, 
 Blossom again in song." 
 
 Liiigi Monti, who saw the incident liimself, tells of a 
 little girl, who on one Christmns-day enquired the way to 
 the poet's house, and asked permission to step into the yard. 
 
 3 
 
', ■■-'..Jip 
 
 — 20 — 
 
 Oil Longfellow beinq" told that she was there, he wont to 
 the door and called her in, and showed her the " old cloek 
 on the stairs," and some other things, which we may 
 believe, were of especial interest to her. The child went 
 away at last iilled with ij'rateful recolle(-tions of that 
 Christmastide. But Longfellow was forever doing kindly 
 and generous things, and his warm, loving heart went out 
 to the little ones always. 
 
 In person, he was a handsome man. His mien was 
 thoughtful, his figure erect as an arrow, and his eye was 
 blue and liquid, and full of good humour, and his manner 
 was as gentle as a woman's. The world to him was always 
 very beautiful. He looked out upon it, and saw there, only 
 the sweetnesses of life! bright realities and the goodness of 
 Grod. and he sought to make all those around him happy, 
 contented and joyous. The world too, was very good to 
 him, and when he died he had hi;s share of years and 
 honours. His record is the record of one who lived a blame- 
 less life. The world was brighter because he was in it, and 
 now that he has passt^d away, his name and work survive. 
 Men of the future will keep his memory green, and the 
 story of his splendid manhood, and the undying treasures 
 of his verse, will nev«'r fade from people's minds, nor perish 
 iu the gaunt march of centuries : — 
 
 ■' Ho is dojvd, tlie sweet uiiisiuian ! 
 He the sweetest of all singers I 
 He has gone from us forever. 
 Ho has moved a little neiirer. 
 To the master of all music, 
 To the master of all singing." 
 
"-^<^mm