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|)iffnf 
 
 llir fiillowMiK .iciniiiu of Siiliwy Unicr* nrlicr life y,t> 
 llrl |MtlilMi<'<| Ml /A,. I H,U- fi nit Hi, New York. NovciiiImt 
 ■111, IIKHJ, ami IS nprrxliict'il in a nlJiihily nilarKcU form by 
 iHrnii-sii.ii (if |>r. William llayi* Ward, I'.clMur .,( that pe- 
 rii.i|ic.il an. I writ.r i.l iIk- a<ltiiirabli' NUnuirial (jrifaced t.i 
 ilir <iiiii|il,ii- <'<liii.iii <>( the I'lxmt Thr (Hjeni, life ami 
 "^"iiH. 'Ill paK»- :i, \i Ulcd liy p^•^Ini^.^io^ uf .\lis,rs. 
 < lia'lis StTiliiirrs Scm-, and llic youthful portrail by 
 l«rnii-.i.jii „i .Messrs. Houghton, .Mirtlin It Lonipany 
 and l'rofrss.)r Kdwin Mims. in hIiom Lift of Sulnfy 
 I UHur II apptars. Phe lelter of whuli a paur u ri-prudiicrd 
 Mi fac-nnilr »va> lent by Mrs W A l|.,p>.,n, of Macon, (ja.. 
 by wli'm- i-ouric»y aUo I am ciialdeil lo (|iiut<: the poem, 
 ■/" 6. //., and the paisages iliat follow from the Lanier- 
 llopson c.rrespondenic .\lr». Sidney Lanier, widow of the 
 |KK-t, kindly examim-<| the ..riginal .M.S. ami made several 
 valnabli- o.rroctions ami stiK){i-<ition<, I am nnicli indcht.-.l 
 aKo In .Mr Harry .«iil«<!l Edwards, for his thonglitfnl 
 word> ni lntr..diKiion, ;.i,d to .Mr. C. E. Cainplwll, of Macon, 
 whose memory and intiresl have been of constr..,. service 
 I would rccoKni/e «iili t.rai,T,„|, ,!„, cooperation of all 
 iliese friendly aiders. 
 
 The Umklet is issued under the auspices of the Sidney 
 l-anur Chapter of the fnilid OaiiKhters of the Con fedcmr v . 
 an<l It is nitende<l -hat a portiiMi of the proieeds shall be 
 devt>ted to Lanier memorial purposes under tin control an<l 
 tlin-clioii of this ( 'li,i|iifr. G. H. C 
 
 .Macon. ( ,,i , .M.n, i;)07 
 
 G69799 
 
^mn^immv^tn^n^s^Mn^ 
 
 ILiff cinh i5>ong 
 
 It ;if«' wcri; raiiKlil 1,> a clarioncl. 
 
 \inl a »iM heart, tlirtil.liinjr in ||„- ,..,.,1 
 Sli.Mild tlirill its joy ami trill its ir, i. 
 
 Ami) utur its heart in every (ittil. 
 
 Then uuiili! this breathing clariomt 
 lypp what the poet fain wcjnUj |„ : 
 
 1 '>r tinric of the singer- ever yet 
 lias uholly lived his niinstrcK>. 
 
 Or .liarlx snnR In. true, true thoiiylii, 
 ilr ntieri> l..,.lir,l forth his life. 
 
 Or ..111 ..f life and -onu has wrought 
 The perfect one ..f man and wife: 
 
 Or live.l and sung, that Life and S.iiig 
 Mi.ght each e.vpres. the other's all. 
 
 Circles- if life or art were long 
 
 .Sinee li.ith were ..lie. t.. -land ..r f.ill. 
 
 •S.. that the H.m.kr -trnck the c-.iwd. 
 
 Wlio shouted it al.out the land: 
 His si'iig uas i')ih liviiig ahmd, 
 
 His -M>rk. o sinniiii; with his hninl' 
 
 - .Sidney Lanier. lS6s 
 
 (Copyright l.y Mary D. Lanier. V«oA l.y permis,i,.n of Messrs 
 Charles .Scrii.ner'. S..T.S. I 
 
t^ 
 
 Sntrobuctioii 
 
 It i~ one of the mysttrie": tliat we in reality learn n.4liiim 
 vital fr<.ni the piuts except to rcali«-. That which they 
 tdiich within iis is there awaiting the toncli.— planted with 
 the soul, in the soul Or is it the soulr 
 
 Ihey teach us. hut they teach us to ^e,• farther and hear 
 letter. They awaken the nnder,tanding to it.s own deep-laid 
 invironment. and appeal to the perfection ..f the nndrcamed- 
 of knowledge within ns. Of the little world wr inhabit they 
 make a universe and open every winilow into an eterpity of 
 time and space. We learn without the poet-, hut without 
 iheni we cuiild never rer.lize fully, that the ,oiil is not ini- 
 l.nsoned. We can find our way wnhout them, hut not the 
 harbor. 
 
 Who are the poets? They are tlie men of the chisel, the 
 brush, the viol and the pen whose work reveals us to our- 
 selves. These, alone, knock at the loor of our third nature, 
 our third selves. For. if we are fashioned after Go,!, made 
 m Ihs image, we are each three in one. When ,e know 
 what is the third in the H..ly TrinitC. we shall know what 
 is third in us. Shall we call it the Eternal Femmine? It 
 will serve. We oidy kn..w that it is at the foot of this 
 throne the poet kneels. 
 
 It is easier with this i.rni l,. reali/e the .Motherhood in 
 nature: to know that the color ..f the leaves, the blush and 
 perfume of the ros,.. the whiteness of the lily, the son^r nf 
 the birds, the sunrise an<l the sunset, the sohum umrmur of 
 the tidal marsh, stars whose Klittering silence is unheard 
 music, are not elemental facts, but ilie expression of some- 
 thing l,ehiiid,-of that whicli IS the source of all thini;- 
 beaiitiful. tender, good, happy, exalted and peaceful; of iIr- 
 universal .Mother whose hereditary lines are graven in us 
 Here is tlie poefs chosen home, tli,- l.,nd of our half- 
 dreamed dr<ams. the land toward which at some time every 
 man and woman has yearned. 
 
 .'\nd its gateway lies in every soul. 
 
 What ha- ihis t,, ,lo with the work tli.it follows? This. 
 I he people «ho knew and loved him as little realized the 
 greatness of Sidney Lanier and his missic i as thev di<l the 
 writings on the r own so„|s "is not this the Carpenter's 
 
HliUrobuction 
 
 ^im'r" was not more naturally :i-l«<l in the ages gotir. iIkih 
 were the l|nr^lil)n^ llial MirnninMi ■! the developing jjeinns 
 ipf our beloved townsman. (lentlenian, nnisician; eliaste, 
 lovable, brave and kcmitimis? ^■e•- . xranled in a breath. A 
 |ii»-l nneiinalled in \nienca ; Hardly. He was to teach 
 ns all k'ttcr Whiii we learned to read our own hieroylyph 
 ies. Lamer'* nie<~axe needeil no translation. It bail Ijeeii 
 niiilerstood. 
 
 It fell to the writer of these line- to pnpare. a- innior 
 editor of 7/ir .l/ii. .-ii Telegraph. In- home paper. Uinier's 
 obiinary a (juarter of a century Mine. He ha<l a- little idea, 
 with all his boyi-li admiration lor a great man. of the real 
 (.■reatnes- of Lanier, as li.id the average citi7eii. It was only 
 after the bnnian voire annihilated -pace over a wire, a lab 
 
 • .ratory toy develirped into the w-irld's great illuminator, in- 
 tricate sounds were written on a disc for reproduction, ami 
 Hirele— messages tonclud with con-cionsnes- the -eparated 
 ii.nids of men, that he fully realized the depth, the beauty, 
 the gooi|ne-s of one he wa- woiii to meet upon the streets, 
 l.anier'- mos-age had gone roinxl the world and come back. 
 It was the same message, but the man and the men wli.i 
 caught it better iinderstoo<l th,at while they slept this pale- 
 faced coniradt- who bad slept on the N'irginia hills with the 
 -tarlight in hi- eyes, had risen to hurl jewi-lled -pears into 
 the future and set the bounds of knowledge where they fell. 
 
 We are -till picking up these jewcl.s 
 
 In the article that follows Profes,or Clarke has ski fully 
 outlined Sidney Lanier in the environment that produceil 
 him. Hi- reference to .Vlacon is especially ajit and charm 
 ing. a history in few lines, delicately conveying a flavor of 
 the Old South. His reference to Lanier K-tray- the student 
 .iiid the -yiii|iatliet!c Mid appreciative friend of the poet 
 1 he work, though short, becomes at once an important 
 
 • hapter in the world's hi-tory of Lanier yet to be gathered 
 and boiiiiil. 
 
 II.VRRV Sril.WEI.T. F.llWMdiS. 
 
> 
 
 ^omc iAcimmsffncrg anb a Jfeto 
 €aviv Urtters of ^ibnejP Hanier 
 
 "All. tlid Mill iiiut sou Shellcv plain, 
 Ami cliil In- -inp anil ^peak I.i yon. 
 
 \iir| illil yiiii spi-ak to liini ajiain? 
 Il.nv -iranyi- it -efm^ ami iii-\\ I" 
 
 1<iu:kki I'.uiiUMvc: \l,-iii"r,il'ili,i 
 
 Thai the South can justly claim Edgar Poe tor her 
 own is (Joubtlul enough. Even if the concrete facts 
 largely favored such a claim, it is still true, as Professor 
 Dowden declares, that " he would have differed little 
 from his actual self had he been born on an Irish hill- 
 side or in a German forest." Both Poe's point of view 
 and his output are so e.\ce[)tional as to be virtually 
 unique. He is not in verity a Southern poet, nor is he 
 even unmistakably .American. To paraphrase a brief 
 but meaningful line from The Bells, its vagrant author 
 IS ' 'all alone." F^robably of Irish descent on his father's 
 side; born in [Boston of an English mother; brought up 
 by a Scotch foster-tathcrinVirginia; educated in England 
 during five critical years of boyhood, and later al the 
 L niversity of Virginia and West Point; a wanderer from 
 city to city, though most attracted by cosmopolitan New 
 I ork: Poe seems to have had ample o[)portunity to be- 
 come anything but a respectably representative Ameri- 
 can writer. 
 
 If Poe were sui generis, it is true in a sense that every 
 poet and artist is so, yet, paradoxically enough, the flavor 
 ot soil and climate is peculiarly apparent in the work of 
 the most catholic and universal of men. To be an Ameri- 
 ican one must have State affiliation. To be a citizen of 
 the world one must first be able and willing to live pretty 
 
 (7) 
 
^OMir lAfmiiiisfrnrfs nnb 
 
 int<n>tly amid a specific loial tnviKiiinurii. lor tiic 
 world IS made u() ol its own miniatuM-^. .And in SiJikv 
 Lanier's lile and work there aie ample evidences ol his 
 habitat. Lnlike 1 inirod ami I layiie, ho\v<'\er, ins iel- 
 low-singers. he was first of all a poet and afterward a 
 Southerner, though the " afterward" follows hard upon. 
 Such greatness as h<' achieved — and it is fjegiiining to 
 be seen that that i;reatn;ss is real was due to several 
 contril)Utory cuises, which may vet all he traced to the 
 single source of his personal temper as man and poet. 
 He possessed, alone among Southern poets, the univer- 
 sal outlook, tending to the timeless anil placeless; he 
 was a student ol lile and ol literature; he was unasham- 
 edly sincere; he was a mastei ol wordcralt, in jioint of 
 music, meanings, individualities and kinshijis. He had 
 more than the melodic power of Poe, tnucli ol the ideal- 
 ity ol Lmerson, the human sympathy ol \\ liilinan. the 
 book-love of Lowell and Longlellow. 1 hat his work 
 is not, as a rule, finished; and that he was, as both poet 
 and critic, too olten oppressed and overborne by his own 
 theories of art. must be recogni/ru frankly, but it must 
 be remiMnbeied as well that other and grs-atei [)oets have 
 theori/ed and experimented, and not always to their ul- 
 timate hurt as artists. VC hen Lanier i ame into his own, 
 he knew his high momi^nt and yielded to it .ill he had 
 and was. It is surelv tinu to stand up and say of this 
 man's Sunrise and / Vie Marshes of Cilijnn that they 
 are unsurpassed in sheer beauty o| lonii and de[)th ol 
 insight among American |)oems. 
 
 For America vsas in him and the South was in him. 
 The Georgia o| his day was ver\' proud and very con- 
 ser\ati\e,andthoughI^anier r( acted at limes against Ixith 
 its "conceit, as he termed il. and its conservatism, yet 
 
 (8) 
 
€arii' Hfttrrsi of ^ibnrp ILnnirr 
 
 hf was a Crorgian in h>art and mimJ and l)odv. I'hc 
 Mat oil in wliirli lir \\a^ Ix.rn. tclnuarv 3d, \HAJ, ind 
 which he called his home until the early seventies, was 
 a (|UJ( t riverside town dreaming in the sunshine ol mul- 
 die Georgia, and much riore interested in the graces and 
 jileasures of recipro ,il hospitality than in < mitne-.cialen- 
 ler|)rists c)t great pith .ind moment. \'er\ jealously did 
 the people observe the social and spiritual traditions of 
 their distant British past, >lowly adapting these to the 
 warmer climate ol Georgia, and taking on a clannishness 
 ol view and habit that, buried bem-ath a livelier outward 
 being, still persists, in particular among the older families 
 of the .Macon o! to-day. Indeed, Macon is one of the 
 mostcharacteristically Soulhi rn of all old Southerntowns. 
 foreign alike to the bustling modernness of .Atlanta and 
 liirmingham.and to the dual allegiancesof Savannah and 
 .Nashville. ^ et e\en here the life of the past has become 
 objectively much modified, so that to walk out of the 
 house or office of an alert young citizen into that of an 
 ante-bellum gentleman is sometim's to feel a sense al- 
 most ol bewilderment. The old South is still to be seen 
 in the generous but wistful eyes of many noble men and 
 women in Macon and kindred towns. It is there and 
 will be there until they die. They are in it, and of it, 
 ar.d it is to them a holy place. And hardly less holy is 
 the devotion of their children to tli same ideal, only 
 that to them it is an ideal less closely linked with per- 
 sonal memones and less likely, in their thought, to suff<'r 
 serious impairment by contact with the things that are 
 new. 
 
 In this .,tately old community on the river Ocmulgee, 
 a town rambling up and down a range of little hills, lib- 
 erally dowered with trees and lawns, and traversed by 
 
 (9) 
 
%>omt lAfininistciucs nnb 
 
 spacious strccls, Sulnrv L.aiiici i;rr\\ up. a ginllf, hon- 
 orable, seiiMlivi- SnUtlliTIl l)OV, Str'l!1ir|y att.K lictl to his 
 
 sister, Ccrtudc. iioss dcul; .itul to h.is hrother, Clitford, 
 wlio slill survives hini. I lis lather. Robert Samiison 
 Lamer, has been tlesi nbeJ to me by several who knew 
 hini as among the most ca[)able ol olfuf lauvi rs in old 
 .Vlaeon. ol line physical presence, a well-connected and 
 culture-d man. and a true gentleman. His mother, Mary 
 Jane Anderson, was the daughter ol a N'lrginia planter, 
 and a peuiliarlv though not narrow 1\ religious woman. 
 I h<' laiiiilv life w as gracious and affectionate, and. among 
 the ihildnn, playful. The girl sang at the piano, or 
 romped m lh<' garden ol llieir High street home. 1 he 
 boys lbhe<l and hunted a- well, .ind lile ran verv pleas- 
 
 antlv. 
 
 Of Sidney's earlv schooling in the Bibb County Acad- 
 emy, several ol his friends still living in Macon speak 
 with clear meniones. Mr. C^harles E. Campbell. Colo- 
 nel C. M. W'll.'V, aid Messrs. C. i^ Rob<>rts i who now 
 occupies th<' old Lamer home i and Mat K. f-reeman 
 were all among his mates. They unite in describing him 
 as a singularly attractive boy, not so much in physical 
 apfiearance as in an indescribable air of gentlemanhood, 
 ri-minding one of I ennvson's c haraiteri/alion of Arthur 
 1 lallam in In Memoriam: 
 
 I Ir villain fiMU-v lUrliiij; li>. 
 |)R-w in till- ivprc^^i.'ii "i ;mi tyc 
 
 WIi, r. i,r.,\ :ni.! \- ■ ••■ ''••'■' ■■ 
 
 In truth, Lanier was a boy ol normal lun and energy, 
 but keyed to an ex()uisite personal dignity and purity, a 
 bu\ whose conduct um iringly reflected his character, 
 and w ho was earnesllv admired and beloved by hisyoung 
 
 ( 10) 
 
€arlt» Urtters of ^tbiifp Unnirr 
 
 4 
 
 comrades. Them he loved as ardently in return, though 
 a certam reticence forbade confidences [)assing beyond 
 the give and take ol boyhood. At tremulous peace with 
 the iiiner self of his young visions, he awaited his time, 
 half-conscious of he knew not what, livmg meanwhile 
 .' jutward life of good cheer and hard work. Mr. 
 Campbell, for his part, who was then and long there- 
 after very close to Lanier, though he did not antici(«te 
 his friend's literary fame, was always aware of him as 
 "a knightly and clean-tongued" boy. 
 
 The affairs of the Academy were administered by 
 George H. Hancock, afterward a professor in Wes- 
 leyan Pemale College, and by P. A. Strobel, as princi- 
 pals, assisted by Fredenck Polhill, William Hill, and 
 one Ryan, an Irish mathematician of original habits and 
 temper. Ail of these men found in Lanier an accurate 
 and persevering pupil, though fond of frolic and the 
 minor sports. The Academy at length Ion its best in- 
 structors, and most of its students were scattered among 
 local teachers and tutors, while Lanier served for a time 
 as clerk in the Macon [)ost-office, and passed some three 
 years or more of desultory study before enteri.ig Ogle- 
 thorpe University, at Midway, Ga. 
 
 At this small Presbyterian college, which became 
 defunct in I 872, Lanier developed rapidly on the intel- 
 lectual and s[)intual sides, later in life testifying to the 
 fine influence exerted upon him by Prof. James Wood- 
 row, of the chair of science. This man was, for his day, 
 an advanced thinker and scholar, and was possessed also 
 of a sunny humanness of temperament that went far to 
 cover heretical lapses — lapses, no doubt, indifferently 
 misunderstood by some of his colleagues and most of the 
 college trustees. Lanier was greatly broadened by con- 
 
 (II ) 
 
!S6»omf lAfmiiusfcntfS »inb 
 
 tail with Or. Woodrow, and became a /eslful reader 
 and exjilorer in several de'pnrlnient> of studv. I lis flute 
 practice, loo. begun in the .Academy days, continued to 
 express the music within hini. " 1 le plaved directly and 
 naturally from the first." says Mr. Campbell, "as one 
 hardly conscious of effort or obstacle." I lis early interest 
 in the flute se(-ms to haye been ai liyely fo'-lered bv his 
 friend Campbell and by C". K. Kmmeji, .uiolher friend 
 who played admirably, and who gaye their initial musi- 
 cal impulse to a number of .Macon yount; men. Mr, 
 Campbell was with Lanier when hebouijht his first "real" 
 flute, a humble but reasonal)ly effectiye inslrumentcosting 
 $1,25. In Macon, indeed, nearly all ol Lanier's closest 
 friends were musical, and many are the memories of 
 boyish concert meetings and moonlight serenades. La- 
 nier soon deyeloped an astonishing mastery oyer the flute, 
 and might haye played the f'led Piper of i lamelin when 
 and where hi- would, lor he could instantly charm any 
 company into silence, tears or smiles. Music and ro- 
 mance were continually entering into him and escaping 
 from him. in his life as on his lips. Seycal of the older 
 ladies of Mac-n recall with affectionate appreciation his 
 gracious manner toward \yomcn, and remember him as 
 a dreamy loyer of girls, who had, as varying symbols of 
 a higher than human romance, "a sweethea:! in eyery 
 port." 
 
 Into the (juiet ha[)piness of these well-ordered days 
 novy broke the growling notes ol war. Lanier, in 
 common with every other young Southern man of 
 courage and honor, heard the first shots with a curious 
 feeling of mingled awe and e.xultation. Early in No- 
 vember. I 860, the people of Macon drew up a solemn 
 statement of the wrongs of the South, and at midday of 
 
 ( \l) 
 
I 
 
 <£iiilp Uf ttfis of %>i\M\tv Uamrr 
 
 Dfc-rnber 1st, "precisely at the hour the ordinance of 
 secession passed in South Carolina," as John C. Butler 
 narrates in his llislmij of Macon and Cenira! Ceors^ia, 
 "one hundred ^uns were fired in Macon amidst the 
 ringing of bells and the shouts ol the people. At night, 
 a procession ol fifteen hundred persons was formed, with 
 l)anners and transparencies, and as they marched, an- 
 other salute of one hundred ^uns was fired, while the 
 bells kept u[) a lively ringing." 
 
 On January j'^th, 1861. Georgia seceded, amid 
 scenes of great cxcitenunt. and instantly there swept 
 over the State the sounds of fiery orations, sighs of the 
 fighting-passion, and calls for volunteers. 
 
 I o these calls l,anier and many other Oglethorpe 
 boys were among the first to respond. Ac was not long 
 deceived in his own mind, it is true, concerning the prob- 
 able outcome of the war — it early became to him the 
 "Lost Cause" yet he fought on with surelovalty until 
 captured and committed to prison at Point Lookout. 
 }• rom the horror and bloodiness of war Lanier's w hole 
 soul constantly revolted, but his duty was seen and done. 
 Military service was w ith him a matter far less of physi- 
 cal enthusiasm than of uncalculating allegiance lo a high 
 idea. An anecdote told me by .Mr. Campbell illustrates 
 tl. . Dugnance felt by Lanier to realizing in his own ca- 
 reer a a soldier the ordinary "privileges" of a survivor 
 on a h 'd of battle. It was after Chancellorsville, when 
 Lanier, well-nigh in rags, was passing the corpse of a 
 Federal private. Suddenly the neatncs,s and newness of 
 the dead n-.an's shirt caught his eye. He hesitated for a 
 moment, but, quickly deciding that he could not take the 
 shirt, moved on. Within a few minutes he had repented 
 his scjueamishness. reminding himself of his sore need of 
 
 03; 
 
i^oinr l^riniiuscrnfrs anb 
 
 a whole ^artncnl, and urjjiny upon hiiiiscK the ^tron(5 
 [irobabilily that the Icdcral would not, undrr the cir- 
 i umstancos, he^jrudgc the transfer. H\ the timr he had 
 returned, however, he (ound to his clui^nn that a less 
 tender-tonsiienced male had dexterou>lv captured the 
 shirt en passant. 
 
 Kroni Dercmher 1st, 1861, to April, \H(,2, Lanier 
 was a member of Mes-, Nunihcr I our oj the Georgia 
 Barracks, canipini; in Norfolk lair grounds, Virginia. 
 I h's mess wa; the model one ol the camp, having ten 
 memhers distributed among eight bunks. One bunk 
 was occupied by Lanier, another by C K. Li.imeJI, a|d 
 a third by W. A. Hopson and C. L. Cam[)l)ell. AlliBf 
 the ten men were on terms of intimacy and goodwill 
 at one time they constituted themselves a "f'lckwirk 
 Club" and took a peculiar pride in maintaining the 
 cleanliness and attractiveness of iheir (quarters. Mr. 
 Campbell recalls hcnv faithful and amiable Lanier was 
 in the performance of the s<>rvices recjuired of him and 
 in his helpfulnt'ss on the social side of the camp life. 
 A good deal of flute ('laying went on, and there were 
 many animated discussions concerning things military, 
 musical and intellectual. Most of Lanier's experiences 
 here, asa member of the Macon Volunteers, were reason- 
 ably pleasant, but when, in I 86^, a change was made 
 to Wilmington, N, C a harder life began. After en- 
 gaging in tfie week's conflict about Richmond, and some 
 minor battles, the comp.inv vvas sent to Petersburg, and 
 Lanier was able to obtain and enjoy a much needed rest. 
 At Petersburg he first saw Lee, regarding him with a 
 knightly reverence, as Sir Guyon or Sir Galahad his 
 Arthur. Early in 1863 he was permitted a fortnight's 
 furlough to be spent in Macon, and, u[)on his return, 
 
 ( 14) 
 
SIDNKY I.ANIKK IN IWK 
 Iv l.<Tmi««icin "f M<-i.sr». HouiihUm, MiHIJn & Vt 
 ■arlr de v,„u |>hol.«ni|.h owiuU liy Mllti.n 11. N 
 
 im|i«ny, Kn.ni a 
 rihrup* 
 
(e»irlP IfttfiB of 4>ibnrp U.iiiirr 
 
 acl.-d VMlh h,s l.n.llir,, Cliff,,,,!, ,,^ ., s.oul in Milli^jinV 
 C..r|.> in \iri^ini... I |,i. pr.,\.,l ,, not t.,., arduous 
 s.TVKc. .-nlivn.',! will, „,,,ny |4,vsi,,,l ami s,,, lal .livrr- 
 sions I lra(l(|uarl,r~ u,-,,. at I ..rl Rovkin. ami it was 
 hrir Ihal l^mirT uroli- the |„||,,u mj^ ,„,,.,|, |,, "(,. | { * 
 ulios.- ui.-nlitv i> rrv.alr,] in tl„ su<ir«linK (Mv>a«.'- 
 Ironi l.'tlrrs wrill.ii al.oul llw .,,rn.- Iinir. bfir ua-. a 
 VouiiK V ir^inia girl wliosr gr.ur and charm l.a.l u.,n 
 Ihr li.arts ot both ihr vounj? hrolh.-rs and ol tli. ir Irini,] 
 and roniradr, Hopson, to whom 1 .anin p.-mill.-d ihr 
 dim and iad.-d ( o|,v Ironi whi. h I iranM nix- Shr ha.l 
 uriltcn 111 a Ictti r: 
 
 " Do vou r.-ni.ml..-r th.- ' Hrou n H„d. ' ,„ ||„. I ),,„„„ 
 oj Lxile, wh<.>.- vonn, a> \\r sal on his tr.r m I'aiac'iM 
 was the last sound h.ard In /Vlani and Ia,- as ih. y lied 
 aion^! the ^UiO-} So. (ncnd, do I send niv irv 
 across tlnsc l)road stretches of nioonli(>ht ." 
 
 In a copy set down a year or two late r in "th- hall, r.d 
 old ledijer that received Mr. Lani.-r's hoards,.! poems, 
 essays, (juotations. and so on" (I use .Mrs. Lanier's 
 words), there are slight variations in the last line of the 
 second Stan/a, and in the lirsl line of the cm Imlini; 
 slan/a. 
 
 I 
 
 Co (P. U). 
 
 Tlioit nxisl rare Uro«n liinj ,mi tlimi' I M,,, i,,.. 
 .Ml lii;uiii-s«i't-( til iiif 
 
 •'..IlUlh Ihy S.llm ,,f )„Jj.\ ,|pj.|, l,,y;,|n 
 
 \iiil Inn- , liiyli niyalu 
 .\ii,l |.,vf's sWift-plra.iiiiK loneliness in ij,,,.. 
 
 'Mir ,mc Star v..n,|er utl.ritl, f,,rtli lier IikIiI. 
 Hit siIht call |,> niKlit, 
 
 Ulio, wavcTiiiK lKtwi.,11 III,- I)arl< aii.l lirinlii 
 Onimmtli with tinii,l fli«lit. " 
 
 l.ik<- ,iiir uIki lusilalelh 'tHixt ttn.iii; aii.l rii.|,l 
 
 (17; 
 
^oinr iArniimsrrnffs -mb 
 
 O. invLT HUb a iiiylit .so dark as 1! 
 
 lint ihou ha~l -tin a '■igh 
 
 "i l..ve, a, a -lar would send a l„:am, I., Hy 
 
 l''.»iiwani trom om Hi- vkv ^ 
 
 •\ii.l liKlii -i liiarl tliafs dark en..„Kl, t„ ,lir 
 
 l\T',n'",'t!^"''-/""' '"■ "•"" ^'lN'T-Hca,„. 
 i-T iiH- iiiri\ir drc.ini 
 
 "^ M,;"hki^^^ ^h'V'""' " ^•"^- '"^"'^ ^"•-^- 
 
 " I'lfiii iiKr l.nt -hall seem 
 Ui,„s,. |.„v,-li«l,l ihrouKl, .nv |),,rk sl.nll .v.r Kl.ani' 
 
 ^^On.hoo,h,.rs„|,-,;,lu. rnnnus, ,■„„.,,,„,,, |„,e 
 
 N. (i...vl, ,.m1 -rts; o,„it. v,,,„|,, 
 
 "'■y/T'-.'l-. till I.„v., i.x<,„i,„e inilh. 
 
 '■ '"■ "f a iiii.ni cli-ar niaiili,„,,|, Urinisl 
 
 riK-so verses v.e.. v Mten bv a vouni. man of n„t 
 quite twenty-two, durmg a romantu: mterlud,. m a lile „ 
 growma anxu-ty anJ hardsh,,,. H.nvev.T tentatue 
 he.r oxecu on. thev show the g-nuinenes. of Lan.er's 
 l-lmg for hie and nalur... Ama.-ur .n expression, they 
 are tar Iron, amateur in instinct. ..nd the indep, nden- 
 stanza,.! cast in an apparentiv un,rlate<l Hanilet-hke 
 s rain. ,s vet a witness ,oth. deeper seriousness of th 
 ! o. . .s outlook an<j the high-Lred quality of his humanity. 
 I lii> ^tan/a, indeed, which serves to cor^dude 'A ' 
 
 li-Cr T^ '''? ''T '''' "' ''"" Bovkin. and pub! 
 I sfied ,n the regular edition of Lanier's poems, was no 
 
 ^l-'f" I'-selv appended to Mr. | lopson's copy of the 
 p. esen, poem by way of a earned o^ er comment or refer- 
 ence that would be understood and responded to by the 
 PoeU nend. In poin, ..I „me .nd circumstance and 
 
 s.m,larUyo(phrasin, it.ouldse-™ that both po.>ms 
 yrc addres... to "G. H, " Lamer characterizes ha 
 already published as "a litUe poem which sang Sf 
 
 (18) 
 
eiirl!.lmfr«of*it,„cpjr.arafr 
 
 som fine Xh " r"' "' '"".^''^'^ ^°^" '^ '^"-- Po^'enty 
 
 Lam, for a ll,.sp„,,| .„rclv «,,. ,.,vf,i-- 
 
 pi^; :.'.--;f* •-'"•■'•'■-'" 1- 
 
 o.h^r/h:v ;t 'nl ^"'^ f^'^'^^"'-^ d° -dge each 
 r, "■ ,.',"•> f"n'n<J me of recruits tryino to march in 
 
 file ; wh.hever one goes .n front, the h.L'Js, .TcTr^^^^^^^ 
 09) 
 
^omr iArniimscfncfS nub 
 
 to step on l„s lu.ls; and one knows not uli,.th.-r to 
 weep for the wounds received th.reby, or to laugh at 
 the awkwardness that caused them. 
 
 ,. ' ' " * * * 
 
 Cinna H. and I have become firm Soul-fri.-nds, She 
 IS a noble creature, and has the b.st-cultivaled nund I've 
 seen .n a long time. l\e m.fated he, mto the b,.auties 
 ot iVlrs. Brownmt. and Robert B -oi^.ther with Carlvle 
 and Novalis; whereat she is m a perfect blaze of en- 
 thusiasm. She desires me to . member her very 
 warmly to you, and to e.xpres. V ou her gratification 
 that your only friend in franklin of the female ,.er- 
 suasion ,s cross-eyed and otherwise personally d. !,< lenf 
 smce so ,she added) you will have less temptation to 
 orget your friends in Surrey. I-.ve young ladies visit 
 the cast e shortiv to remain some t.ne; among them. 
 M.ss Alexander, the intimate of Ginna, reputed a per- 
 i^'ct paragon of all that ,s lovely, etc. We anticipate a 
 good tirne. and wish that you were here, very much, to 
 make it better. " .7 , lu 
 
 in the midsummer of I H64 Lamer was sent agam to 
 Wilmington. N. C where he and his brother Clifford 
 served lor several months as signal officers on the 
 vessels engaged in the dangerous business of runmng 
 
 S ' .^'"m i- ^^ x'"'^ '" '^'^- '^"f'-^""- ^-"en from 
 Snuthville. N. C. August _Mth of this year, presents 
 a p.ctures.jue account of the life -military and socal- 
 a:ep;!S" ^^'™^'"^- «"'>'-t.nef paragraphs 
 "Ten or twelve Blockade-runners came into Port 
 within a day or two alt.r our arrival here, and were 
 mmediately placed ,n strict quarantine, .t being reported 
 that the bellow fever was raging in Bermuda, and 
 
 (20) 
 
<enilj) ttttns of ^ibiif p Uniiifr 
 
 even that iher,. were cases on f.oarcl some of the vessels. 
 1 h>s proeeeding somewhat damped our hopes at first 
 as we d,d not l,ke the prospect of being assigned to dutJ 
 ■n the 1-orts protectmg this harbor, and awaiting the 
 coming of Frost before we could proceed on our voy- 
 
 cause of alarm alter riding out a Quarantine-term of 
 hlleen days, are being released and allowed to discharge 
 cargo and re-load I he 'Lilian ' wen. out last night; 
 and to-morrow n.ght two of our party, Richardson and 
 Langtiorn, go out as passengers on the ' Mary Celeste ' 
 o bring in two new stea.ners now ready at Bern>ud'a. 
 H IS r.-ported that there are a number of new blockaders 
 .n foreign ports awaiting Signal Operators to bring them 
 in. and it is probable that, in the course of two or three 
 
 Pfr, f'Al \''^' "'^^"•■"V "f «"■- l"">y will sail from the 
 rort tor tbat purpose. 
 
 "I had a letter from that blessed Brown-eyed child 
 yesterday which verily believe to be more'beaut, ul 
 ban anything of the sort I ever saw. The letter was 
 forwarded to me by Benson from Petersburg, she sun- 
 pos.ng me st, I there. | transcribe a part of ,t for vour 
 edification: ' I an, g ad .1,,.. ,o. see Mr. Hopson;' b" 
 I do no forget that the moving of the Signal Corps pre- 
 cludes all hope of my soon seeing him again. I do not 
 know how Ae regards ,t, but it is a very unpleasant fact 
 to me, as you know, Nlister Sid. By t'h,- way, did you 
 deliver to him th.- package I sent, tog,.ther with the' his 
 bund e of kind iTiessages ? etc., etc. ' Certainly I did 
 ciidn t 1, fHoppy? "' 
 
 f .?^?'' ?'r"'"f ' ^"""^ ^°''""'"' ' ^3^<' "!'■' fiere several 
 ol the kind friends that I made two y<ars ago in Wil- 
 mington. They are spending the summer here, and 
 
 (21) 
 
^^ojiif Krimniscfiirrs .mb 
 
 pka.sant mIU^c. Insomuch that ,v,-rv day sine,. I have 
 bee. here var.ou.s servants bcnr.ng whue-cov..,. 1 ) ,: 
 of del cac.es or ru,t. or books. u,th not,. „f ,.. n . 
 n.n.s fron, the lad.es. ' nngh. have been seen ' u d '" 
 !>- way toward the S.final Quarters where 5' 
 ''" .vP^ up the 1 roubadour uande.,n, ab. ut t" 
 
 ^;;>>ou i could no. h!ipt.n::t'i:;;sr 
 
 H .ns. Ive been wa.'.ng tc hear Iron. her. that I 
 might send you her com.uents th.reon; but the d.a 
 bol.ca „,a.ls are so slow that I cannot w .t any I ,„., 
 for fear you ,n,ght th.nk me under the waves. ^ ^ ' 
 
 foriSfr tT' ?■';"''. ^'r^""S''''^'''"^»'--' 
 
 thlt the ! 1 ^^T: ^T' '^''"^^ ''"'^ "'0'n■"^ state 
 that the vessel ran safelv through the blockidncW? r 
 
 She . owned by the 'Alb.on Trad.ng G t ^ I'l E 
 
 care a large amount of bonds, bes.des g," .'g h,;: l^' 
 
 . "I do not know what time I shall leave her,> Tl 
 m>n..nent prospect of an attack on S:;te-by'|;: 
 
 (22) 
 
1 
 
 i 
 
 
 €avlv Hfttcrs of ^ibnep ti 
 
 mm 
 
 Yankees wll probably induce the Blockad.ng-hrms ,o 
 keep their vessels .n port on the other s.de of the vv e' 
 a far as possible. V^ere ,t not for this. I should getou 
 ^« r> oon. .n a week or so; since large numbers of new 
 vessels are waiting at Nassau Hal>f,v .n^R j r 
 Pilots and Signal Officer^ ^'"""^^ ^°' 
 
 the"Tllial ' "fi^^'? "'" "°^' °"', ^"'^'^^ Cliff on 
 
 ly.ng at this port; and Leroy Godwin, his cousin Z 
 
 daJor^^P ^Th ^^ '"^ Pl'''^''">' ^"" d°^^" here for a 
 >ou about. Oh Himmel! If you knew! 
 You d come. Don t make yourself uneasy trying to 
 guess It; you couldn t do it m a million years ^ 
 
 I havjn t the remotest idea where you are. and so 
 
 recl.r ■' Idd'" ^"^""- ^^'r '"'^ - -- ' >•- 
 leteive it, addressing 'care of ft Wi!. ,„ ^/I 
 
 Signal 0/r,ce, Wilmington N C 'I am i ' '7' 
 f^fr,--,> 11 1 k ', . ^' ' ani staving in the 
 
 "b irw •:"'' ^""'' y'''"^"- ^^^-g '"vue'dtodo 
 
 Own S C L."^" " ' "'^S"'^""' f^"«^- ' am, Your 
 Only twelve days later the writer, then for the first 
 
 "Luc;"" ^rnd r r "•^' ; "^ t^^^^ - •'-d t 
 
 I o kou, TL ^T ^""^"'^u^' l"'^ ^as earned to Point 
 
 months of which the memory alone must have sea"d 
 
 (23) 
 
I 
 
 
 /. 
 
 ^, ^. 
 
 Rl 
 
 lX_ 
 
 ttL^ P^ : ,. 
 
 '/f_ 
 
 7 
 
 
 
 > 
 
 /' 
 
 
 X.-^^ ''-^/..-e ^. 
 
 ''c 
 
 /" 
 
 ^ • 
 
 > 
 
 yu^.^^/., 
 
 
 
 ./ 
 
 ;- 
 
 ./^Z^^^j/ ??1 ., 
 
 'i'Ui^.^^_ <L.^a^.^ cy/^f^'-i. , /?''-6t,,.._...^/xr. /'^ <"- 
 
 -a^-^- 
 
 ///,.,. 
 
 > 
 
 .y... 
 
 
 We^ 
 
 ^'"yY^/^ •" 
 
 -.. /:.. 
 
 -^.^- 
 
 \._ 
 
 KAlSI.MII.l: |.A,,K ,,|- l.ETTKIC yUOTED ON I'ACK ZS 
 
<e*ir(p ILettcvs of ^,b„f „ i. 
 
 mirr 
 
 tp« of foul ci.s. e^:i^': :tri " '•" ^^^-^ ^^ "- 
 
 "f 'Almost ,„,,,,|,b|,. pa "1 , j'^:,:'"'''- '^■\^ -'-«de 
 
 th's time da.,.s tlu. f,,l I «; "'n'^^^ -^"ul, and from 
 f;'''^'--law;:;.:;''h^t5''"- Anderson.!,. 
 '>' the disease he w.« ik , '""^"' "" 'f-'"' 
 
 -^.;fr.-:;4i;:tt;-^:-;>'^''^'-'-nd„.o. 
 
 fn.nds, .n uho" '7 "'' ^'"^°" ^"'' ^^"'' f^'-^ old 
 boen n.ad,. 1,^1 "T" """"u>"''^ ''^^ ^'-«dy 
 found Ins lather K, :;,'"'■" '" '^ "«'-- town he 
 
 togHherw,,hh,:; ::l;,t';;'5^t^-C';'y• 
 -Kl Mr. Day. ^vhohadl,.:d^■^'^,„S;"'-:/^"'- 
 ca(l<,n, were nerm.lle.l f > , ? ''"""" 'h'" ^a- 
 
 f f"urash:^2^d:^X''T'^''''"^^''^^^^• 
 <h<•ir sons „|„.n v,s,,,' h ^ '''"'"' '""'• '-'"d fi^^re 
 
 ('''■a^ure to iVI.ssD^v """■''•'I ^yarranl to g,v,. 
 
 n-a.theop!:n:£;.i;r;n';'7t'r'''" 
 
 --heLanK.rhon:onlh,i;'s,;;t'tte'^¥J^ 
 
 marriage to<,k pla<e D<- 
 
 '■niber 19th. I«67. m Chnst 
 
 Church, Macon. Rev H F'r «""'■'" 
 
 ('ampb,.|| procured the ll 7^''^ " ''nat.nij. Mr. 
 
 He tells mMha, L ntr n^^^^ 
 
 '"^ "Hddle nan e ( ' r T t'VT^ «' ''^'■'^ '™e 
 
 «nenh,nMnr;;o' Sa::L a'""'''r^'- 
 
 i-'avid L. Llopton, a kinsman 
 (25) 
 
:3&omf lAfinmiscfiirrs anb 
 
 and a dl^tlnglll^ll.■d mcnilxr ol (lu- Liiil.d Stales Con- 
 gr<'ss Irom MaLinia. I'crhaps LanicrV |,ijt|,<,M. m 
 omittiiif^ It luiw was not a (ully dclincd one, though pos- 
 sibly he l.'lt the euphonious virtue of "Sidney Lamer," 
 simply, as ha[)pier lor him and (or his work. For by this 
 time he had a sure sense of his literarv and inusual 
 powers, and an inward assurance of days ot lultilnient, 
 however remote. The cei-.-..>ny itself was iinmarred. 
 but at the ensuing reception, held in the home of Mrs. 
 James Monroe Ogden. a daui^ht.r ol the Mrs. Lamar 
 iiienlion.'d at)ove. the t-own ol another daughter, one of 
 the hridi sinaids, caught tire Irorn an ojieii grate, the 
 li.ime fjemg almost instantly extinguished by watchful 
 friends. The newly made .Mrs. Lanier, who had 
 already withdrawn, ovetcome with the exhaustion in- 
 < ident to an attack of mala.ial fever and to the excite- 
 ment of th<> day, was fortunately spared the sight of this 
 accident. Even u hen it was made known t(3 her, she 
 writes me, she was "still too v.eak to feel alarm, or even 
 to reali/e the cruelly of having that bright evening made 
 a blank for me." 
 
 Of tlie happiness of Lanier's after-life, despite the 
 shadows of sickness and poverty, any adeijuate state- 
 ment must speak positively. It was a life of energy; of 
 growing power and performance; of ripening friend- 
 ship's \Mth such men and wom(>n as Bavard Taylor. 
 Gibson Peacock, [^aul Hamilton Havne, and Charlotte 
 Cushman; and of that tender love for his bride she 
 was alwavs his bride— that is breathed m the husband's 
 simple tribut.-v.-rse. My Sprh",. Mr. Campbell tells 
 of the naiv(>, incredulous joy with whicli Lanier once 
 showed lum his newly-arrived son, expatiating in glow- 
 ing style upon the delicate b-autics ol his form and 
 
 •> 
 
 •t 
 
 ^26; 
 
tarlv UftttiS of *ibnfP Uamcr 
 
 •I 
 
 features. And Lowell once said that the ii.ia^e of the 
 poet's shining presence was among the kindest and 
 Inendliest in his nicniorv. The success of his poem, 
 Lorn, lirst publish, d in I.if.)piiu(>lt's and of his Cantata 
 for the Centennial F.xposition at l^hiladel|ihia, did niu( h 
 to redeem Ins spirit from the clogs and fardels of its 
 hodily frame, and his late too late connection with 
 Johns 1 fopkins gave him op()orlunity to fashion his 
 critical ideas into lecture form. I lis apfieal. however, 
 it must always he remenihered, is characteristically that 
 of a poet, whether couched in critical form, or fictional, 
 or melodic. A great heart, a noble mind, an ex(jiiisilely 
 sensitive lover of humanity and ait and Gnd ; he liv< d 
 a life of growing strength in growing weakness, as the 
 last of his poems must testily. It is the wnter's hope 
 that these bnef reminiscences and gathered extracts may 
 have served to express in some measure the spirit and 
 direction of that life's seed-time in the self-containi d 
 old Macon of "before the war" and the missionary 
 Macon of the Confederacy. 
 
 (27) 
 
 1 . 
 
 I 
 
>Cii 
 
 '3" 
 
 T T P()\ a ilou .ipollo met the 
 ^^ Muses and the Ciiaces in swcef 
 sport, mixed with earnest. 
 Memory, the ^rave and noble mother 
 of the Muses, was present lil^ewise. 
 hach of the fourteen spohe a line of 
 ierse. Apollo he^an. then each of 
 the nine Muses sans; her part ; then the 
 three Graces warbled, each in turn; and 
 finally a low, sweet strain from Mem- 
 ory made a harmonious close. This 
 was the first sonnet: and, mindful of 
 its origin, all true poets take care to bid 
 Apollo stride the key-note for them when 
 they compose one, and to let Memory 
 compress the pith and marrow of the 
 sormet into its last lines. 
 
 •} 
 
 • » 
 
 -SiPNKV LaMKK. 
 
 f^a4:3:J]:J4xADc^i^:tT4i^ 
 
iCiirlp Ifttfrs of *>ibnfp Hamrr 
 
 features. Ami L.well onie s.ud thai the ima«e of th.' 
 port's shminj! |>resente was anions the kindest and 
 liundliest in his memory. The suicess of his [.o.m, 
 Com, first pulihsh.d in l.ippimoll\ and of his ( .intal.i 
 hir the (-Vntennial Kxpusilion at I'hilad. Ipliia, did miu li 
 to redeem his ,s|,irit Ironi the tlogs and fardels ol its 
 ho(hlv frame, and his lat<' too late connection with 
 Johns i lopkins (jave him opportunity to fashion his 
 critical ideas into lecture form. \ lis appeal, however. 
 It must always he rememhered. is charac l.risluallv that 
 of a |)oet, whether couchic) in cntical form, or hctional, 
 or melodic. A great heart, a nohle mind, an ex(juisilely 
 sensitive lover of humanity and ait and God ; h<- lived 
 a life of growing strength in growing weakness, as ihe 
 last of his poems must testify. It is the writer's hope 
 that these hrief reminiscences and gathered extracts may 
 have served to express in some measure the s()irit and 
 direction of that lih-'s sei-d-time in the self-contained 
 old Macon of "before the war" and the missionary 
 Macon of the Confederacy. 
 
 (27) 
 
^fjr )%>onnft 
 
 J J l'()\ a Jaij Apollo nut tin- 
 y^ Muse^ and the iiun es in utvcl 
 ■iport, mixed with earnest. 
 Memory, the grave and nnhle mother 
 of the Muses, was present lik'euisc. 
 Each of the fourteen .tpol^e a line of 
 lerse. Apollo hci-an, then eaJi of 
 the nine Muses sani^' her pait ■ then the 
 three Graces warbled, eaih in turn: and 
 fnallii a low, sweet strain fiom Mem- 
 ory made a harmonious close. I his 
 was the first sonnet; and, mindful of 
 its origin, all true poets take care to hid 
 Apollo strike the key note for them when 
 they compo.se one, and to let Memory 
 compr''ss the pith and marrow of >he 
 sonnet into it.s last lines. 
 
 Sllistr I.^N|^K- 
 
 ^4X4:43:4X^a:^x?XiaS3^^ 
 
 1 
 
• • 
 
 G6'J79') 
 
 PS 
 
 2213 
 
 C59 
 
 Clarke, g. h. 
 
 Some reminiscences 
 and early letters. .1 
 
 CAMERON UBRABi