Samuel 
 
 MEMOIR AND LETTERS. Edited by Rev. 
 
 JOSEPH MAY. With a Portrait, Crown Svo, 
 
 gilt top, $1.50. 
 
 ESSAYS AND SERMONS. Edited by Pev. 
 
 JOSEPH MAY. With a Portrait. Crown Svo, 
 
 gilt top, $1.50. 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK. 
 
SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 MEMOIR AND LETTERS 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 JOSEPH MAY 
 
 MINISTER OF THE FIKST UNITARIAN CHURCH OF PHILADELPHIA 
 
 " Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth " 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 BtoermUe Press, Cambridge 
 
 i8 94 
 
Copyright, 1894, 
 BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 All riyhts reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass. , U. S. A . 
 Electrotyped aud Printed by H. O. Houghton and Company. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW was once 
 greatly pleased when a friend referred to him as 
 "the brother of a poet." He fully appreciated 
 the implication. 
 
 The poet intended was Samuel Longfellow, 
 whose memory it is sought to perpetuate by the 
 publication of this volume. 
 
 Not deficient, as his beautiful hymns attest, 
 in that power of poetical expression with which 
 genius so richly endowed the elder Longfellow, 
 Samuel shared fully with his gifted brother the 
 poetic instinct and the poet s temperament. 
 
 In dignity and simplicity of character ; in 
 sweetness and serenity of disposition ; in the 
 single love of truth, and in the pure spirituality 
 of his life and all its motives, no man ever sur 
 passed him. The desire to present an example 
 of such traits is the justification of this sketch, 
 and of the extracts from Mr. Longfellow s corre- 
 
 M196942 
 
iv PREFACE 
 
 spondence, which are the most significant part 
 of it. 
 
 " Letters," he writes, " do not read as well in 
 print as in manuscript." It may be that his own 
 will here have lost something of their charm, 
 and will not manifest all, or even much, of what 
 he was, except to those who knew him in life. 
 Yet it is hoped that enough of his spirit may 
 linger in them to reveal his character in fair 
 degree to such as first meet him in these pages. 
 
 A just account of Samuel Longfellow must 
 have adequately disclosed his interior life, in 
 which lay the reality of the man and of his 
 career. The only person who could have written 
 such an account of him was his friend, Samuel 
 Johnson, but for him Mr. Longfellow had per 
 formed this loving service. It has been left for 
 an inferior hand, and one not qualified by inti 
 mate acquaintance, to gather up these scanty 
 relics of a saintly history, and cast them into 
 such shape as it might. J. M. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, April 15, 1894. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH ..... i 
 
 II. COLLEGE .10 
 
 III. POST-GRADUATE DAYS 14 
 
 IV. THE DIVINITY SCHOOL : FAYAL .... 23 
 V. THE CANDIDATING PERIOD: WEST CAMBRIDGE . 71 
 
 VI. FALL RIVER .... .98 
 
 VII. FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE ... 154 
 
 VIII. CANDIDATING AGAIN 156 
 
 IX. THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE . . . -159 
 
 X. AFTER BROOKLYN . 213 
 
 XI. OTHER JOURNEYS ABROAD , 230 
 
 XII. EIGHTEEN YEARS IN CAMBRIDGE . . . .242 
 
 XIII. A FEW LETTERS TO A YOUNG FRIEND . . 251 
 
 XIV. THE GERMANTOWN PASTORATE . . . 269 
 XV. CLOSING YEARS IN CAMBRIDGE . . . 289 
 
 XVI. THE BIOGRAPHY 294 
 
 XVII. LAST DAYS . 34 
 
SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH 
 
 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW was born on the eigh 
 teenth day of June, 1819, in the beautiful city of 
 Portland, Maine. That city has always had a 
 peculiar charm for the hearts of its people, and 
 in beginning his memoir of his brother, Mr. 
 Longfellow dwells with affectionate admiration 
 on its broad streets, arched with tall trees ; its 
 flanking hills ; its spacious, island-dotted harbor, 
 where the mightiest ships may ride ; and the 
 varied landscape westward, stretching over val 
 leys and hills and forests, till it terminates in the 
 shadowy vision of Mount Washington. 
 
 Hither all his life he loved to return ; here, 
 when the end was nigh, he found himself ; and 
 here, where it began, his earthly career ter 
 minated, a career than which none was ever 
 gentler, kinder, truer to conviction, or more firm 
 in rectitude. 
 
2 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 His birthplace was a house, now venerable 
 with over a century of age, and standing among 
 great elms in the midst of the bustle of the city. 
 Seventy years ago it was on the outskirts of the 
 town, almost a rural abode. It was noted as 
 being the first brick dwelling built in Portland. 
 Mr. Longfellow s maternal grandfather, General 
 Peleg Wadsworth, had erected it ; and his father, 
 Stephen Longfellow, had added to it a third story 
 as his family grew. 
 
 There were eight children in the household, 
 four sons, four daughters ; and Samuel was the 
 youngest. Of their family life he gives, in the 
 memoir of his brother, a charming picture, which 
 no one else may venture to reproduce. It was 
 refined, orderly, and religious ; but easy and 
 cheerful. Parents were respected, but loved still 
 more, and not feared. Brothers and sisters lived 
 together in a perfect mutual affection which the 
 passage of many years could not weaken. The 
 father, a classmate at Harvard College of Judge 
 Story and Dr. Channing, and the intimate friend 
 of the latter, stood high in the community as a 
 citizen and member of the bar. In 1814 he rep 
 resented his district in the Legislature of Mas 
 sachusetts, and eight years later, Maine having 
 become a State, he sat for a term in the lower 
 House of the National Congress. Politically he 
 
CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH 3 
 
 was a Federalist ; in religion, he had followed the 
 liberalizing tendencies of the time, which, from a 
 moderate Calvinism, were shaping the older Uni- 
 tarianism. If the tradition repeated by his son 
 is correct, that it was at his instance that the 
 covenant of the First Parish of Portland was 
 modified in the direction of progressive thought, 
 we may have a hint of the source of the son s 
 ever-forward look, and his strictness of fidelity to 
 personal convictions, however finely distinguished. 
 For his mother, Samuel Longfellow through 
 out his life cherished a peculiar, tender devotion. 
 She was a lineal descendant of John Alden and 
 Priscilla Mullens. Of slight figure and expres 
 sive countenance, as he describes her, she re 
 tained through many later years of invalidism 
 the traces of early beauty. From her he may 
 well have inherited his exceeding sensitiveness ; 
 his love of beauty in nature and in all the forms 
 of art ; his serene and cheerful disposition ; his 
 fortitude in suffering ; and especially his clear, 
 intuitive, spiritual faith and childlike piety. " She 
 was," he says, " a kind friend and neighbor ; a 
 helper of the poor ; a devoted mother to her 
 children, whose confidant she was ; the sharer 
 of their little secrets and their joys ; the ready 
 comforter of their troubles ; the patient correc 
 tor of their faults." 
 
4 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 Thus, in an atmosphere of affection and com 
 fort, of culture and religion, the boy s life began. 
 There are signs that he was not only the young 
 est, but also the darling of the family. His traits 
 may well have fitted him to be such. Of some 
 what delicate organization, yet healthy and hearty, 
 fond of fun, and peculiarly susceptible to the ludi 
 crous, he was, as an early friend describes him, 
 intelligent without precocity ; by no means want 
 ing in masculine qualities ; and not unsocial, 
 though fond of his own companionship, and rather 
 the intimate friend of a select few than the hail- 
 fellow of the many. 
 
 In one of his youthful poems he describes him 
 self as " a dreamy child." He was quiet, but 
 happy ; full of fancies of his own ; early coming 
 to love reading, writing, and sketching ; prefer 
 ring these, and in summer botanizing and the 
 cultivation of his garden, and long rambles in 
 the woods and fields, to the more usual sports of 
 boys. Besides their own ample home, with its 
 books, music, and evening games, the family was 
 blest with a grandfather s home at Gorham, a few 
 miles away, and, in earlier days, another, some 
 what farther, where the children always had a 
 welcome from their venerable relatives, and could 
 enjoy a taste of country life and the habits of the 
 farm. In the youthful poem we have referred 
 
CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH 5 
 
 to, Samuel calls up the happy hours spent in 
 these scenes, and it may be that he had them in 
 mind when, late in life, he said : " I always love 
 to look upon a picture of a pine-tree ; it reminds 
 me of my boyhood." 
 
 School life opened under the guiding care of 
 two female teachers, and at the proper age, pass 
 ing from their charge, he was entered at the 
 well-known "Portland Academy" to prepare for 
 college life. Master Bezaleel Cushman was now 
 reigning, and Samuel seems to have been on 
 terms of friendship with his preceptor, to judge 
 from one kindly epistle of the latter to his pupil, 
 which still exists in the accurate and florid manu 
 script of the old-time pedagogue. 
 
 The curriculum was the usual classical course 
 of the day, with French, which was apparently 
 well taught. At fourteen, a boyish journal shows 
 Samuel reviewing the second book of the Geor- 
 gics, and beginning the fourth of the ^Eneid ; 
 reading Graeca Minora ; and writing as well as 
 reading French, which he likes, and with which 
 he freely ornaments his diary. He appears to 
 have been diligent, but not to the exclusion of 
 occasional lapses. One Thursday, " got to school 
 late, and missed my French lesson ; no matter 
 (that is, not muck)" - conscience speaking in 
 the parenthesis. Perhaps this tardiness was due 
 
6 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 to his brother Henry s being "at home, for a 
 day, from college." But quite as likely because 
 of another visitor, of the kind that always charmed 
 him, a baby boy : " he is a little dear, and some 
 thing prettier than he used to was/ formerly." 
 Next day, alas, another deficiency, perhaps from 
 the same causes : " had not time to get my les 
 son in Virgil." On Saturday he rejoices, too, in 
 the accidental exemption from a duty which may 
 well have been distasteful to him. " We did not 
 declaim, to my great joy, for I had no piece but 
 Pizarro, and that is so old." 
 
 Religious culture was conducted according to 
 the orderly customs of the time. The two ser 
 vices of Sunday were a matter of course. But 
 there is a trace of positive interest in them, in 
 Samuel s record of the texts and intelligent com 
 ments on the sermons. One or two may have 
 made a lasting impression. The minister of the 
 First Parish was Rev. Dr. Nichols, revered and 
 beloved by his people through many years, and 
 some of whose writings were as household words 
 among the Unitarians of the period generally. 
 One afternoon he " preached from Luke, Wist 
 ye not that I must be about my Father s busi 
 ness ? The sermon was upon what he termed 
 the moral energy of Christ, which he said ap 
 peared to him a more striking feature in his 
 
CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH J 
 
 character than his gentleness and benevolence." 
 On January 27, " Mr. Whitman, from Saco, 
 preached, and, as usual, gave us a very good ser 
 mon. Text, I can do all things, through Christ 
 who strengtheneth me. It was incumbent on 
 Christians, he said, to bear the misfortunes and 
 trials of life in a peculiar and Christlike manner ; 
 and to do this, they needed a strength greater 
 than their own ; this strength was to be derived 
 from their religion and from observing and imi 
 tating the example of Christ. ... In the after 
 noon we had another good sermon, upon Chris 
 tian moderation, from Philippians iv." . . . On 
 February 10, in the evening, "went to St. Paul s 
 to hear the new minister. I have heard him 
 once before, on Christmas Day. Do not like him 
 much. He has a very careless manner of read 
 ing the prayers and exercises, sometimes fast 
 and sometimes slow." 
 
 Sunday-school had now been established, but 
 it made, perhaps, little impression on the boy s 
 mind, and received no record, except on a single 
 occasion. 
 
 One Saturday : " It was the turn of our class 
 to go to Dr. Nichols s this afternoon, and Edward 
 Weed called for me. Dr. N. told us that his 
 purpose in having the classes at his house was 
 not so much to hear their lessons, though that 
 
8 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 was one reason ; but that he might become ac 
 quainted with the children. He thought a great 
 deal of early impressions, he said. After he had 
 heard us recite he showed us a microscope and 
 gave us a shock with an electrical machine." 
 
 Samuel Longfellow, as a man, in his own pas 
 torates, knew well how to copy and to improve 
 on this genial and natural method of reaching 
 young minds and hearts. 
 
 Besides school and church and Sunday-school, 
 the boy was seasonably introduced to good liter 
 ature. The world was still in the fresh delight 
 of Scott s poems and novels, and Edgeworth lay 
 on every well - ordered table, especially where 
 there were children. Samuel began to find his 
 way among these and other standard authors, and 
 confided his artless criticisms to his diary. He 
 much preferred "The Betrothed" to "The 
 Talisman." Of " Castle Rackrent," he decided : 
 " I do not like it much, though perhaps it is a 
 good delineation of Irish character." " Charlotte 
 Temple " he thought only " so-so-ish." 
 
 He sought also other opportunities of intel 
 lectual culture ; attending, by himself or with 
 a school-friend, courses of lectures on natural 
 science, on which he variously comments as "in 
 teresting" or "tedious." Occasionally, on a Sat 
 urday, he would drop into court to hear some 
 
CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH 9 
 
 noted pleader. The artifices of the rhetoricians 
 did not escape his observation. Of one, "he is 
 a good speaker, but rather agonizing some 
 times; for instance, did you not mark, gentle 
 men, the downcast eye and quivering lip, etc. : 
 With a crony, he penetrated an artist s studio. 
 The painting "which most struck my fancy was 
 a view of Sebago." Two portraits, by another 
 artist, were " very pretty, but extra-like the ori 
 ginals." One evening, with the same companion, 
 he " attended a concert by the band. It was 
 very fine, I believe, but not at all to my taste. 
 The music is quite too loud and noisy for me." 
 In these sincerities and refinements the boy was 
 father of the man. 
 
 Amid such simple, happy experiences and sur 
 roundings, the period of boyhood was passing 
 away. An occasional journey to the White Hills ; 
 picnics on the islands of the harbor ; rambles in 
 Deering s Woods ; haying and egg-gathering at a 
 grandfather s farm, made the summers pleasant 
 in fact and as lifelong memories. Winter tasks 
 and the instructions of Master Cushman were 
 preparing the youth for college and life. 
 
II 
 
 COLLEGE 
 
 MAKING his way alone, by steamer, to Boston, 
 Samuel Longfellow entered Harvard College as 
 a Freshman in the summer of 1835. He was six 
 teen years old, and brought to college the repu 
 tation of a fine scholar ; a love for good literature 
 and for the beautiful in all its forms ; an inquir 
 ing mind ; a sensitive conscience ; a strong will 
 for the right ; and a heart which was to open, ere 
 long, with singular responsiveness, to religious im 
 pressions and the suggestions of spiritual things. 
 
 There remains little record of the incidents of 
 his college life. " I can only recollect," writes 
 his chum of the first year, Rev. Dr. Nichols, son 
 of his pastor and an old school-fellow, " that my 
 regard and affection for him were daily increased 
 by this closest contact which one young man has 
 with another." While he inclined, as in boyhood, 
 to intimate relations with a few friends rather 
 than to general acquaintanceship, he was well- 
 known, never recluse or unsocial, and took a hearty 
 interest in all college affairs. He was an active 
 
COLLEGE 1 1 
 
 member of the leading societies, including the 
 Institute, the A. A. $., the Hasty Pudding Club, 
 of which he was secretary, and the <. B. K., and 
 his gift as a versifier was often employed to 
 provide the songs called for at their meetings 
 and on the various occasions of college festivity, 
 or a poem at some anniversary celebration. 
 
 A few stray letters reflect amusingly the events 
 and issues of these happy days : - 
 
 " A. A. $. flourishes like any green baize tree, 
 as Sam says. The essays are regular, and the 
 secretary scolds the brother-scribes in the warm 
 est spirit allowed by the constitution. Another 
 effort is to be made to secure recognition by the 
 Faculty. The Geneva Chapter, for a similar end, 
 were obliged to elect in one of the Faculty, and 
 chose the President, who was to be initiated 
 with great pomp. Imagine him swearing eter 
 nal friendship with Sophomores, and wearing a 
 breastpin ! " 
 
 " Do you ever meet any traveling brethren of 
 the Fraternity ? I confess, for my part, I rather 
 favor the plan of the Brunonians for dissolving the 
 whole concern, as opposed to the spirit of the 
 age. The idea of invisible bonds, and secret 
 leagues, and swearing eternal friendship to hun 
 dreds of people one has never seen, is better 
 suited to chivalric times than to these days of 
 
12 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 ours when everybody chooses to go on his own 
 hook. " 
 
 Longfellow s habits of study, in college, though 
 not highly methodical, were diligent and atten 
 tive, and gave him both good standing in his 
 class and the repute of ability and promise. His 
 bent was especially for the classics, for English 
 literature, and for history. " He was," says a 
 classmate, " easily our best writer." " What he 
 did not know about belles-lettres," writes another, 
 " seemed to us not worth knowing." He con 
 tinued the French of his school-days and added 
 German, of which he became very fond, making 
 sufficient progress in it to enable him, when a 
 resident-graduate, to supply the place of the Ger 
 man instructor during an illness. It may be that 
 his familiar acquaintance with Italian dates from 
 college days. Natural science also interested 
 him. Botany he had always loved, and he was 
 now attracted to astronomy, for the study of 
 which, with seven of his friends, he formed a 
 club, called "The Octagon." The element of 
 pleasure was not left out of this youthful or 
 ganization, but they essayed something of seri 
 ous work; going to the observatory to study 
 the phenomena of the heavens, or watching the 
 Northern Lights and meteors from their windows 
 or convenient roofs. Papers were prepared and 
 
COLLEGE 13 
 
 read at their meetings, and the memory of these 
 hours pleasantly survived, as such recollections 
 will, through all the later days of the little group. 
 Writing from Portland, during a vacation, to his 
 classmate and lifelong friend, Edward Everett 
 Hale, he is anxious to know whether a remark 
 able aurora, of which he had slept unconscious 
 on the steamer, had been observed by The Octa 
 gon ; and discusses gravely, with a mind open to 
 conviction, the existence of that perennial curi 
 osity, the sea-serpent. The supposition that such 
 a reptile might have survived from primeval 
 times he thinks reasonable. That on their in 
 numerable trips back and forth the officers of 
 the coastwise steamers should never have seen 
 one is a negative argument of weight. 
 
 Thus passed, as is evident from his subsequent 
 letters and his enduring love for his college, 
 four happy and useful years. The annals of 
 youth are meagre, but it is in such simple ex 
 periences that character is formed and a treas 
 ure of happy memories accumulated. That for 
 Longfellow it was a formative period, of earnest 
 thought and feeling and real growth, his later 
 correspondence plainly intimates. But the ma 
 turing of his mind was to be the work of a period 
 still a few years in advance. 
 
Ill 
 
 POST-GRADUATE DAYS 
 
 AFTER graduation, Longfellow made, in the 
 autumn of 1839, a fi rst essay in real life as 
 teacher of a home school, conducted on the 
 estate of a Southern gentleman, near Baltimore. 
 About November ist, he wrote, in Boston, a 
 hasty note, en passant, to his friend Hale. 
 " I m off, as the inhabitant of the mysterious 
 mustard-pot said, on my way to Elk Ridge, 
 Maryland, to take charge of a dozen or so boys, 
 and live in the family of Mr. Daniel Murray." 
 Here he remained a year, in a kindly, refined, 
 and sensible circle, whose traits, habits, and 
 modes of thought, contrasted as they were with 
 those of the Northern people, interested him, 
 and among whom he became much at home. 
 The characters of these friends commanded his 
 respect, and their kind ways won his attachment. 
 It is strange that no reference to slavery occurs 
 in his letters which remain, yet it would hardly 
 seem possible that he was not in contact with it. 
 Perhaps, however, his deep abhorrence and pro- 
 
POST-GRADUATE DAYS 15 
 
 found opposition to the institution in later days 
 were begotten in him at this period, by a close 
 observation of its evils and shames. 
 
 At the end of the year he decided to return 
 home, notwithstanding pressing entreaties to 
 remain. The school had grown much beyond 
 its original numbers, and the task of discipline 
 had become unpleasing to him. He was eager 
 to return to Cambridge and to find his means of 
 support in private tutoring. Yet he had experi 
 enced a disenchantment which usually awaits 
 the returning alumnus. On June 5, 1840, he 
 wrote to Hale from Philadelphia, on his way 
 South: "Cambridge shall I say it ? did not, 
 after all, appear to me quite the paradise I had 
 fancied. I did not feel quite so glad to get back 
 as I had thought I should do. Ever since I left, I 
 had looked forward with some hope of returning 
 there for a year or perhaps more. It was the 
 height of my ambition, when in college, to re 
 main as a resident-graduate, and avail myself of 
 the opportunities there so fully offered, of pur 
 suing further and more thoroughly such gen 
 eral studies as my inclination prompted. The 
 reason why the place appeared less charming 
 is no doubt obvious enough. Class feelings and 
 college feelings form so essential a part of the 
 college student s life, and are so woven into 
 
1 6 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 all its pleasures, that a return under different 
 circumstances could not but give things quite a 
 changed aspect. Nevertheless, as I was asked 
 to come back and take three or four little shavers 
 to teach, I think, if I can arrange matters to suit 
 at C, I shall say good-by to dear Mr. Murray 
 next fall." 
 
 A month later he was still considering the 
 matter, with the earnestness which a young man 
 puts into these, to him, important life questions. 
 " Whether it be worth a person s while to spend 
 a year at Cambridge as resident-graduate I am 
 not quite sure. When in college I used to think 
 it would be a kind of Himmels-erde, as you used 
 to say. But I am afraid that a lazy man, like 
 me, who should nominally devote his whole time 
 to private, general study, wouldn t accomplish 
 much ; some external force is needed, such as is 
 supplied, in studying a profession, by the definite 
 aim in view. At any rate, I should prefer, in my 
 own case, to have some regular engagement a 
 part of the day." 
 
 That his thoughts were turning towards the 
 profession which was the inevitable one for him 
 is perhaps suggested in what follows : " I was 
 amused," he says to Hale, " at your unchanged 
 hostility to the Divinity School, as manifested in 
 the appellation of monastic institution/ though, 
 
POST-GRADUATE DAYS \J 
 
 to be sure, that is an improvement on Ortho 
 pedic Infirmary. Nevertheless, I was inclined 
 to agree with you in your views of the importance 
 of scientific theology. Think of the idea of dog 
 matic theology in connection with the teaching 
 of Jesus Christ, who certainly, as he is the ex- 
 amplar of all Christians, is peculiarly such of the 
 Christian minister. I do not mean, of course, to 
 deny the need of an educated ministry/ nor to 
 suggest that the mere name and office will confer 
 an inspiration, rendering all else needless. Let 
 our clergymen continue to bring the best talents 
 and best educated talents to their work ; for 
 scarce any department of learning but may be 
 made useful as subsidiary to their profession. 
 But I cannot help thinking that the great de 
 ficiency of Unitarian preachers, which even Uni 
 tarians are beginning to see and acknowledge, 
 their forgetting, apparently, that man has 
 a living spirit as well as a thinking mind, 
 may be in some measure traced to the course 
 of their studies in preparation for their office. 
 And, as you suggest, men placing so little stress, 
 as we rightly do, on mere doctrines and matters 
 of belief have something better to do than spend 
 much time on a technical divinity suited well 
 enough to the controversial divines of earlier 
 days. M. says he shall not study Hebrew be- 
 
1 8 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 cause he will have the New Testament to preach 
 and not the old Jewish law. I am not sure that 
 he is quite right ; and, perhaps, Dr. Ware or 
 Dr. Palfrey would say the same, or something 
 stronger, of the idea which I have thrown out, 
 crudely enough, above. It seems to be evident 
 that new and more enlightened views are begin 
 ning to be taken of the true character and position 
 of the minister, and I should like to wait the 
 results. Perhaps it would only be waiting for 
 the river to run by." 
 
 After the momentary disenchantment which 
 he experienced on his return to Cambridge, 
 Longfellow found the years he spent there, after 
 college, much as he had previously imagined 
 them. They were evidently very useful and 
 happy ; his life conformed much to his natural 
 taste for quiet, and his disposition to follow the 
 bent of the hour in studying and thinking. 
 
 His pupils, regular or occasional, gave him 
 enough of stated occupation to prevent the list- 
 lessness he had feared without it, and for the 
 rest of his time he had abundant resources in his 
 love of literature and philosophy and in the 
 cultivation of his tastes. Music was, lifelong, 
 his unfailing resource. He enjoyed it in its 
 classical forms, and had a great love for simple 
 and expressive melodies. From Cambridge, 
 
POST-GRADUATE DAYS 19 
 
 recourse was easy to the musical privileges of 
 Boston, and he constantly availed himself of 
 them. All other forms of art attracted an equally 
 appreciative attention. Even the exquisite per 
 formances of that "living poem of motion," 
 Fanny Elssler, the famous danseuse, gave him 
 intense pleasure. 
 
 Part of the time he was proctor, a college offi 
 cial the duties of whose office have never been 
 oppressive. The most exacting of them was at 
 tendance at daily prayers, morning and evening. 
 The jejune character of these exercises he notes, 
 yet sees the advantage and interest of a daily 
 assemblage of all the college. "After all, it is 
 not so much of a hardship," he says, "to get up 
 in the morning when a bell is ringing in your ears 
 two rods away ; what I dislike is being tied down 
 to six P. M." One of his favorite enjoyments is 
 suggested in a note which he sends from the 
 A. A. 3>. room to Hale in Boston. " What do you 
 think P. and I are doing in the Germanic way ? 
 Reading Schiller s Rauber o nights. It is 
 somewhat raw -head -and -bloody -bones, about 
 every other word being Holle und Verdammniss, 
 with occasional touches of sentimentalism and 
 recollections of childhood and innocence on the 
 part of the robber-captain." 
 
 An occasional intimation of Longfellow s let- 
 
20 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 ters at this time begins to forebode that burthen 
 of suffering and debility which became so impor 
 tant an element in his experience, and which 
 weighed so heavily upon his ability to discharge 
 the active duties of life. "The fact is, I have 
 felt in the most miserable, wilted, incapable- 
 of-mental-or-physical-exertion state all day long. 
 This Indian summer may be very poetical and 
 very good so far forth as it is an Indian summer, 
 but its effects upon my bodily frame have been 
 of the most disagreeable description. I felt too 
 wretched to come in to the nights and suppers 
 of the gods at Ryan s, where you are now enjoy 
 ing yourselves. The best thing I can do is to 
 
 go to bed. 
 
 " Dear Damon, I am sick. 
 
 " I am going, I know, to pass a miserable 
 night ; nevertheless, I am virtuous enough to 
 wish you a good one." 
 
 Although only fragments of a desultory corre 
 spondence survive from this period, it appears 
 singular that there occurs in them no reference 
 to Longfellow s choice of a calling, and scarcely 
 any to religious subjects in general. The reserve 
 which was peculiarly characteristic of him may 
 account for the latter. " The occasions are few," 
 he writes, a little later, " when I can have such 
 converse [upon deep themes], for it is impossible 
 
POST-GRADUATE DAYS 21 
 
 for me to speak of such things unless I am sure 
 to meet with sympathy." 
 
 It may be that entrance upon the ministry 
 was, for him, so natural a step, and so well under 
 stood among his friends, as to call for little par 
 ticular mention. But even on the humanitarian 
 and ethical side of his nature, some of the sym 
 pathies which were soon to show themselves 
 most warm and controlling in Samuel Longfel 
 low s mind had not been quickened in him at the 
 age of twenty-three, nor had he awakened to 
 some interests which were to seem to him among 
 the most important. An incident which illus 
 trates this is very striking, in view of the future 
 development of his character. In March, 1842, 
 a convention was called in Boston by Ralph 
 Waldo Emerson, Amos Bronson Alcott, Maria 
 Weston Chapman, and Edmund Ouincy, " a 
 committee appointed at the Chardon Street Con 
 vention of October 28, 1841, to call a Convention 
 for the public discussion of the credibility and 
 authority of the Scriptures of the Old and New 
 Testaments." William Lloyd Garrison was among 
 those interested in this meeting, but he was de 
 tained from it by illness. The names of these 
 persons are now a guarantee of the seriousness 
 and dignity of purpose in which the meeting was 
 called. But how it then appeared to our young 
 
22 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 resident-graduate, how little its aim or spirit ap 
 pealed to him, are indicated in his letter to Hale 
 of March 2Qth. 
 
 " I was getting ready to come into Boston this 
 morning to make you go with me to the Conven 
 tion, when I found by the Post that it had ad 
 journed sine die. I have seldom been more vexed, 
 having made up my mind not to miss this, as I 
 had done the others. I chose the second day as 
 likely to afford the most fun, taking it for granted 
 the first would be taken up with getting under 
 way. There is no chance, I suppose, of these 
 people getting together again ; and it is a phe 
 nomenon, and, as you might say, a * phase of 
 the spirit of the age, one does n t like to die with 
 out having seen. However, I expect to see fun 
 nier things yet." 
 
 But these were only the crude impressions of 
 a youth reared under the highly conservative 
 traditions of New England society ; hitherto a 
 student of books only ; long cloistered in the 
 academic seclusion of a college, and who had 
 not yet found his real self. This immaturity 
 was to yield quickly to the touch of real life, and 
 to the stimulating influences which Longfellow 
 was presently to encounter. 
 
IV 
 
 THE DIVINITY SCHOOL : FAYAL 
 
 IN the autumn of 1842, Samuel Longfellow 
 entered the Divinity School of Harvard Univer 
 sity. It was an epoch in his experience. He 
 now took up, definitely, the serious work of life, 
 after the somewhat dilettante interval of his resi 
 dent-graduate years; he came under the influ 
 ence of the Transcendental movement, then at 
 its height, and he was to form the closest and 
 most inspiring friendship of his life. Perhaps 
 the latter, to one who had such a genius for 
 friendship, was the most important condition of 
 all in the development of his character and 
 thought. After forty years of closest intimacy, 
 Mr. Longfellow presented an estimate of Samuel 
 Johnson in a brief memoir, and we need only 
 refer to that for an apprehension of the qualities 
 of a brave, talented, and faithful man and scholar, 
 whose life and labors were quietly, and even 
 obscurely, pursued, and have not yet, perhaps, 
 been justly appreciated. 
 
 Johnson was a man of exceptional intellectual 
 
24 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 power and brilliancy ; of wide, thorough, and 
 accurate scholarship ; imaginative, introspective, 
 rigidly conscientious ; a typical transcendentalist 
 in temperament and modes of thought. While 
 Longfellow was calm, meditative, and debonair, 
 social in disposition, and desultory in his habits 
 of thought and study, his friend was austere, 
 strenuous, systematic, and of tireless industry. 
 An extreme individualist, Johnson s habits were 
 naturally recluse. In dealing with debated ques 
 tions he was dogmatic and aggressive. He 
 shared with Longfellow a highly poetical nature ; 
 and his poems, while fewer, were even of a higher 
 artistic quality and grander strain. The two 
 friends were at one in the spirituality of their 
 habitual thought, and their vivid apprehension of 
 the facts and relations of the spiritual world. 
 With Johnson, however, while his intuitions of 
 divine things were, perhaps, loftier and more 
 intense, they were rather by the avenue of the 
 intellect. To Longfellow, these verities were 
 known by that direct cognizance which is as 
 spiritual vision. The latter was of much wider 
 and warmer personal sympathies ; more patient 
 of opposition and of the slow response of their 
 age to the truths with which they both yearned 
 to enlighten and enfranchise it. But Johnson, 
 also, was a tenderly loving son, brother, and 
 
THE DIVINITY SCHOOL 2$ 
 
 friend ; a devoted pastor ; earnest, self-sacrificing, 
 and practical in the promotion of social reforms. 
 In moral fervor and firmness, and in the radical 
 quality of all their thought, these men, so con 
 genial to each other, were indeed " nobly peers." 
 
 The Divinity School of Harvard University 
 at this time, as for long afterwards, was most 
 meagrely endowed and equipped. Henry Ware, 
 Henry Ware, Jr., and Dr. John G. Palfrey had 
 but recently resigned. Dr. Francis and Dr. 
 Noyes were in the charge of the school, doing, 
 as Mr. Longfellow says, "the work of four 
 professors." Of these very able and excellent 
 men the former was an encyclopedic scholar; 
 refined, genial, and sensitive ; full of sympathy 
 and help for any student who showed signs of 
 real scholarship ; opening the stores of his own 
 learning and the contents of his library, freely 
 and kindly, to any such who sought his aid ; 
 conservative in temperament and cautious in 
 expression, but thought to be broader in his 
 esoteric views than in his public utterances ; 
 formal and reserved, yet cordial, in personal 
 intercourse ; fluent but prosaic in his public 
 offices ; a true gentleman and thoroughly a 
 clergyman of the old school. Both he and his 
 colleague were nearly fifty years of age. 
 
 Dr. Noyes, " the Rabbi," as he was affection- 
 
26 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 ately called by the students, was a small, wiry, 
 grim but good-humored man, probably the best 
 Hebrew scholar of his day in this country ; of 
 quiet and even shy manners, but incisive in 
 speech, and of a dry and occasionally caustic wit ; 
 rigidly upright ; as an exegete and translator hav 
 ing no views of his own, but devoted with unquali 
 fied singleness of mind to identifying the meaning 
 of his author. The lectures and recitations con 
 ducted by these good men were full of the best 
 learning of their generation. They taught, or 
 meant to teach, the youth before them to search 
 for truth and nothing but the truth, fearing no 
 consequences ; but they belonged, especially Dr. 
 Francis, to a former time ; their methods were 
 scholastic and antiquated ; in later days, at least, 
 their exercises were tedious and uninspiring in 
 the extreme. 
 
 Among the students with whom Longfellow 
 became associated in the different classes of the 
 school was a full proportion of men who were to 
 be eminent for learning, practical usefulness, or 
 profound and progressive thinking. Of these, 
 for him, Samuel Johnson was, of course, facile 
 princeps. But there were others, in character, 
 scholarship, power of thought, philanthropic zeal, 
 and devotion to their calling, fully his peers. 
 Joseph Henry Allen, Charles Henry Brigham, 
 
THE DIVINITY SCHOOL 27 
 
 Edmund Burke Willson, Thomas Hill, John 
 Farwell Moors, Octavius Brooks Frothingham, 
 William Rounseville Alger, Thomas Wentworth 
 Higginson, Grindall Reynolds, were some of 
 them. Johnson found the school "cold and 
 spellbound," and it is likely that few of his fellow- 
 students could follow his idealistic flights and 
 "Transcendental Reveries." But where such 
 men were gathered and at work, in all the warmth 
 and earnestness of ingenuous, ambitious youth, 
 there could hardly be a real stagnation and chill. 
 Yet they were all together, indeed, under the 
 "spell" of their generation, which was only be 
 ginning to burst the fetters of traditional opinion 
 and sentiment which hung heavily in those days 
 upon the Unitarian community. A new learning 
 had to be developed and justified before this eman 
 cipation should be accomplished. But the crisis 
 was upon them ; the dawn of a genuine liberalism 
 was breaking, and its rays were piercing the 
 sombre evergreens about Divinity Hall. "The 
 Transcendental movement . . . was then at full 
 tide. The germs of it had been already in Dr. 
 Channing s sermons. Dr. Henry had translated 
 Cousin s Criticism of Locke ; Emerson had 
 printed Nature and the early addresses at 
 Cambridge, Dartmouth, and Waterville, this 
 last his completest expression of spiritual pan- 
 
28 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 theism, and had collected and edited the chap 
 ters of Sartor Resartus ; Dr. Walker had given 
 his Lowell lectures on Natural Religion, dis 
 tinctly based on the existence in man of certain 
 spiritual faculties which he held to be as trust 
 worthy guides to spiritual truths as the senses 
 and understanding are to physical facts." l 
 
 The young men had also found out certain 
 German and French philosophers and mystics ; 
 and in biblical exegesis were reading, beside 
 the old stand-bys, DeWette s " Introduction " 
 and Strauss s " Life of Jesus." They were going 
 into Boston to hear Theodore Parker, who had 
 secured his " chance to be heard " there, and 
 was vigorously improving it. 
 
 At the same time, the inspiring tides of the 
 antislavery controversy were surging throughout 
 the land, washing away many prejudices and 
 traditions besides those strictly germane to itself, 
 and making men see all truth more clearly. The 
 Texas debate and that over the Mexican War 
 came on, and made politics exciting and bitter, 
 yet infused into them a profoundly moral ele 
 ment. 
 
 All these influences expended themselves on 
 the little community of the Divinity School, ex 
 citing endless discussions within and without the 
 
 1 Memoir of Samuel Johnson, page 14. 
 
THE DIVINITY SCHOOL 29 
 
 lecture-rooms, stimulating deeply the minds and 
 consciences of the students. Recitations were 
 not seldom the scene of hot debates, in which 
 the professors had to descend to the level of the 
 combatants, and at times to act with some energy 
 on the defensive. But, especially, controversy 
 raged in the weekly debating meetings. " Do 
 you still combat Willsonianisms on Friday 
 nights ? " Longfellow writes to Johnson, later. 
 He was never an eager, nor even a willing, dis 
 putant ; but he was singularly clear and firm in 
 his convictions, which he expressed with posi- 
 tiveness and gravity, but preferably as intuitions 
 rather than argumentatively. Unkind he could 
 not be, yet he was not quite incapable of pre 
 judices, in these early days, nor of something 
 like partisanship, as his references to typical 
 conservatives sometimes show. His opinions, 
 thus far, were apparently little modified from 
 those of the Unitarianism in which he had been 
 brought up. But he was a radical and a tran- 
 scendentalist by nature, and these traits were 
 fast determining him to views in religion much 
 in advance of the prevailing Unitarian thought. 
 We can, even now, range pretty surely the 
 partisans in those youthful discussions in Divin 
 ity Hall 
 
 After a year of this new and stimulating life, 
 
30 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 Longfellow seems to have found his health im 
 paired, and he accepted an invitation to go out 
 to Fayal as tutor in the family of Mr. Charles 
 W. Dabney, long United States consul at the 
 Azores. That gentleman, by enterprise, force of 
 character, public spirit, and benevolence, had 
 become, as it were, a feudal chieftain on his 
 island. Surrounded by a large circle of his rela 
 tives and descendants, he lived with them a 
 charming life of refinement, bounty, hospitality, 
 and usefulness, in the midst of the half-tropical 
 loveliness and balmy atmosphere of (as Long 
 fellow calls it in the words of some other) "the 
 green and breezy isle." Such a setting to exis 
 tence, and the habits of such a family, were 
 thoroughly congenial to our student, and the year 
 was delightful and reinvigorating to him. His 
 duties were light, and of the kind which, with his 
 love of the young, he especially enjoyed. The 
 mild climate was very agreeable, and the pictur 
 esque scenery gratified his sense of beauty. Mr. 
 Dabney s family he called, in one of his letters 
 home, " the best in the world." 
 
FAYAL 31 
 
 TO EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 HORTA, FAYAL, June n, 1843, 
 Sunday Morning. 
 
 MY DEAR EDWARD, Some of the family have 
 gone to church this morning, but as I am quite 
 satisfied, for the present, with High Mass, I con 
 sider it no loss to stay at home and finish my 
 budget of letters. 
 
 We did not get away from Boston till Sunday, 
 five weeks ago to-day. Saturday I was in town 
 doing some last things, I thought those last 
 things would last forever, and called at your 
 door ; but ah ! with the thunder-word was it 
 opened, He you seek has gone to Northampton. 
 I spared myself the pang of saying good-by again 
 to your sisters, and wended my way to Howe s 
 wharf and the brig Harbinger. Pleasant it was 
 to me to find the memorial of yourself which 
 you had left on the cabin-table ; most pleasant 
 as your gift ; most pleasant, for thy sake, gentle 
 Charles ! And let me add that you could not 
 have made a better selection even had you known, 
 as I almost fancied you must, how long and how 
 longingly I had been watching a copy of Lamb s 
 works on Mr. O. s counter ; how " I had looked 
 at the book and thought of the money and looked 
 at the money and thought of the purchase." 
 
32 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 The little note I did not find till (and it was 
 doubly welcome then) one morning, after I had 
 done being seasick, when I took the volume out 
 of its envelope to read upon deck. . . . 
 
 As yet, I have picked up here only two little 
 legends : one, that Columbus, in his early visits 
 to these islands, was wont to stand for hours on 
 the western shore gazing toward the setting sun, 
 setting to rise upon Cipango and Cathay ; the 
 other (and they evidently belong together, though 
 I got them from very different sources), that 
 there is on one of these islands, Flores or Corvo, 
 the memory of a statue which once stood there 
 with its finger pointing to the west. ... 
 
 Don t let any of your friends persuade you, as 
 some of mine tried to do (I did not believe a 
 word of it, though, and so was not disappointed), 
 that there is any enjoyment in a sea voyage. I 
 deliberately declare that I did not have more 
 than two hours of positive pleasure in the whole 
 nineteen days. I was seasick, more or less, for 
 a week, and, after that, so dull and listless, so 
 guiltless of thought, feeling, or fancy, that it 
 seemed as if I must have returned to that state 
 of oysterdom in which, according to Dean Pal 
 frey, I once learned patience. What would I 
 have given, what would any one of us have given, 
 for a hearty laugh ! I was not moved, either, by 
 
FAYAL 33 
 
 any sublimity in the ocean, and in this I was 
 much disappointed. In fact, I think it needs to 
 be seen from the shore, with a fine rocky fore 
 ground, or a strip of silver sand. 
 
 But it is time I told you something of the 
 shore. On the morning of the 26th of May we 
 rounded a rocky headland and saw the white, 
 red-tiled houses and churches of Horta stretching 
 crescent-wise before us, with a background of 
 green cultivated hills. I reeled up the pier with 
 Miss R. on my arm, and we were soon seated 
 in Mrs. Dabney s comfortable parlor, sweet with 
 the fragrance of flowers. How grateful it was ! 
 I have not yet commenced tutorial labors ; in 
 deed, the visit of the " Harbinger" is always holi 
 day. We have amused ourselves, when it has 
 not rained, by various walks through the town 
 and excursions into the country. Everything is 
 odd, foreign and picturesque. The most impor 
 tant excursion we have taken was our visit, last 
 Tuesday, to the Caldeira, or crater, in the cen 
 tre of the island. No longer ebullient, it has 
 not even smoked within the memory of man. A 
 large party we were, of ladies and gentlemen, on 
 horses, donkeys, and feet. I found a walk of eight 
 miles up a constant and very rough ascent, in 
 the middle of a hot day, not a little fatiguing, 
 and perhaps for this reason was little moved by 
 
34 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 a scene which is expected, I believe, to put stran 
 gers into raptures. In the midst of a steep and 
 barren common, covered with moss and heath, 
 you come, all at once, upon a huge- cup, five miles 
 in circumference and perfectly regular ; so deep 
 that the sheep feeding at the bottom looked no 
 larger than white mice ; its sides channeled with 
 rains, and within it a gloomy Stygian lake and a 
 smaller cone and crater. The whole scene was 
 wild and gloomy, but had little beauty. Not so, 
 however, the Valley of the Flemings, which we 
 passed through at sunset on our return ; the 
 Happy Valley itself was not more lovely, the 
 green hillsides and steep ravine ; the dark stone 
 bridge spanning the river-bed ; the white cot 
 tages with the red-tiled roofs ; the villagers in 
 gayest dress, for it was a holiday ; the church- 
 bell ringing and music of guitars from the houses ; 
 over all, the light of a summer afternoon. I 
 promise myself many a pleasant ramble through 
 this charming valley and many a trophy for my 
 sketch-book. Of churches and convents, of our 
 outdoor and indoor life, with family sketches, 
 such as I used to write from Elk Ridge, you shall 
 hear next time. 
 
 The following letter exhibits Longfellow s 
 extreme modesty, often in his early years ap- 
 
FAYAL 35 
 
 preaching self-depreciation, which was a charac 
 teristic trait. His underlying self-confidence, 
 which made him so singularly firm in moral 
 decisions, appears at its close. But we have 
 here, chiefly, some of the struggles of introspec 
 tive youth, and its transcendental musings. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 HORTA, November 21, 1843. 
 
 I thank you, my dear Sam, for those beautiful 
 verses, your " Orphic Hymn," which breathes life 
 again into that dead fable, once indeed a living 
 symbol, as are all those beautiful myths in which 
 the poets poets and prophets of that fair 
 Grecian world shrined their wonderful truths. 
 Pray send me all your poetry. For myself, I 
 have scarce written anything of prose or verse 
 since I have been here save letters. Indeed, 
 I have thought but little ; less, much less, than 
 I hoped and expected. Still, I have lived some 
 beautiful hours and had some revelations from 
 the world around me, revelations which have 
 given peace to my soul and which I hope may 
 prove nourishing dews to the germs of spiritual 
 life within me. And yet, at times, I cannot 
 help it, I feel sad and depressed at the con 
 sciousness of my want of intellectual develop 
 ment. You cannot tell how much I suffered 
 
36 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 when I first came here. I was very dull, and 
 silent, and stupid, and then much ashamed and 
 mortified at being dull, and stupid, and silent. 
 This made me very unhappy, more so than my 
 words convey. I felt as if I had nothing which 
 was wanted here. Then it was that, in my soli 
 tary walks, nature whispered, " Peace ! vex not 
 thyself because thou art not as others ! Be 
 content to be that which thou art ; manifest thy 
 self according to the laws of thy individual being. 
 The flower at thy feet hopes not to be a star, nor 
 strives to be aught but a flower. Be calm, and 
 fear not but thou wilt find thy place. Believe 
 that thou wast not for nothing sent into the 
 world. Obey thy nature, and fear not but that 
 thou wilt do the good thou wast sent to do." 
 Such lessons did the trees and rocks and waters, 
 the green hills and that calm, majestic mountain 
 breathe into my heart. Nor were words of man 
 wanting, and in the pages of Emerson I found 
 strength and reassurance. I am content now to 
 be silent when I have nothing to say. Indeed, I 
 begin to think silence better than words. What 
 says Goethe in this book before me? "We 
 constantly talk a great deal too much. I for my 
 part should be glad to break myself of talking 
 altogether, and speak, like creative nature, only 
 in pictures. That fig-tree, that little snake, the 
 
FAYAL 37 
 
 chrysalis that lies there on the window quietly 
 awaiting its new existence, all these are pregnant 
 signatures ; indeed, he who could decipher them 
 aright might well dispense with the written or 
 the spoken Amen ! " 
 
 I cannot tell you how much comfort I have 
 had from one source ; how happy I have felt in 
 the consciousness, as I never felt it before, of 
 the near presence of friends absent in the body. 
 Often, my friend, have you come and walked 
 beside me in my evening ramble, or opened the 
 door of this chamber, as you used to do that of 
 my room in Massachusetts Hall, and this, not 
 as a thing of fancy but a reality. " Spaces in 
 Heaven," thus speaks Swedenborg, " are nothing 
 else than external states corresponding to the 
 internal. Hence, in the spiritual world, one per 
 son is exhibited as present to another, provided 
 he intensely desires his presence, for thus he 
 puts himself in his state." 
 
 TO JOHN T. G. NICHOLS. 
 
 HORTA, FAYAL, February 26, 1844. 
 
 DEAR JOHN, . . . "Did you not promise to 
 write to me ? " I dare say I did, dear John, 
 since you say so ; but (if that be any excuse and 
 not rather an aggravation) I had entirely forgotten 
 it. My only wonder is that that dreadful sea 
 
38 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 voyage did not swallow up in its dull blank all 
 remembrance of my former life. I had not, 
 however, forgotten you, and when I read in your 
 letter of all you are doing for the good of those 
 about you, I felt as if I were leading here a very 
 useless and inactive life ; and, what is worse, I 
 felt as if I should never lead a very useful one ; 
 for though I have the wish to do good, I have 
 not the activity and energy of mind to plan and 
 carry out benevolent objects. This is what dis 
 courages me in view of a clergyman s life, for 
 as Dr. Johnson said, " I do not envy a clergy 
 man s life because it is an easy life, nor do I 
 envy the clergyman who makes it an easy life." 
 
 I have been interested in visiting the Catholic 
 churches and witnessing their ceremonies. There 
 is a sentiment of the poetic and a sentiment of 
 the past hanging about them which appeals to 
 my ideality and reverence. Still, it is very sad 
 to see how dead and lifeless a shell these forms 
 have become. The lower classes are sincere and 
 devotional, but those who have such a degree of 
 intellectual development as to see through and 
 despise the form, without having spiritual devel 
 opment enough to put a new life into the form, 
 are in bad condition. And this is the case with 
 most of the " better class " of people here (partic 
 ularly the men), and with some at least of the 
 
FA YAL 39 
 
 priests. If I could make a reform I would not 
 begin by doing away with the Catholic religion, 
 for the mass of the people, at least. If one 
 could reform the priests, and by that I mean as 
 much as anything, open their eyes, now blinded 
 by the dust which falls from every crevice of 
 their ancient pile, and show them the mighty 
 responsibility which rests upon them as the 
 guardians of the people, and moreover show 
 them how to begin a moral regeneration, that 
 would be the best way. They do not object here 
 to the reading of the Scriptures by the people, 
 but the people, the poor, do not know how to 
 read. They are improving, however, in this 
 respect. Could I not get some Portuguese Tes 
 taments in Boston to distribute ? Those who can 
 read thirst for the word of God. . . . 
 
 TO EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 HORTA, FA YAL, February 17, 1844. 
 
 ... I might tell you of the delightful October 
 which we spent at Pico ; how we lived at " The 
 Priory, " which was a real priory, or had been ; 
 how we slept in monks cells and dined in the 
 refectory; how we jumped rope and danced 
 Scotch reels ; how I read Lamb (your Lamb) and 
 Bremer to the ladies and edited their newspapers ; 
 how we bathed in the surf in the morning, and 
 
4O SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 took long strolls in the afternoon, and virtuously 
 read Portuguese in the evening ; how in short, 
 we enjoyed ourselves as only people on the sea 
 shore can enjoy themselves. How often I used 
 to think, This and this will I write to Ned Hale ; 
 but the events which then filled all my horizon, 
 and would have filled all my letters, are now 
 crowded into a few lines, on the well-known prin 
 ciple of bridge-lamp perspective. . . . 
 
 This winter is only a cool summer. I find 
 myself in somewhat improved health ; teach the 
 three R s and such higher branches as are needed 
 to docile pupils ; study Portuguese with a young 
 padre in the Franciscan convent ; attend Catholic 
 mummeries with poetic faith ; read the literature 
 of the day, and enjoy my rest in the bosom of 
 the best family in the world. But why tell you 
 this ? Did you not yourself, years agone, in 
 black silk kersey robes, foretell to me my 
 present life in choice Ciceronian, whereof a doc 
 ument ever since remains in my portfolio, and 
 furnishes me the very words ? " Mehercle, in cam- 
 panis villis morari, in hortis splendidam prolem 
 alentem, aut otiose in ora ambulantem et maris 
 fluctus spectantem, tempus terere te oportuit." 
 Imagine my delight in taking this out the other 
 day ! ... 
 
FAYAL 41 
 
 HORTA, April 20, 1844. 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, I am up early this fresh, 
 glowing morning, and, after watering my garden, 
 have come back to my chamber to send you word 
 of my well-being, across the ocean on the wings 
 of the morning. You are all asleep in the old 
 home, for we have three hours the start of you. 
 May your dreams be pleasant ones ! 
 
 I am writing to the music of blackbirds and 
 chaffinches, who are pouring out their song as 
 if their souls were in it, touched by this sum 
 mer sun. . . . The spring has come on, more 
 beautiful than ever, and is not spring, but sum 
 mer, crowned with glowing flowers, not pale 
 snowdrops. 
 
 I wander about a good deal, regretting only 
 that I have no companion, for the boys like better 
 a ride on horseback. Occasionally I take my 
 sketch - book, which is getting quite full, and 
 which, one of these days, I shall have the pleas 
 ure of turning over with you and talking over 
 with you. Sometimes we make up a party and 
 take a long excursion into the country in the 
 pleasantest possible way. Only, instead of the 
 family wagon or the carryall, as in our excursions 
 at home, we have donkeys, and servants to carry 
 on their shoulders the great baskets of picnic 
 good things, so that we make a much more pic- 
 
42 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 turesque appearance, winding up and down the 
 steep roads, than the line of vehicles presents in 
 which our parties convey themselves and their 
 eatables to Black Point or Cape Cottage. 
 
 Since I wrote you, I have been to Castello 
 Branco, and to the Caldeira again ; and last week 
 Miss Green, Sarah Sawyer, Olivia Dabney, and 
 I (the sole gentleman who could be mustered for 
 the occasion), set off one glorious morning, and 
 winding through my Beautiful Valley found our 
 selves at last in a deep rocky ravine, the object 
 of our wanderings, and known as the laurestinus 
 glen. A beautiful spot ! The top is shut in by 
 a sheer precipice a hundred feet and more in 
 height, over which, when the river is full, pours 
 the Salto Grande, or great waterfall ; but the 
 waterworks here are like those at Versailles, 
 which play only on particular occasions, that is, 
 after a heavy rain. As it was, the water trickled 
 down the face of the dark rock and dropped into a 
 basin below with a cool, pleasant murmur. And 
 here, shaded from the noon sun, we resigned 
 ourselves to the romance of the time, and ate 
 our oranges and bread. The sides of the ravine 
 were covered with the clustered flowers of the 
 wild laurestinus, and at our feet, in green nooks 
 among the rocks, bloomed violets, " sweeter than 
 the lids of Cytherea s eyes." 
 
FA YAL 43 
 
 We get newspapers now and then by the 
 whalers, so that we are not altogether ignorant 
 of what is going on in the world at large of 
 America. I cannot but wish, whenever a whaler 
 comes in from New Bedford, that you had sent 
 letters. I should welcome these brown-faced, 
 rough-handed men, who sit beside me at dinner, 
 most heartily if they brought me a letter now 
 and then ; but when I ask them what news from 
 America, and they answer, " Nothing particular," 
 it seems to stop the conversation rather abruptly. 
 
 When the Styx was here a few weeks ago, 
 engaged in a survey of the island, we saw the 
 officers quite often. There was a party made for 
 them at bagatelle, and another here. . . . After 
 tea in the saloon, there were dancing and games, 
 of which they are very fond here. The dancing 
 always winds up with a Portuguese dance, a slow 
 movement, accompanied by much snapping of 
 fingers, castanet-wise, and very graceful when 
 well danced. As everybody present is chal 
 lenged and expected to join, I usually make my 
 escape about this time. . . . 
 
 I long to hear what events are taking place in 
 the family circle. Every night when I go to bed 
 I look over the western hills and think of you, 
 and I have been happy to find how near my 
 friends at home have been to me in spirit since 
 
44 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 I have been here. May God bless and guard you 
 all, my dear mother ! Remember me in your 
 prayers. With much love, yours, SAM. 
 
 HORTA, May 7, 1844. 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, ... I am indeed thank 
 ful that my letters have brought me nothing but 
 good news. I seldom dream of ill, yet it is not 
 without some trembling of the heart that I watch 
 the Harbinger slowly sweeping round the head 
 land to her anchorage, or open the packet of 
 letters which she brings. What a bitter winter 
 you have had in New England ! I am not sorry 
 to have been away from it. I like cool and 
 bracing weather ; but that intense cold, which 
 makes one s nose blue and fingers stiff, and seems 
 to send all the blood back into the heart, is be 
 numbing and contracting alike to body and mind. 
 I like an atmosphere where I can expand and 
 grow, as Mr. Emerson says, " like corn and 
 melons." 
 
 I wish you had been here to breakfast with us 
 on the first of May. We had none of the real 
 mayflowers, nor any ramble in the woods before 
 breakfast, because there are no woods to ramble 
 in, but, that the day might not be unhonored, I 
 went out early into the embowered gardens, and 
 gathered for each plate at the breakfast-table a 
 
FA YAL 45 
 
 fragrant and dewy nosegay of damask roses, 
 verbena, heliotrope, and sweet pea. The gardens 
 are full of trees and shrubs and shady walks and 
 nooks ; but what strikes you most is the lavish 
 abundance of the flowers, and their luxuriant 
 growth. Walking out in the morning, you would 
 think it had rained flowers all night. It was some 
 time before I could learn to pick choice flowers 
 with as little compunction or ceremony as if they 
 were dandelions or buttercups, sure that to-mor 
 row would repair the loss of to-day. 
 
 A bold style of gardening is practiced here 
 which suits me. You transplant plants in full 
 bloom, and they never mind it, but make them 
 selves at home immediately. You stick down 
 bunches of geraniums anywhere, and they take 
 root without more ado and bloom in a month or 
 two. And what do you think of cutting off the 
 top of a great tree and setting out the slip (some 
 twelve feet high, with all its branches on), and 
 having it grow ? 
 
 ... I bathe in the sea almost every day, and 
 walk in the afternoon after school one or two 
 hours. One gets a great deal of exercise, too, 
 out of a walk here, the roads are so roughly paved 
 and so steep. I make great friends of the little 
 boys who come begging for " cine reisin," or five 
 mills (a modest sum), with such merry voices and 
 
46 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 such beautiful eyes that I forget how ragged 
 and dirty they are, and, in default of money, show 
 them my sketches and try to talk Portuguese 
 with them. With love, affectionately yours, 
 
 SAML. LONGFELLOW. 
 
 In the autumn of 1844 Samuel Longfellow has 
 returned from pleasant Fayal, and is again ear 
 nestly at work in his theological course. He 
 seems now to have taken up his abode with his 
 brother Henry, who had married during his 
 absence, and had acquired the fine old mansion 
 in which he had had chambers since his first 
 coming to Cambridge as professor, and which 
 was destined to be his lifelong home. Through 
 the devoted love of the two brothers, it was, at 
 intervals, the home, for long periods, of Samuel 
 Longfellow also. 
 
 TO EDWARD EVERETT HALE (AT WASHINGTON). 
 CRAIGIE HOUSE [Cambridge], December 26, 1844. 
 
 DEAR EDWARD, Here is one of those soft, 
 mild, misty days that come, now and then, during 
 our winter, to tell us that there is yet in the 
 world such a thing as spring, and fill us with 
 pleasant, nameless spring feelings and unpleas 
 ant, nameless colds-in-the-head. 
 
 Yes, we of the centre are " always writing dis- 
 
THE DIVINITY SCHOOL 47 
 
 sertations," and the quantity of German books 
 that I borrowed that week from Dr. Francis and 
 the college library and read, too, so far as 
 I needed would quite surpass belief. Really, 
 though, I was quite glad to find how well I could 
 push my way, without a dictionary, after two or 
 three years total abstinence. And this only 
 confirms my belief that our college course does 
 really amount to more than some people are 
 fond of making out, and that, too, the old lamp 
 can be rubbed up with ease and to some purpose. 
 Now I am reading De Wette on Religion, with 
 Frothingham and a dictionary, but our worthy 
 professor s father-in-law, it must be confessed, is 
 a little prosy, though very good. 
 
 My fire burning low, I got up to " put some : " 
 and then, lying down on the too inviting sofa, 
 finished my letter after a fashion to which I am 
 greatly addicted, but which, pleasant as it is, 
 hath this fatal inherent defect, that it avails no 
 wise to the filling of blank pages or the satisfy 
 ing the demands of expectant correspondents. 
 Now I have but a page left and must tell what 
 more I have to say in shorthand. I have been 
 living a very quiet life here in Cambridge since 
 my return ; seeing but few people out of Craigie 
 House saving the Divinity Hallers. At the 
 beginning of the year appeared at the school 
 
4 8 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 one Greene, who has been through West Point 
 and the Florida War and the Baptist Seminary 
 at Newton, where I dare say you knew him. A 
 youth of keen mind, purely metaphysical ; before 
 whom, as fableth James Richardson, the whole 
 school did at once succumb and were led off into 
 the wilderness of Calvin-, or quasi - Calvinism. 
 To whom said James felt called upon to oppose 
 his whole energies, and with weapons of "the 
 innate holiness of man" and "no-such-thing-as- 
 sin," fight to the uttermost, victory remaining 
 yet doubtful. All these things I look upon from 
 without. It was once said of Frank Parker that 
 he had been seen on the outskirts of one or two 
 Boston parties. I have actually been not on the 
 outskirts, but in the very midst and centre of 
 several, this winter. . . . 
 
 The vacation is coming near. I shall be for 
 the most part in winter quarters in Portland. I 
 wish they would let me preach. I feel curious 
 to know how I shall make out. ... I have not 
 written a sermon yet, nor can I understand how 
 a man can write a proper sermon till he has 
 learned how by actual preaching. 
 
 The most important incident of Samuel Long 
 fellow s remaining years at the school was the 
 somewhat remarkable one of his undertaking, in 
 
THE DIVINITY SCHOOL 49 
 
 conjunction with Samuel Johnson, to prepare a 
 new book of hymns for the use of Unitarian 
 congregations. The existing collections were 
 mostly very dreary. Dr. Greenwood s, compiled 
 about fifteen years before, was a great improve 
 ment on its predecessors, and was highly popular 
 in Unitarian societies, being in use in half or 
 more of them. But while it contained many 
 noble and beautiful hymns, it was encumbered 
 with a mass of sadly prosaic and antiquated ones. 
 Its doctrinal quality was, of course, that of the 
 conservative Unitarianism of the period. Sev 
 eral others were, about this time, coming into 
 competition with what may be called the stand 
 ard collection. The motive which impelled these 
 young men to prepare yet another was largely a 
 poetical one, but it was still more the desire to 
 provide a body of hymns in which the religious 
 attitude of the worshiper should be that of a 
 more natural and immediate relation with the 
 Divine Spirit, and in which, especially, the dig 
 nity of humanity, the hopefulness of being, the 
 obligations of rectitude and brotherly love, should 
 have more adequate expression. 
 
 Once launched upon this enterprise, the two 
 friends prosecuted it with the greatest zeal and 
 thoroughness and with a business energy hardly 
 to be looked for in theological neophytes. They 
 
50 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 read, criticised, and compared literally thousands 
 of hymns, ransacking the collections of all 
 denominations, and the poetry of other languages 
 besides our own ; gleaning even in the newspa 
 pers, and utilizing portions of poems by skillful 
 adaptation. They added thus to our resources 
 many new and beautiful hymns which have taken 
 a permanent place in our affections. Whittier 
 they may almost be said to have introduced to 
 the world as a hymnist. Newman s " Lead, 
 Kindly Light," they found in a newspaper, 
 anonymous, and so printed it. The first word 
 and the second line were incorrect through a 
 misprint, and a more than doubtful change was 
 made by the young editors in the third stanza. 
 It is probable that Mrs. Adams s "Nearer, my 
 God, to Thee," here first appeared, at least in 
 an American collection. Beautiful hymns from 
 Sears, Furness, Clarke, Harriet Beecher Stowe, 
 Emerson, Henry W. Longfellow, Trench, Very, 
 Lowell, and others, still fresh if not wholly new, 
 enriched the volume. They diligently gathered 
 material, also, from private sources, and did not 
 fail in the courage it then required to invite con 
 tributions from Theodore Parker, printing his 
 noble " O thou great Friend to all the sons of 
 men," with one or two others from his pen. A 
 number of the hymns were original, written by 
 
THE DIVINITY SCHOOL 51 
 
 the compilers themselves or by their friends, 
 partly with a view to the particular aims of the 
 new collection. Most, if not all of these, they 
 published as anonymous, and not all have ever 
 been credited to their authors ; but among them 
 were some of the finest, which have remained 
 among the treasures of our hymnology. 
 
 The " Book of Hymns " unquestionably marked 
 a great advance upon its predecessors in poetical 
 and spiritual quality, and it was in these respects 
 that it was especially distinguished from them. 
 While the tendencies of thought in the young 
 men who prepared it, especially in Johnson, were 
 radical and progressive, how moderate were their 
 conscious departures from the Unitarianism of 
 their day appears by the structure of this hymn- 
 book and its particular contents. The hymns 
 were classified under the headings "Jesus 
 Christ," "The Christian Life," "The Christian 
 Character," "The Communion," and the like. 
 The supernatural character of Jesus is fully ex 
 pressed by the titles "Saviour," "Redeemer," 
 "King," and "Son of God," occurring through 
 out. Forty -four hymns refer to him particularly ; 
 to Christianity and topics claimed as Christian, 
 over two hundred more. " I am not sure," says 
 Mr. Longfellow, " but this part was rather less 
 the work of Johnson than of his collaborator, of 
 
52 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 whom he was generally a little in advance in his 
 theology." But something was, after all, deficient, 
 which the sensibilities of that distinctly " transi 
 tion " period detected, and which was prophetic, 
 doubtless, of the wider departures from Unita 
 rian orthodoxy to which the minds of the young 
 editors were tending. Many familiar hymns had 
 been sacrificed to a new religious spirit which 
 was making its appearance at this era. " Theodore 
 Parker liked the book," says Mr. Longfellow in 
 his memoir of his co-editor, because " it recog 
 nized more than was usual in the Unitarian hymn- 
 books the idea that there is a Holy Spirit and 
 that God is really present with and in the soul of 
 man, a doctrine which Unitarianism then looked 
 upon as somewhat fanatical." 
 
 On the whole, while the collection met with 
 some severe criticism, and in few places super 
 seded the well-established "Greenwood s," it 
 received a gratifying welcome. An edition of 
 five hundred copies was taken up in three or 
 four months, the first society to adopt it being 
 that of the Church of the Unity, just organized 
 in Worcester, over which Longfellow s faithful 
 friend Hale had just been installed. Theodore 
 Parker s Music Hall congregation soon adopted 
 it, and others followed. Within two years a 
 second edition was called for, giving the editors 
 
THE DIVINITY SCHOOL 53 
 
 a chance for revisions. Their correspondence 
 during these years is full of their undertak 
 ing ; its principles ; the business of it ; the 
 criticisms on the book ; the changes and correc 
 tions needed. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 [No date.] 
 
 " Now as to M. [a critic]. Our book is not 
 thought insignificant, Sam. We get more talked 
 about than any of the others. But M. s objection 
 is the funniest of all. The omission of certain 
 classes of hymns might unfit a book for church 
 use ; but how the omission of particular hymns 
 can do so passes my understanding. Think of 
 his taking the trouble to hunt up all those first 
 lines ! I thought, at first, it was a long poem. 
 But it is the best thing he could have done for 
 us, Sam, if people will look at those hymns and 
 think wJiy we left them out. Our book needs 
 to be compared with others to make its higher 
 tone distinctly visible. ... If they will but 
 notice, in praise or blame, its humanity ! " 
 
 But the editors excited especial criticism by 
 their own alterations and amendments, although 
 these were much less conspicuous in the " Book 
 of Hymns " than they became in the " Hymns 
 
54 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 of the Spirit" of 1864. They defended these 
 alterations on the practical ground taken, proba 
 bly, by all compilers of church collections. Not 
 long before his death Mr. Longfellow wrote to 
 his successor in his Brooklyn pulpit, " It is the 
 principle of adaptation to a special use which is 
 the only justification of changes in hymns that I 
 can offer. It is a question of using or not using 
 which makes it needful to change (i) some verses 
 originally written not as hymns, yet which one 
 wants to use as such ; (2) some hymns written by 
 persons of different beliefs from those who are 
 to use the hymn-book, phrases in which could 
 not be conscientiously said or sung by the latter, 
 yet which from their general value of strength, 
 fervor, or tenderness could ill be spared. ... If 
 I had been making a collection of hymns or reli 
 gious poetry for private reading, I should not 
 have altered a single word." 
 
 It must be admitted that the liberty taken 
 with individual hymns, especially in the " Hymns 
 of the Spirit," was large. Colonel Thomas 
 Wentworth Higginson, who was one of the ori 
 ginal contributors to the " Book of Hymns," 
 writes : " My sister, an intimate friend of Mr. 
 Longfellow, satirized this propensity in one of 
 the nonsense stanzas then so prevalent. It must 
 be premised that as both the editors were named 
 
THE DIVINITY SCHOOL 55 
 
 Samuel, their book was often characterized as 
 the Sam-Book. * 
 
 " There once were two Sams of Amerique 
 Who belonged to a profession called clerique. 
 They hunted up hymns and cut off their limbs, 
 These truculent Sams of Amerique. 
 
 Longfellow entered heartily into this jest, and 
 illustrated the verses with a pen and ink sketch, 
 representing two young men with large shears, 
 cutting up rolls of paper. The likeness of John 
 son, who was very handsome, with the air of a 
 high -caste Parsee or Assyrian, was unmistak 
 able." 2 
 
 1 Or Book of Sams. Theodore Parker appears to have called 
 it so first. 
 
 2 The same lady, in a poem characterizing, also, two of his 
 intimate associates, wrote these stanzas upon Longfellow, in 
 
 184? : - 
 
 " Thou, the gentlest and most youthful, 
 
 With thy childlike poet-heart, 
 And thy temper, trusting, truthful, 
 Ignorant of selfish art ; 
 
 " Life s glad echoes, thrilling through thee, 
 
 Woke the spirit to its tone 
 As from harpstrings singing true, the 
 Summer breezes wake their own. 
 
 " And as such harp, in the woodland 
 
 Hung to answer nature there, 
 E en beneath the storm wind s rude hand 
 Swept with force, yields yet a prayer ; 
 
56 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 While the hymn-book engaged so earnestly 
 the minds of the two friends, especially Longfel 
 low s, who seems to have done the larger part of 
 the work, the regular duties of the school were 
 proceeding, and their hearts were fully engaged 
 in them. The growth and maturing of Longfel 
 low s character reflect themselves clearly in the 
 remains of his correspondence. His interest in 
 social reforms deepens visibly. His radicalism 
 of thought becomes more and more distinct, 
 although he parts slowly with the forms of opin 
 ion and modes of expression in which he had 
 grown up. The question of moral and intellec 
 tual fitness for the ministry agitates his mind, 
 alongside the anticipations of its various forms of 
 duty and visions of places of settlement, which 
 are common to students in the last year of their 
 theological course. There appears always that 
 mixture of extreme modesty as to his powers and 
 attainments, with the firmest quiet self-confidence 
 where a distinct moral or intellectual issue pre- 
 
 " So thy spirit, answering duly 
 
 To each wandering zephyr s tone, 
 In its deeper chord, as truly 
 
 Vibrates back to Heaven alone." 
 
 " This image of the ^Eolian harp," says Colonel Higginson, 
 "an instrument much more familiar fifty years ago than now, 
 is perhaps the best description of the temperament of Samuel 
 Longfellow." 
 
THE DIVINITY SCHOOL 57 
 
 sents itself, which was characteristic of the man 
 throughout life. Among the particular personal 
 influences to which he was yielding, at this time, 
 was evidently that of Theodore Parker, whose 
 boldness of thought, the naturalness of his reli 
 gious attitude, and his simple, earnest piety, 
 attracted Longfellow ; while something in his 
 temper, his disposition to satire, and his occa 
 sional truculence repelled the younger man. As 
 the champion of freedom in religious opinion, 
 and the martyr of the moment to that principle, 
 Longfellow was now wholly in sympathy with 
 him, as he was beginning to be with Parker s 
 more peculiar views. " Yes," he says, in writing 
 to Hale during the winter of his middle year in 
 the school, " I have actually got through my letter 
 without mentioning THEODORE. You have heard 
 from Boston, I suppose, how they are stewing 
 about him, with Clarke-exchanges and Sargent- 
 resignations and Church-of-Disciples-secessions 
 and Christian World and Register scoldings. Let 
 every man be fully persuaded in his own mind, 
 but I am afraid the Unitarians are going to be 
 false to their great principle and the ground they 
 have taken and been preaching ever since the 
 Unitarian controversy." 
 
58 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, December 19, 1845. 
 
 DEAR SAM, ... I wonder if you have been 
 enjoying these spring days as I have ? It is an 
 intense delight to me, an intoxication just as in 
 the real spring. ... I have just had a visit from 
 
 , but it did not do me much good. He seems 
 
 to be living in a great excitement ; as he says, 
 " preaching Pantheism, Parkerism, and all sorts 
 of heresies," - - but I should rather see a self- 
 devoted, quiet earnestness. Yet why demand of 
 all the same fruits ? He is evidently arousing 
 his people, and putting into them new life, which 
 a calmer man might fail to do. It is not the 
 highest state, but may open a way for it. I will 
 not quarrel with a living spirit, but pray that it 
 may gain depth. . . . To-night there is a discus 
 sion at the Hall, adjourned from one on Wednes 
 day, when your Infidelity resolutions were dis 
 cussed. They take up also the question of "min 
 isterial fellowship " with those who teach only 
 " Love to God and Man." But I will not tell you 
 any more of these things till you come. Don t 
 fail, unless you are happier at home. I have 
 some new poems to read you, not very great but 
 pleasing, by Chenevix Trench. ... I am phy 
 sically ill at ease to-night, and cannot write you 
 
THE DIVINITY SCHOOL 59 
 
 to any purpose but to say that I am thinking of 
 you. 
 
 TO EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, April 15, 1846. 
 
 DEAR EDWARD, Your note came yesterday, 
 with the hymn, which I am very glad you sent 
 me ; for I recognize it as an old favorite which I 
 used to hear sung at home years ago, but which 
 had quite slipped out of my memory. Thank 
 you for interesting yourself in our book. Your 
 various notes would not have remained unac 
 knowledged, but that, the whole of the last week 
 after you left me, I was utterly busy in reading 
 up for and writing a dissertation for Dr. Noyes 
 on the different explanation-theories of the Temp 
 tation. I dare not tell you of the Studien and 
 Kritikens, and Eichhorn s Bibliothek and Leben- 
 Jesu s, that I dived into ; suffice it to say the 
 dissertation was written and read, and I am free 
 for a time from such like. . . . About your Ordi 
 nation Hymn. In part for the reason above 
 mentioned, I have not written a word of it. But 
 I will proceed immediately to put my brain in 
 motion that way. I did fashion a verse or two 
 of it, rudely, as I walked over the bridge one 
 day ; but have quite lost them. Perhaps I shall 
 pick it up as I walk into town to-day. You shall 
 
60 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 have it as soon as I can write it, for better, for 
 worse. But if your choir are in haste, don t 
 make them wait for my uncertain muse. 
 
 Most of all, in writing this, I want to thank 
 you for your warm-hearted note about my ser 
 mon. I am heartily glad that you liked it, and 
 that you wrote me all that you did and Just as 
 you did. It was and will be to me a great en 
 couragement, to know that anything I have writ 
 ten has met so ready and real sympathy from 
 you ; that sermon in particular, which I did 
 write from a depth of feeling that gave me a 
 confidence of its essential truth. I am very glad 
 that you felt it, too. For myself, ever since I 
 wrote that, I have felt more and more strongly 
 that we need a more living faith in Jesus as a 
 personal reality to us, not an abstraction ; not a 
 religion or system of truths ; not a passive organ 
 of the Infinite Spirit, but a living, human friend ; 
 one who grew in grace ; was made perfect through 
 suffering ; whose life is to be interpreted by our 
 own deepest, holiest experience. Such a view, 
 I am convinced, will make him to our souls at 
 once more perfectly human, more truly divine ; 
 more perfectly natural, more profoundly super 
 natural ; and, so far from diminishing, will but 
 deepen and quicken our reverence, as well as 
 our love, for him. 
 
THE DIVINITY SCHOOL 6 1 
 
 At length the momentous experience of a first 
 public appearance in the pulpit. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, January , 1846. 
 
 DEAR SAM, Your beautiful letter came not 
 till Wednesday morning. Sam, it did me great 
 good. I hope one day to reach such earnestness 
 of resolve and purpose, myself. It was pre 
 cisely what I hoped this first preaching would 
 do for me, but you must have seen that it did 
 not has not yet done so. I need, how much, 
 to be roused to an earnest, practical love of man. 
 I believe it is in me, Sam, if it can be kindled ; 
 this must be my prayer ; this must be your 
 prayer for me. I feel that it will come ; voice 
 after voice calls in me, Lord Jesus, come quickly ! 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, Monday, January 19, 1846. 
 DEAR SAM, I have preached, and like it very 
 well ! But the strangest thing must come first ; 
 strangest because it was least of all expected or 
 premeditated ; yet came about in the most natural 
 manner. I am to preach next Sunday for Theo 
 dore Parker, at West Roxbury, which society, 
 it seems, he still supplies (preaching there him 
 self in the afternoon) till February. So you see 
 
62 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 that I have quite got the start of you in that 
 matter. . . . 
 
 But first about Dedham. You know the 
 melancholy storm on Saturday. I went to D. in 
 the evening train, and, getting out of the cars, 
 soon encountered a little man whom I knew at 
 once must be Dr. Lamson. I introduced myself, 
 and we trudged up through the snow to his warm 
 house, where I was in five minutes entirely at 
 home, so informal and kind were they. . . . We 
 sat up till eleven o clock, talking. But, oh ! Sam, 
 all night I dreamed haunting dreams about my 
 first preaching. I cannot remember them now, 
 but one was that when I got into the pulpit I 
 found that my sermon was entitled Lalla Rookh, 
 and I was afraid to preach it. The last phase of 
 the dream was that I awoke and went down, and 
 found that it was six o clock of Sunday evening ; 
 that I had, in fact, slept all day, and that the 
 doctor had preached in my place ! 
 
 After breakfast I selected my chapter and 
 hymns. The doctor s collection proved to be 
 the old " New York Collection," unlike any I 
 ever saw, and I could not find one of the hymns 
 I wanted, except " While Thee I seek," for the 
 opening in the afternoon. The sexton came for 
 the hymns, the bell rang the knell (of parting 
 Sam), and we went through the snow to the 
 
THE DIVINITY SCHOOL 63 
 
 church. To my great joy it had cleared off and 
 was a glad, bright sunshine. At the head of the 
 broad aisle (which is a short one), the doctor 
 bowed to me to go up on one side, while he 
 ascended on the other. We went up the pulpit 
 stairs like Moses and Aaron, " in the sight of the 
 congregation," which consisted, as it seemed to 
 me, of about ten people. I suppose the real 
 number was fifty or so. I would have waited for 
 more to come, but presently the doctor, who 
 knew better, motioned to me to begin, and I 
 arose and made the opening prayer. It seemed 
 just like the School. Then I stepped down and 
 would have taken the hymn-book, but the doctor 
 told me the Scripture must be read next. (N. B. 
 I had been studying the order of the services all 
 the morning !) So I opened the Bible, and made 
 no blunder, except reading the wrong chapter, 
 mistaking xviii. for xvii. The long prayer I made 
 myself, and made it short, I suspect. Then, the 
 sermon. I was not in the least embarrassed or 
 nervous, but felt rather stiff and not altogether 
 at ease ; moreover without a spark of enthusiasm. 
 I was glad to find that I could see the people, 
 and I discovered one young man listening in 
 tently. . . . But in the afternoon I looked and 
 he came not. Sam, the sermon of " Suffering," 
 I am sorry to say, moved rather heavily. In the 
 
64 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 afternoon I gave them the sermon of " Reforms." 
 I felt now entirely at my ease ; the discourse is 
 more animated and I was myself quite lively. At 
 its close the doctor said quite heartily : " I like 
 your sermon very much. I should not wish to 
 alter a word of it." So ended my first preach 
 ing ; and on the whole I liked it very well, as I 
 said. Still, I felt no seriousness or solemnity 
 about the matter, that I must tell you. In the 
 prayers, indeed, I did at times lose myself and 
 felt something of earnestness. I found not the 
 least difficulty or fatigue in speaking. It must 
 be a remarkably easy church to speak in, and I 
 am glad you are going to begin there. In the 
 evening we went to hear Theodore give a dis 
 course on slavery. It was vigorous and direct, 
 and roused me a good deal. It had reference to 
 the duties of the North upon that matter and its 
 interest in it. There was a good deal of irony, 
 some sarcasm, and a hit at the Boston Associa 
 tion of Ministers. Sam, I cannot quite like that 
 man. I feel that we are not of spiritual kin. 
 After the lecture, Dr. L. introduced me to Theo 
 dore, who inquired if I were engaged the next 
 Sunday. I said I had not intended to preach 
 that day. Then he asked me to preach at West 
 Roxbury, and I told him I would, if he wished. 
 So we shall be near each other, Sam, and in the 
 
THE DIVINITY SCHOOL 65 
 
 afternoon I shall walk over to Dedham and spend 
 the night with you at Dr. Lamson s. At parting 
 the doctor gave me one dollar. Theodore says 
 he pays ten dollars ! 
 
 The genuineness of Longfellow s sentiments 
 is intimated in his disappointment at the effect 
 on himself of his early essays in preaching, the 
 importance of which, as spiritual experiences, a 
 sincere beginner naturally magnifies in his youth 
 ful anticipations, not realizing that these first 
 occasions must needs be matters of form, largely. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 PORTLAND, February 17, 1846. 
 
 DEAR SAM, Coming home to-night I found 
 your letter ; most welcome, the only word I have 
 had from your region of the world since I left 
 Massachusetts, which, indeed, is only nine days, 
 though seeming many more. ... I never know 
 what any experience does for me, except when I 
 find that I can do something which once I could 
 not ; then I know that I have grown stronger. 
 I did expect, as I told you, that this preaching 
 would be an era to me, but it has not proved so 
 exactly, and so I am content to " expand and 
 grow like corn and melons." The want that I 
 feel is still devotional feeling, depth and warmth 
 
66 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 and earnestness of religious feeling. I have 
 written nothing since I have been here ; have 
 preached once at S. ... You know what a 
 stormy Sunday it was ; I had to walk half a mile 
 to church, . . . and had fifty people to hear me 
 my usual audience ! A few more, I thought, 
 in the afternoon ; but the music, Sam ! It is 
 truly a most essential thing to the clergyman. 
 I had to cut down all the hymns as much as 
 possible, and, from the first one, " Father, Thy 
 paternal care," they themselves gave me the hint 
 by dropping off the last verse, of their own 
 accord. I was only too glad they did. Such 
 melancholy and unheard-of tunes ! . . . I added 
 two pages to my "Spiritual Aid" sermon, and 
 preached it in the morning, by way of variation. 
 In the afternoon, I gave them the sermon of 
 " Suffering," and Sam, / liked it very much, 
 whatever they did. You cannot say that I 
 depreciate myself ; I do not, unless I compare 
 myself to somebody else, and then I cannot but 
 do so. It was revealed thus to me that I could 
 preach better, more fervently, in the afternoon 
 than forenoon. 
 
 I had one new experience at S. ; being asked 
 to " say grace " at table arid to lead the family 
 prayers, which last I like to do. By the way, I 
 thought it strange that neither at Dr. Lamson s 
 
THE DIVINITY SCHOOL 6/ 
 
 nor Theodore s did they appear to have family 
 prayers. . . . 
 
 Sam, when I said that I liked my sermon, I 
 meant that I felt there were truths in it, and so 
 expressed that they must reach, and perhaps 
 help, some hearts. If it could but draw any 
 nearer to Jesus ! . . . I have begun the Life 
 of Henry Ware ; it is very simply presented, 
 and I know I shall yet get good from it. I find 
 already something of my own experience and my 
 own traits of character in it, and this encourages 
 me to think that I may become a serious, ear 
 nest, fervent, helpful preacher. You may depend 
 upon it, for some minds at least, the thing needed 
 is to be brought into actual contact with men 
 and women and children. Your own men and 
 women ; your own vineyard. Some people seem 
 to have an intense desire to meet certain wants 
 of the community, the age ; my sphere I feel 
 will be to meet the wants of individuals. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 PORTLAND, August 20, 1846. 
 
 DEAR SAM, Last night came your little note 
 instead of yourself. I have been looking daily 
 for a word from you, saying when you would be 
 here. I am very sorry it is not to be at all this 
 vacation ; but there will be time yet, and Cape 
 
68 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 Cottage will wait for us, you know, and the sea, 
 ebbing and flowing every day till we come again. 
 I went over to the cape last Wednesday, and 
 spent three happy days. Glorious sky, sea, sun 
 shine ! There I found my classmate and old 
 friend J., who is gentle and poetic and musical, 
 and that was very pleasant for me. Some of the 
 Thaxters, too, from Watertown, but not Levi, 
 nor John Weiss, who are both secluded on a 
 little lighthouse rock among the Isles of Shoals, 
 off Portsmouth. There they found an eremite, 
 a Mr. Laighton, formerly a politician, but now 
 retired from the strife of that unholy life, with 
 his books, into the quiet of the lighthouse, the 
 only habitation on the island. Wentworth [Hig- 
 ginson] arrived the same afternoon at the cot 
 tage, where his mother and sister already were, 
 and altogether we enjoyed, in the quietest way, 
 the luxury of breathing the breath of life, and 
 doing nothing for the good of the human race, 
 a beautiful " Typee " life. We bathed ; we 
 sat on the rocks, holding books in our hands, but 
 not reading ; we watched the surf ; we counted 
 the white-sailed boats and ships that all the time 
 went to and from the town, which was just out 
 of sight behind a turn in the coast. We sat 
 under trees, singing, or weaving chaplets of bay- 
 berry leaves ; we repeated snatches of sea-ballads 
 
THP: DIVINITY SCHOOL 69 
 
 all the various employments of " him whom 
 the world calls idle." Upon the top of a beautiful 
 cliff crowned with pines and birches, I planned 
 a little book for people to take with them to such 
 places, which should contain all the charming 
 bits of poetry in the language about the sea and 
 the seashore. You must help us from your 
 stores. 1 
 
 A little hymn-book has lately been published 
 here in Portland, which is vastly more " profane " 
 than ours, for it contains bodily " Oft in the 
 stilly night," and " Isle of beauty, fare thee well." 
 . . . On Sunday Dr. Nichols begged me to 
 preach in the afternoon. I chose my sermon on 
 " Coming to Christ," the divine in us recogniz 
 ing the divine in him. I know not how its " tran 
 scendentalism " was liked. Have you ever seen 
 Dr. Channing s sermon on the " Imitableness of 
 Christ s Character"? He says, " Christ never 
 held himself up as inimitable, unapproachable, 
 but directly the reverse," "nor is there anything 
 
 1 This was the origin of Thalatta, in writing which he was 
 assisted by his friend Higginson, who says : " In literature, he 
 had his brother s delicate taste, with an even finer spiritual per 
 ception. His preparation of Thalatta was a work of art ; the 
 arrangement of the poems was by their themes, and had an 
 order of its own. The book was the child of his youth, and he 
 never ceased to love it. All his life he was collecting materials 
 for a second edition, which never came." 
 
?O SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 in him of which we have not the promise, the 
 principle, the capacity in ourselves." "He is 
 truly our brother." I found it here, and liked it 
 much. 
 
THE CANDIDATING PERIOD : WEST CAMBRIDGE 
 
 WITH the summer of 1846 student life is ended, 
 and the agitating and often weary period of 
 " candidating " begins. Mr. Longfellow had 
 already appeared in several pulpits, and it was 
 still early winter when, after preaching there 
 several Sundays, he received a call to West 
 Cambridge. He declined, however, to be per 
 manently settled, but accepted a temporary 
 engagement. 
 
 The following letter is headed by a clever pen 
 and ink sketch of the village and church of West 
 Cambridge. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 WEST CAMBRIDGE, November 9, 1846. 
 
 DEAR SAM, Do you want to see my church 
 at West Cambridge? Here is a distant view, 
 which I sketched on my walk up yesterday, on 
 the back of my sermon on spiritual realities. A 
 glimpse between two great elm trees, a cloudy 
 morning, with gleams of sunshine lighting up 
 
72 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 the white houses against the dark blue hills. I 
 preached my old sermon of the reformer s aims. 
 And now, Sam, farewell to reform sermons ! I 
 am not yet calm, and high, and pure enough 
 myself, I feel, for this. I can but protest and 
 complain ; and this, I feel, is out of place in 
 the church. I came away yesterday afternoon 
 restless and dissatisfied and unhappy ; not more 
 serene, devout, and cheerful, as these hours in 
 the sanctuary should have made me ; and can I 
 hope my people were any better off ? . . . 
 
 I have six or eight manuscript hymns, some 
 of which you have seen. . . . Do let us have 
 some more original ones ; such as will embody 
 the true ideas, without all the plague of altera 
 tion ; such as will just suit our sermons. I wish 
 we had done this at first, instead of altering old 
 hymns. Take your sermons, Sam, and write a 
 hymn for each one. This was the way Dod- 
 dridge made his book. . . . 
 
 To-day I voted, for the first time in my life, 
 and for Palfrey as representative to Congress. 
 I have been reading some facts about the war 
 to-day, and it is lamentable to see how those 
 weak Whigs, all but sixteen in both Houses, 
 were panic-stricken, frightened, cajoled into as 
 suming and supporting the war, a cunning 
 trick of a despotic President, who first assumed 
 
WEST CAMBRIDGE 73 
 
 a power to which he had no shadow of claim, and 
 then duped Congress into taking the thing off 
 his hands. It seems that they need not have 
 done anything even to rescue Taylor ; first, 
 because any assistance from them must necessa 
 rily be too late, and secondly, because he already 
 had authority to demand aid, as he did from 
 Louisiana and Texas. Here is a thing to be 
 reached by political action. Mr. Webster says, 
 in that weak speech of his : " If the voting for 
 the war-bill stained a man s hands with blood, 
 then is the whole Whig party red with blood up 
 to the chin." True, O Daniel ! Think of it ! 
 Only sixteen men straightforward enough to cut 
 through a " complicated question" by a simple 
 fidelity to conscience, not even acute politi 
 cians enough to keep out of this trap of their 
 opponents ! 
 
 TO EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, December 15, 1846. 
 
 DEAR EDWARD, I admire the vermilion 
 edict, 1 and to hear would be to obey ; but it is 
 not "ceteris paribus " (if one but knew the Chi 
 nese for that !), and now, while you are packing 
 your portmanteau, I will tell you why I cannot 
 
 1 Hale had left a note written upon a sheet of red paper, used 
 by the Chinese as a visiting-card. 
 
74 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 come. Because I am going to West Cambridge 
 on the 2d of January, to take up my abode and 
 supply the pulpit for three months. ... It is 
 rather a bleak time to go to so rural a place, but 
 I weary of wandering about and seeing new 
 faces every Sunday, and "getting the hang" of 
 a new pulpit every week. ... I am glad you 
 have spoken a good word for our hymn-book. . . . 
 Though the people of New Bedford spoke kindly 
 of its poetry, none of them seem to have seen 
 the real merit of the book in its higher, health 
 ier, more active, love-to-man tone ; in short, its 
 more purely Christian tone. Dr. Ephraim Pea- 
 body showed some insight into the book and our 
 views. Remorse for sin is not there, and was 
 not meant to be. Not that it is not a real, some 
 times terribly real, state of soul, but surely not a 
 healthy one ; and surely, too, a most private and 
 individual one, and (even if one should find a 
 sincere and earnest expression of it in verse) out 
 of place in public worship. ... Of course, we 
 look for likers of our book rather in new pulpits 
 than in old. Sunday before last I was at Mount 
 Pleasant, in an elegant, but rather desolate 
 church, with an unequaled expanse of pulpit. 
 
WEST CAMBRIDGE 75 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 NEWBURYPORT, January 18, 1847. 
 
 Bless you, Sam, and a happy New Year to you. 
 You will see by my date that I have accepted 
 the invitation of the First Religious Society to 
 preach for them one Sunday and make a little 
 visit. The place looks forlorn these cold days, so 
 chilled and blue-nosed ! The people, though, are 
 only too attentive, and will have me to dinner, 
 or to ride, or to call, or to tea, or at least to be 
 introduced to them on the meeting-house steps. 
 The young ladies beg me to come to their 
 Sunday-school class, and the school committee 
 will take me into the young ladies Academy, 
 where I shall be called upon for an address. 
 Sam, a young minister must keep clear of these 
 girls ! Beautiful enthusiasts, in vain will all the 
 
 P s strive to tame their efflorescence ! There 
 
 is a picture of the whole matter in Retsch, the 
 poet in the hands of the water-nymphs. 
 
 The first thing that caught my eye on entering 
 the pulpit was a bunch of flowers ; so I read 
 "Consider the lilies," but as I brought them 
 home the bitter air froze them into " poor, un 
 sightly, noisome things." I was glad to find 
 they came from a married lady. . . . My former 
 landlady at West Cambridge was sad when I left, 
 
76 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 and begged me not to preach my best sermons 
 here. About this society C. wrote me that they 
 need a reformer, one who would cry aloud and 
 spare not. The committee who came to see me 
 would n t allow but what all was in an excellent 
 state, as if only to the righteous was a minister 
 to go. The gentleman with whom I took tea last 
 night said, in the elegant language of Ezekiel, that 
 they wanted a minister who would make a " shak 
 ing among the dry bones ; " that they wanted 
 some one "to preach up sin !" Can I do that, 
 Sam ? Would n t it be as well to preach it down ? 
 I can t understand, nor will I yield to, this morbid 
 desire of some people to be made uncomfortable. 
 If they know they are sinners, as they say, why 
 want to be told so by their minister? I can, 
 however, understand how people may desire to 
 be aroused from inaction and indifference. But 
 I don t like this depending on the minister for 
 excitement ; this passive waiting to be moved. 
 Some of the people here evidently want evangel 
 ical preaching. "Such preaching as Peabody s 
 and Parker s and Putnam s," said my above- 
 mentioned friend. How liberal ! thought I ; this 
 is the right sort. But I found he meant Nathan 
 Parker of Portsmouth, not Theodore. 
 
WEST CAMBRIDGE 77 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 WEST CAMBRIDGE, March 2, 1847. 
 
 DEAR SAM, I shall never ask you to come 
 and see me again, I believe ! I felt so lonely and 
 downcast after your departure. I sought in vain 
 to take refuge in a sermon. In the afternoon I 
 felt as if a good walk would revive me, and I 
 went away down to the two elms. Then I called 
 in to see an old lady, very sick, who lay panting 
 for breath upon her bed. I could say but little 
 to her, and I felt that, at such a time, the voice 
 of prayer was the most calming and strengthen 
 ing thing. Two days after, she died, and to 
 morrow I attend the funeral. Next, I stopped to 
 read one of my sermons to a poor woman who 
 has been confined to the house for sixteen years, 
 and then home, in just such a sunset of fine pale 
 gold as we saw the trees against, the other after 
 noon. The evening was spent in futile attempts 
 to fix my mind upon a text and a sermon. So I 
 resolved to get an exchange, and stopped at 
 Briggs s, Thursday, on my way to Brookline, but 
 found no one. The night with Sam Eliot, who 
 was preparing his "Words of Christ." They 
 urged my preaching for them on Sunday, and I 
 went over to effect an exchange with old Dr. 
 Pierce, but found him not at home, and proceeded 
 
78 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 to Boston. There, after dinner, I went to the 
 South End after Waterston, who was kindly, but 
 had promised to be at home on Sunday. Then 
 away to the North End to Robbins, who would 
 gladly, but could not ; then to Dr. Parkman s, 
 who was engaged at Old Cambridge, but would 
 prefer West Cambridge, only, being sick, wanted 
 if possible to stay in Boston ; expressing at the 
 same time deep concern for my dilemma, and 
 tempted to say he would go. This failing, I 
 went to tea with Miss Dabney, and told her I 
 had a good mind to take passage in the Har 
 binger, next week, and indulge myself with a 
 voyage and a recruiting visit in Fayal till the 
 autumn. The night at Craigie House. Friday, 
 an attempt upon Divinity Hall, but Wentworth 
 Higginson was engaged at Newburyport, and 
 nobody else at home. So into Boston again. 
 Dr. Parkman had arranged with Winkley, but 
 was still anxious to go for me, only for his 
 erysipelas, and the prospect of a stormy Sunday. 
 Met Weiss with a lame eye, seeking, like myself. 
 Went off to J. F. Clarke, not at home. Then 
 away down beyond Boylston Market to Fosdick, 
 but he wanted an exchange for only half a day ; 
 so I lost the enviable chance of appearing in 
 Hollis Street ! Then to J. I. T. Coolidge, who 
 was not at home ; again met Weiss, forlorn ; 
 
WEST CAMBRIDGE 79 
 
 Muzzey must be at home ; Barrett had his Com 
 munion. Finally, at three o clock I took the 
 Lowell cars for Medford, sure of Caleb Stetson ; 
 but ah ! he had promised to preach a famine 
 sermon, and so the last stay was gone, at four 
 o clock Saturday afternoon, except myself, who 
 must now needs be at home. So, through the 
 snowstorm, I took my way to West Cambridge, 
 no longer discouraged, but quite sure, now, that 
 all would come out right. 
 
 After tea I took up an old school essay (known 
 to Frank as " Metamelomai," - 1 repent), and 
 after copying the first page, launched off into 
 a new vein, and (with an interlude in the parlor), 
 at eleven o clock stopped at the end of the fourth 
 sheet, determined not to sit up any longer. The 
 sermon turned out a sort of reform discourse : 
 " Repent, the cry of the prophet of all ages." 
 I was glad to find that, in preaching, it seemed 
 quite long enough. Sunday morning came, with 
 its slush. Then the rest of " Metamelomai," 
 with a few new pages, must make the afternoon 
 sermon, more personal than the morning s. And 
 so ends this true history of a young minister s 
 travels in search of an exchange. Do communi 
 cate to Frank the final end of " Metamelomai ; " 
 it will amuse him. 
 
80 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 On the conclusion of his engagement at West 
 Cambridge, Mr. Longfellow was pressingly be 
 sought to remain as permanent pastor. But, 
 while he found it hard to do so, he adhered to his 
 resolution of postponing settlement until he had 
 had the experience of preaching in a greater 
 number of parishes. Some of the tokens of 
 regret at his departure were quite affecting ; one 
 was very handsome. " I have not written my 
 [last] sermon yet," he says to Johnson, "and 
 shall not give them any farewell. I hate scenes, 
 and am shy of emotion now. When I feel it com 
 ing on, I make myself rigid against it. I used 
 to be too sentimental. Sam, the ladies have 
 given me a beautiful gold watch as a remem 
 brance. What can I say but je reviendrai f " 
 
 In the autumn of 1847, their kind insistence 
 still troubles him. " I went to West Cambridge 
 last week and spent a day and night in making 
 visits to former friends. Sam, they want me 
 still. S. said so directly, and that they wanted 
 but a word from me to give me a call. I am 
 rather sorry. It seems not to leave me free. 
 Ought I to yield to this entreaty ? Sometimes 
 it seems so. Yet I still feel as if I might find a 
 place more truly mine. W. is staying there, and 
 is to preach one Sunday more. It is hard if 
 their regard for me prevents them doing justice 
 to others." 
 
WEST CAMBRIDGE 8 I 
 
 While he. was at West Cambridge, Mr. Long 
 fellow had received a similar earnest call to 
 Newburyport. The uncertain state of his health 
 chiefly decided him against what he felt would, 
 or should, be a laborious field. The same cause 
 led him, on leaving West Cambridge, to take an 
 interval of rest from professional work, and to 
 resort to a water-cure, then the popular nostrum. 
 But he yielded to a tempting invitation to preach 
 a few Sundays in Washington, and to enjoy its 
 balmy climate, before proceeding to Brattleboro 
 for the hydropathic treatment. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 WEST CAMBRIDGE, March 22, 1847. 
 DEAR SAM, The deed is done ! Yesterday 
 Mr. Dorr read to the Society my letter declining 
 their invitation, and saying that, on account of 
 my health, I should not think of being settled 
 anywhere at present. Sometimes I feel ashamed 
 to say anything about my health, when I think 
 how many much sicker persons than I are faith 
 fully working away in the ministry. But when I 
 think how much better I can take the time now 
 than ever again, and how much more good it will 
 do now, I feel that I have not done wrong, and 
 that in a few months I shall be able to be strongly 
 and satisfactorily at work. It certainly looks 
 
82 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 more like cool judgment than enthusiastic self- 
 devotion to God s work. Alas, Sam, that bap 
 tism has not yet come to me ! . . . The W. s, to 
 whom I had confided my determination, pleaded 
 to the last, and Mrs. W. in this touching manner. 
 I had been reading her some verses of Isabella 
 Batchelder s, called " Jesus knocketh," and the 
 next morning I found the following appended in 
 pencil : 
 
 "Jesus knocketh, when his people, 
 
 Orphaned by the hand of God, 
 
 Call thee as his faithful servant 
 
 To divide to them his word. 
 
 Jesus knocketh ; oh ! refuse not 
 
 Pastor, friend, and guide to be ; 
 
 Cheer the fainting ; win the sinner ; 
 
 Jesus waits ; He calls for thee." 
 
 I hated to resist their entreaties, but I did. 
 The W. s are still desirous that the Society shall 
 await my emergence from the Wasser-Kitr. But 
 I will not promise them to come, even then. 
 
 I have not told you of my visit to Plymouth. 
 I stayed until Tuesday morning, having a very 
 pleasant time. Finest weather ; clearest sky ; 
 bluest sea ; how it made my heart bound ! The 
 church is Gothic, under the loveliest avenue of 
 old elm-trees. Old Dr. Kendall, a kind-hearted, 
 liberal man, like Dr. Flint, had me to tea ; and 
 a mile out of town, in a sunny valley, I found 
 
WEST CAMBRIDGE 83 
 
 my pleasant, enthusiastic, transcendental farmer 
 friend, Ben Watson, living in a cottage which I 
 planned for him, and which turns out as com 
 fortable and convenient as it is pretty. He is a 
 real worker, and by and by will have a lovely 
 place ; as yet, all is to be made ; but he is one 
 who can live a good while on ideals. . . . 
 
 Plymouth is really an interesting place. You 
 are terribly disappointed in the Rock, which you 
 can scarcely see in the midst of the wharf. But 
 the upper half, which lies now in front of Pilgrim 
 Hall, I looked at with a good deal of emotion. 
 But the burial-hill and the sea ! The heads of 
 the people are full of free thought, excited on all 
 reforms. It is a great place for freedom, as it 
 should be with that sea and those recollections. 
 There is even the social freedom of going into 
 each other s houses without knocking. I fear 
 the railroad will do away with much of its primi 
 tive character before long. 
 
 R. has sent me his discourses on theology, 
 supernaturalism, etc- Quite characteristic, and 
 loosely enough stated, but containing good 
 truths, plainly told, about the relations of God, 
 man, and Jesus. He takes the ground that, 
 since Nature is God, nothing can be really super 
 natural, but only above our present knowledge 
 of Nature. Christ was profoundly natural, etc., 
 
84 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 after the fashion of the Dudleian Lecture [Dr. 
 Furness s]. This is the great thing to be taught 
 now, and I am glad R. has said it. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, May 2, 1847. 
 
 DEAR SAM, Your letter came welcome to 
 me in Washington, and you have wondered why 
 the oracle gave no response. Truly the god was 
 doing what the Jewish prophet cast into Baal s 
 worshipers teeth about him, walking, eating, 
 sleeping, going of journeys. With no great 
 business on hand at Washington, I was idly busy, 
 and had no quiet place where to write comforta 
 bly. I was there just three weeks and two days, 
 and like Washington vastly better than from 
 former experience I supposed I should. First 
 of all, meeting the spring, with its soft air and 
 green grass, and budding, blooming trees, was a 
 separate joy and delight of itself. The grounds 
 about the Capitol were my especial resort while 
 I lived near by, as I did the first week. Then, 
 after I went to the other end of the city to stay 
 at my uncle s, I used to walk among the hills 
 which " stand about " the city and lead you over 
 to Georgetown, and drink in new life, and gather 
 violets and sabbatias and saxifrages under the 
 trees, after a manner that would have made 
 
WASHINGTON 85 
 
 Margaret s and Mr. Judd s heart glad. After 
 all (it was thus I meditated as I sat on a tree- 
 root and picked the rose-colored flowers), we owe 
 much to the man who gives us feelings and 
 images that come up to us in our pleasantest 
 hours. This was apropos of Margaret s walk 
 through the woods, which came to me in those 
 pleasant Georgetown walks. Sometimes, seek 
 ing the shadow, I tried a sketch, and I will show 
 you a little picture of one pretty spot with a 
 veritable ruin in the foreground. But I did not 
 feel any better in Washington. . . . 
 
 It is the strangest place externally, full of 
 huts, hovels, and barren, gullied commons, in the 
 midst of handsome houses and grand public 
 buildings. Under that sky I felt some of the 
 real beauty of the Greek architecture. Morally, 
 the people are rather indolent than anything else, 
 I should think. I mean the permanent society, 
 but there is such a vast floating population that 
 there is no tone of general sentiment, and the 
 place is fearfully corrupt. The whole class of 
 yellow people, many of the women of which are 
 pretty, are at once victims and cause of one por 
 tion of this corruption. I did not get at much 
 about slavery. In the city the colored people 
 are mostly free, generally degraded, but have 
 schools and churches (Methodist generally). 
 
86 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 Many of them are well to do in the world and on 
 Sundays dress like Broadway exquisites. As to 
 antislavery sentiments, as far as I could see or 
 hear, it seemed to amount to this, that slavery 
 was a great inconvenience and trouble to the 
 whites and hurtful to the outward prosperity of 
 the State. " They disliked it as much as any 
 body could ; but there it was, without their fault, 
 and they did n t see how they could get rid of 
 it, but supposed by and by it would disappear. 
 They would not have the slaves set free to 
 remain among them, idle and vicious as they 
 were ; the North might take them, since it had 
 such a fondness for them ; at any rate, if we were 
 sincere in our desire to set them free, we had 
 better put our hands into our pockets and remu 
 nerate their masters, etc., etc." This was the 
 amount of what I could gather amid the many 
 inconsistent and contradictory views of those 
 with whom I talked about it. The main difficulty 
 is that the moral idea is scarcely thought of. 
 Nobody feels that it is wrong, but only an incon 
 venience and economically a bad system. It may 
 be the business of the Northern abolitionists to 
 give them this moral idea, though they have 
 been slow to take it, and never may. While I 
 was coming on, I was much exercised" as to 
 whether I should or should not preach about the 
 
WASHINGTON 87 
 
 matter. Feeling sick and nervous and unable to 
 write, I doubted whether I could say anything 
 worth while ; then came up doubts of the purity 
 of my motives ; whether I should n t be doing it 
 from vanity, or a spirit of bravado ; then, whether 
 my words would be wise and calm enough, phy 
 sically out of order as I felt, and so on. Then, 
 two successive weeks, I had to attend funerals, 
 and hated to meet the mourners with a reform 
 sermon, and so it came to the last service, and 
 I had said nothing directly about the matter. 
 Then I said, It will never do ; and I sat down 
 before going into church and hastily wrote two 
 pages about the war and two about slavery, such 
 as they were, and went into church, taking the 
 sermon called " Repent, the cry of the prophet," 
 read " Cry aloud, spare not," etc., from Isaiah, 
 and then preached. What I said about slavery 
 was very calm and not the least in the " spare 
 not " vein, only urging that if they saw this 
 thing to be an evil, as they profess, they ought 
 not to be indifferent or to acquiesce in it ; nor 
 to be content with deploring it ; but in earnest 
 to do something, or begin to do something, to 
 remove it. That the way of duty was clear ; 
 that God would give unexpected help in the way 
 of right, and that the difficulties would vanish 
 before faith and a sincere purpose. That each 
 
88 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 should do what he could, feel, speak, plan, or 
 execute as God had given power. This was what 
 I said, encouraging rather than denouncing, and 
 all brief and hasty. Sam, they took it beauti 
 fully ; nobody went out, and some stopped to say 
 good-by to me at the door. 
 
 The next day I did not learn that anybody 
 was offended except some Northern people. Mr. 
 Abbott said, Sunday evening, that he had always 
 told the people that there was little use in hav 
 ing a pulpit unless it was to be free on this as on 
 all subjects. Still, I doubt whether they would 
 settle a known abolitionist. 
 
 I am here in Philadelphia spending a rainy 
 Sunday. I stayed to hear Furness. It was rather 
 too intellectual a sermon, but he said some ex 
 cellent things. . . . Think of these horrid people 
 illuminating, as they did here and in Baltimore 
 and Washington, for the Mexican barbarities ! I 
 felt more indignant about that than about slavery. 
 And these miserable Whigs now taking advan 
 tage of Taylor s corrupt popularity to ride into 
 power, after all they have said about the war. 
 Dr. Dewey preached a fine sermon at Washing 
 ton about political moraiity, which was good 
 enough to give offense to the politicians. 
 
BRATTLEBORO 89 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 BRATTLEBORO , May 20, 1847. 
 
 DEAR SAM, I am having a very pleasant 
 time here ; but between walking and watering 
 have little leisure to write. . . . Having been 
 waked, nearly an hour before, by the tramping of 
 people past my door to their baths, I am invaded 
 by a German Heinrich, who takes my bathing- 
 sheet, and swathing myself in a blanket like an 
 Indian chief, I follow him into the bathroom, 
 where I sit down in a long tub and have water 
 poured over me, and am rubbed for a time ; then 
 dried on said sheet, bandaged, and dismissed to 
 dress and walk half or three quarters of an hour 
 before breakfast, generally taking the "circle," 
 as it is called, across the brook and round by the 
 D. s, where I stop under the trees and drink a 
 couple of tumblers of water. After breakfast, 
 walking again, rambling, exploring, stopping, 
 alone or in company. Sam, there are the love 
 liest places you ever saw, to search after and 
 enjoy; ravines, hills, wood-paths, cascades, green 
 meadows. So till eleven o clock, when I again 
 resort to the bathroom and sit down in a tub of 
 cold water, clothed in the aforesaid blanket ; and 
 when we get a number together along the sides 
 of the room, it is wonderfully suggestive of an 
 
90 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 Indian council or pow-wow. Bandages renewed, 
 and then a walk again to " get up a reaction," 
 that is, to prevent being chilly. This brings 
 me to dinner with a ravenous appetite. After 
 dinner, lounging, talking, music, battledore for 
 a while, or reading and writing, perhaps a siesta 
 till four or five ; then, after another sitz-bath, a 
 walk of an hour till tea. After tea, walk, stroll, 
 read newspapers, play, sing ; perhaps there is 
 dancing in the saloon, or other family amuse 
 ments. ... So much for my life here. I write 
 with my body swathed in moist linen bandages, 
 which impart a constant, not disagreeable sense 
 of coolness and moisture. 
 
 Of Furness and the Dudleian lecture, what 
 a pity you should n t have been there ! Well, 
 you shall read it. He said we must not look 
 out of Christianity for natural religion, but into 
 it. It was the only natural religion, what man 
 was made for and must come to. Christ was 
 not apart from Nature, but a part of Nature, his 
 miracles and all. The common view of miracles 
 was low and narrow, he said. There were some 
 very eloquent episodes ; one about childhood. 
 One or two strong sentences about the war and 
 slavery ; too short for anybody to go out, even a 
 law-student. The only difficulty, I thought, was 
 that the idea, a new one to many, though old to 
 
BRA TTLEBORO* 9 1 
 
 Furness (and you and me), was not brought out 
 with quite sufficient distinctness, especially for 
 those who were not familiar with Furness s writ 
 ings. The fact is, it was the very ground taken 
 in Parker s sermon, so far forth as this, that 
 Christ did not create the truths he uttered, 
 but saw and stated eternal truths ; which seems 
 obvious enough, but is not commonly recognized. 
 Some people were enthusiastic ; others praised 
 cautiously ; others thought it novel and rather 
 dangerous, and so, I fear, he is too much of a 
 heretic for the Hollis Professorship. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 BRATTLEBORO , June 12, 1847. 
 
 DEAR SAM, Here are some hymns I got 
 from the " Christian Lyre." These Methodist and 
 Baptist people s "second coming" hymns make 
 grand reform ones. But how meagre their idea 
 of the meaning is ; a personal salvation, while 
 the world (which Christ came to save) all goes 
 to red-hot destruction. But the churches are 
 waking up, Sam, all about. The "New England 
 Conference" (I don t know of what sect it is) 
 has passed some strong resolutions and state 
 ments against slavery, and the Methodists of 
 Accomack County, Virginia, came out so strongly, 
 not long since, that a public indignation meeting 
 
92 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 was called to see that the republic received no 
 detriment. The leaven is at work. Charles 
 Sumner has sent me his " White Slavery in the 
 Barbary States," interesting historically and a 
 sort of covert argumentum ad hominem, all along, 
 to our slaveholders and slavery-excusers. The 
 parallel is ingeniously suggested and sometimes 
 applied. All helps, plain words and parables. 
 But, Sam, no peace yet! Well, we will be 
 patient, be "partners of Christ s patience." 
 Is n t that a fine phrase ? . . . 
 
 As to , Sam, I don t know ; we will talk 
 
 about it. 
 
 " Where love is absent, works are found 
 As tinkling brass, an empty sound." 
 
 I do not love them. If it were marriage, that 
 would be enough. (I am now entirely versed in 
 all the mysteries and responsibilities of love and 
 matrimony, having just finished Harriet Mar- 
 tineau s love-novel " Deerbrook.") I am enjoying 
 myself very much, but do not feel much effect 
 from the waters yet. Sam, not one of the baths 
 is so violent or disagreeable as a blister, the 
 commonest resort of allopathy. Our life is easy 
 and social, quite like a Phalanstery, I sometimes 
 think ; stated baths being substituted in place of 
 labors. 
 
BRATTLEBORO" 93 
 
 So, Sam, you must come. I long for you not 
 exactly in a thirsty land, but in a beautiful one, 
 flowing with milk and water, spiritually thirsty, 
 perhaps. But " I live in the outward now ; " I 
 am only sorry that I don t feel myself getting 
 well, stronger, and less nervous. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 BRATTLEBORO BATHING-TUB, July 5, 1847. 
 
 DEAR SAM, ... You see I am still among 
 the mountains and the springs. Not finding so 
 speedy benefit as I had hoped, and not finding so 
 hot weather as I feared, I have concluded to stay 
 a little longer. . . . The first of August I mean 
 to go to Portland. And, Sam, I must have a 
 visit from you there. . . . And there, in the 
 old house and in the little upper room, scene of 
 many boyish dreams and hopes and conflicts and 
 visions, we will put in order the new hymn- 
 book [second edition]. . . . 
 
 I was in Maclntire s pulpit yesterday, and it 
 being Fourth of July, could not but give them a 
 page or two on the war and slavery. They will 
 be quite ready for you ! . . . Your words give 
 me strength. 
 
94 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 PORTLAND, August 7, 1847. 
 
 DEAR SAM, You see I have bidden adieu 
 to Bathing-Tubs, mountains, and springs, and 
 descended to the level of the sea. It has rained 
 ever since I have been here, almost, and so, cut 
 off from my baths and my walks at once, I don t 
 feel quite so well for the change ; but I shall get 
 into the sea as soon as practicable. . . . 
 
 I preached at Brattleboro , Sunday, on the Suf 
 ferings of Christ. In the afternoon, William 
 Channing on Patience. It was a beautiful ser 
 mon, not quite so eloquent as I expected. The 
 theme and occasion were not such as to rouse 
 him, I suppose. He wove it upon my morning s 
 sermon, beginning, "Our thoughts were this 
 morning turned to the consideration of the suffer 
 ings of Christ. He was presented to us as a 
 man. There are two other views held by Chris 
 tians ; one which regards him as the Incarnate 
 God, and one which considers him as a mediator. 
 But looking at the sufferings of the man, what is 
 so beautifully conspicuous through all as his pa 
 tience," and so on. 
 
 So you see, Sam, mine is a " humanitarian " 
 sermon everywhere. Channing is not satisfied 
 with this view, with the view presented in Fur- 
 
PORTLAND 95 
 
 ness s Dudleian. Regarding not so much the 
 individual but the race, the man, or Humanity, 
 he says this aggregate man must have some 
 Head, and Christ is this. That is not very clear 
 to me, as I told him ; when he went on to say 
 that as in progressive series we see first inani 
 mate nature, then living things, then man, always 
 rising upward towards God ; there must, at last, 
 be some link in the chain which will come next 
 to God, and directly communicate life from Him 
 to, and so through, the rest to the lowermost. 
 Christ is this link ; in other words, he is the 
 Mediator. Many things suggested themselves 
 after this statement, but I had not a chance to 
 talk with him farther. He shocked some people 
 by introducing and dwelling upon the idea that 
 God suffers with men ; that He could not be the 
 Father if He did not ; if He did not feel pain in 
 view of all this evil and suffering. But, Sam, I 
 think of Him as seeing, through all, the great 
 Light and Glory, seeing all the clouds float into 
 light. I cannot receive that idea, at least in the 
 common meaning of suffering. But how lan 
 guage fails in trying to speak of God ! 
 
96 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 PORTLAND, September n, 1847. - 
 
 DEAR SAM, ... I have lingered here longer 
 than I meant to ; but now, resisting all entice 
 ment of cheap boats and sleepless, poisonous 
 nights on board, I shall take the cars Wednes 
 day morning, and on reaching Newburyport shall 
 go at once to the church to help ordain Went- 
 worth [Higginson]. Dr. Nichols goes with some 
 reluctance, not approving of no-council innova 
 tions. Said he would n t go but for Wentworth, 
 or some other particular friend, thus leaving a 
 corner open for me, you see. He has never said 
 a word to me about your sermons. L. thinks he 
 was a little frightened, and that his next sermon 
 was meant as an antidote. There is much talk 
 about you, though ; several much delighted and 
 interested. One lady asked me if you were a 
 Deist, seeing you did n t speak of Christ through 
 the whole service ! Strange that Deist, i. e., 
 Godist, should be thought a bad thing or name ! 
 I, however, enlightened her. I have worked 
 over those hymn-book manuscripts, copying 
 hymns, etc., almost every day. ... I have made 
 some beautiful chants from the Apocrypha, 
 Deistic wretch that I am ! I have found in a 
 paper a good temperance hymn. 
 
WEST CAMBRIDGE 97 
 
 After his stay at the water cure, Mr. Long 
 fellow resumed candidating. One of the places 
 he visited, a beautiful rural city of central New 
 England, in which dwelt a peculiarly refined and 
 cultivated society, attracted him greatly, and it 
 was, perhaps, a real loss to both the people and 
 the minister that (as Colonel Higginson writes) 
 " The parish was tardy, and their invitation did 
 not come until after he had accepted a call to 
 Fall River. He wrote to me, with real feeling, 
 about it, and said, If ever a man felt drawn to a 
 
 place, that man was I, and that place was . 
 
 Then he admitted the comparative barrenness 
 of Fall River (at that time a new manufacturing 
 town), and ended, But Mount Hope shines fair 
 in the distance, and I am content. This was a 
 type of his life ; for him, Mount Hope always 
 shone in the distance, as fair as the actual moun 
 tain from Fall River." 
 
VI 
 
 FALL RIVER 
 
 MR. LONGFELLOW S first pastorate was assumed 
 under a genuine impression of duty. Perhaps it 
 is not always best that inscrutable personal lean 
 ings should be rigidly controlled. 
 
 TO EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, November 21, 1847. 
 
 DEAR EDWARD, ... I have just had a con 
 versation with Ephraim Peabody [then Rector 
 of King s Chapel], a sort of " charge " from him, 
 which I like much better thus in private than in 
 the usual public way. He has inspired me to 
 take some great plans or ideas into my head, and 
 sacrificing romance and hopes of sympathy and 
 of the enjoyments of cultivated social intercourse, 
 to go straight to Fall River and make the church 
 over, or build up its growth after my own ideas. 
 . . . My own impression of the place has been 
 that, as a new, busy, and growing one, it was a 
 good place for action and influence ; that a man 
 must go there willing to depend upon himself for 
 
FALL RIVER 99 
 
 impulse, except so far as he should find it from 
 distinctly seeing the needs of the people, and 
 desiring to meet them. The town is beautifully 
 situated, but new and crude, in itself offering 
 little to gratify the aesthetic taste ; the people, 
 occupied in " business," having little time for 
 social intercourse or culture, but kindly and ready 
 to be influenced. A place, as yet, not crystal 
 lized ; increasing by a thousand or so a year in 
 population, where a man of sufficient force might 
 impress himself as far as he chose, and give 
 his own " color to the alum-basket." All this 
 attracts me, and I am on the point of writing 
 a letter of acceptance ; when up rises a vision of 
 forlornness and barrenness, and I pause. 
 
 This conversation with Peabody has done more 
 than any one thing to make me say I will go, 
 turning my back on doubts, but whether an hour 
 hence will not find them fully alive, I know not. 
 The people seem liberally disposed. The spokes 
 man of the committee, an intelligent man, and of 
 influence there, writes me that they won t care 
 a fig about having an ordaining council ; ... of 
 his own accord he proposed to me that I should 
 suggest to the Society that I should preach but 
 one sermon a week, having a devotional service 
 or Sunday-school on the other half-day. 
 
IOO SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 FALL RIVER, November 29, 1847. 
 
 DEAR SAM, Behold me here ! Not yet set 
 tled, but in imminent peril of being. The week 
 before Thanksgiving, a gentleman wrote to me 
 that I was sent for from Fall River, and for three 
 Sundays ; I told him I would go for two, but 
 would n t engage farther ; so I came down here 
 on the 2Oth, and spent a dark, lowering Sun 
 day, thinking Fall River the most dismal place, 
 almost, I was ever in. Monday morning I was 
 off at daylight, and on Saturday came again. 
 The sun shone out a little, and things looked 
 altogether more attractive. The committee had 
 begged me to come prepared to spend the week. 
 ... I am astonished to find that I can look with 
 any complacency upon the place, so forlorn did it 
 seem to me at first, including the church, which 
 John Ware thinks so beautiful, and which I dis 
 like as much. Well, last night, I being at tea 
 with one of the congregation, Mr. B. entered and 
 informed me that at the meeting of the Society 
 after church services, a strong desire had been 
 manifested to give me a call ! I was taken by 
 surprise. I told him that my wish had been not 
 to be settled till the spring, though I wanted to 
 preach during the winter. He said that they 
 
FALL RIVER IOI 
 
 wished to ascertain whether I was in a condition 
 to accept a call, and that a committee would 
 confer with me, etc. ... A week ago, I should 
 have been ready to say, "No," at once; now I 
 am surprised at myself that I do not say it, 
 but I do not. 
 
 Sam, there are many new societies springing 
 up which one would like to look at first. They 
 look upon this as a new society, however. It 
 certainly needs building up from the present 
 handful. Am I the man, and is this my place ? 
 I am inclined to think I ought to be in a town, 
 but why need I trouble you with my pro s 
 and con s ? Perhaps you do not know . . . how 
 much such a matter as this harasses me. . . . 
 
 Sam, I believe it is the bay which has charmed 
 me ; I know not what else ! 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 BOSTON, December 11, 1847. 
 
 DEAR SAM, ... Of Fall River. I have more 
 than half a mind to go there. I see that I must 
 lay aside all aesthetic and romantic dreams, the 
 ideal church and other ideals, for a long while at 
 least, if I go. Must give up things that I am 
 right in valuing. . . . On the other hand, I see it 
 is a centre of influence ; it is not yet crystallized, 
 is free to be moulded. I think I could do there as 
 
IO2 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 I wish, so soon as they have become acquainted 
 with me. I saw some kind-hearted men and 
 women. Last Sunday morning I preached my 
 "Coming to Christ." I threw in an extempore 
 paragraph on the absurdity of denying the Chris 
 tian name to men who did n t believe the mir 
 acles, that they might understand my theological 
 position. B. walked home with me ; liked the 
 sermon very much. Yesterday came a note from 
 him saying that, being very desirous of pursuing 
 the study of Christ s life, he had determined, if I 
 should come to Fall River, to devote five hundred 
 dollars, in the course of three or five years, to 
 the purchase of books under my direction that 
 might help in the investigation. Now, I must 
 say that one man so interested as that would be 
 worth much to any minister. 
 
 At the hotel, I saw several young men (and 
 there must be plenty in the town) whom I 
 thought I could bring into my church. I was 
 sorry that I could not see more of the people ; 
 but, as I said, they did n t come near me. Busy 
 all day and tired at night, I suppose. . . . The 
 most interesting thing I saw was an evening 
 school (free) for young men over sixteen, working- 
 men, you know, boys from the country and the 
 like. 
 
FALL RIVER 1 03 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, December, 1847. 
 
 DEAR SAM, ... The die is cast, the cup 
 taken ! Saturday I sent my letter of acceptance 
 to Fall River, resisting the allurements of an 
 invitation to preach in the Church of the Mes 
 siah, New York, and an appealing letter from 
 Albany. I wrote two letters, . . . one to the 
 committee containing business matters, such 
 as the congregational ordination ; one sermon a 
 week ; new hymn-book ; vacation. And the other 
 to the Society, to be read after the first should 
 be satisfactorily arranged, containing matters 
 of sentiment, anti-sectism, freedom of speech, 
 reform, etc. I hope that I may have a hymn 
 from you for the ordination, and shall keep a 
 place open. 
 
 TO EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 PORTLAND, January 31, 1848. 
 
 DEAR EDWARD, I ought not to have let the 
 newspapers be the first to tell you of my wedding- 
 day with the bride, the church of Fall River. . . . 
 There is to be no council. I am disappointed 
 that Dr. Nichols will not be present to lay his 
 hand upon my head and give his paternal bless 
 ing ; but he hates to leave home, especially in 
 
IO4 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 winter, and, I doubt not, has a lurking objection 
 to taking part in such unconciliatory measures as 
 I have suggested. So I have asked Ephraim 
 Peabody, who is apostolical and friendly, and 
 indifferent to councils, and for whom I preached 
 the other day in Boston. 
 
 The ordination and installation took place upon 
 the 1 6th of February, 1848. Charles H. Brig- 
 ham, of Taunton, offered the introductory prayer. 
 John Weiss, of New Bedford, preached a pow 
 erful and striking sermon, on " The Modern 
 Pulpit." Dr. Convers Francis, of the Divinity 
 School, offered the ordaining prayer and gave 
 the charge ; George Ware Briggs, a former pas 
 tor, then of Plymouth, delivered the address to 
 the people, and John F. W. Ware, more recently 
 pastor of the Society, extended to his successor 
 the right hand of fellowship. Edward Everett 
 Hale read from the Scriptures. The first hymn 
 sung was by the new pastor, and Henry W. 
 Longfellow wrote for his brother that altogether 
 perfect one, beginning 
 
 " Christ to the young man said : Yet one thing more, 
 If thou wouldst perfect be/ " 
 
 Of the service, and its effect upon his own 
 feelings, Mr. Longfellow wrote to Mr. Johnson, 
 " I rejoice that the ordination services so much 
 
FALL RIVER 1 05 
 
 impressed you. The only want I felt was of 
 something more of a devotional tone to meet my 
 oivn feelings at the time. The prayer was almost 
 the least moving thing to me, of all ; but during 
 the whole of it, that line of Henry Ware s hymn 
 ran in my mind, Sin, sloth, and self abjured 
 before the altar, which, indeed, contains all that 
 could be said. The right hand was the most 
 interesting part to me. I could not give to the 
 sermon the close attention it needed, but I felt 
 it was an admirable statement of what so much 
 needed to be said distinctly now." 
 
 The exercises were printed, and he says to 
 Hale, " I write this note that I may put it into the 
 post, together with a copy of the sermon, which 
 please accept with all those friendly regards 
 which I dared not put upon its front. If, from a 
 pure love of the place of your adoption, you get 
 your ordination sermon printed at a provincial 
 press, you subject yourself to some delay, and 
 get a provincial-looking pamphlet, after all. Still, 
 civitatis regiminc donatns though you are, I trust 
 you will look with complacency upon these some 
 what dim pages, and let some memories of the 
 occasion shine through them. Weiss has added 
 a page or two, to give more completeness to his 
 statement. He loses something in the reading. 
 His face, and the quaintness of his voice and 
 
106 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 manner, so precisely fitted to his style, and so 
 entirely the complement of his words, are want 
 ing. Yet they are readily summoned by one who 
 heard them." 
 
 Samuel Longfellow had now fully entered upon 
 real life. He had matured slowly, but was com 
 ing into full possession of his powers and un 
 derstanding of himself. He was twenty -nine 
 years of age ; thoroughly educated, both gener 
 ally and professionally ; of rare personal culture 
 and delicate traits of mind, which adorned with 
 out weakening the firm moral substance of his 
 manhood. " He was a difficult person to deline 
 ate," writes Colonel Higginson, " from the very 
 simplicity and perfect poise of his character. He 
 was, in the old phrase, a very perfit gentil knight. 
 He had no exceptional or salient points, but an 
 evenness of disposition which, from boyhood on 
 ward, kept him not only from the lower temp 
 tations, but the higher ones. This was true of 
 him when I knew him in college, and true at 
 every later period. One could not, for a moment, 
 imagine him vexed, or petty, or ungenerous. Few 
 men have led a life of such unbroken calm and 
 cheerfulness. At the same time, he was equal, 
 in strength of character, to any emergency, and 
 would have borne himself firmly upon the rack 
 when more boisterous men failed. . He went 
 
FALL RIVER 1 07 
 
 about your room, as a lady once said, < murmur 
 ing little charities ; for every book, every pic 
 ture, he had a word of kindly apology, making 
 the best of it ; but he had his own standard of 
 right, and adhered to it with utter fearlessness. 
 He did not strive, nor cry, nor did any man hear 
 his voice in the streets ; but on any question 
 requiring courage, he held the courageous side." 
 Another classmate in the Divinity School 1 
 writes of him, as he knew him at that period : 
 " He was singularly quiet and undemonstrative. 
 He made no professions of friendship, no dis 
 play of knowledge, never argued or dwelt on 
 differences of opinion, uttered no uncharitable 
 imputations. Himself the soul of sincerity and 
 truth-loving, he seemed to assume that all were 
 similarly disposed. At first, he appeared to me 
 utterly oblivious of the darker sides of human 
 character, as if he did not recognize that there 
 was any such thing as sin in the world, or any 
 occasion for a struggle against evil in our own 
 souls. This, I found afterwards, was my own 
 mistake. It came from his disposition always 
 to look upon the bright side, both in his esti 
 mate of others and in his own experience. By 
 his clear, optimistic faith, he discerned, beyond 
 the struggle, the final victory and peace. I felt 
 1 The Rev. Ephraim Nute. 
 
108 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 deeply his superiority of character, his Christ- 
 like spirit. Among the advantages of the school, 
 I esteemed his influence one of the richest. 
 There was a nameless calm, a gentleness min 
 gled with earnestness and strength, a fine poetic 
 spirit. He filled a large place in my remem 
 brance as one to whom I owe much which yet I 
 cannot clearly define." 
 
 As he began his Fall River pastorate, Mr. 
 Longfellow s health was still unsatisfactory, al 
 though improved by the rest he had enjoyed dur 
 ing the previous summer. He was consciously 
 accepting a difficult post of service, but one to 
 which he felt generously challenged. 
 
 In his opinions he had reached substan 
 tially, although he had not yet fully explored it, 
 the religious position which characterized him 
 throughout coming years. While, up to this 
 time, he retained much of the phraseology and 
 peculiar sentiments of Christianity, he was al 
 ready, like Theodore Parker (to use the term 
 now gaining currency), a "Theist," in that, in 
 his religious life, his devout sentiments and aspi 
 rations, he admitted no mediator between him 
 self and the Divine Spirit. He conducted his 
 religious work under the spiritual leadership of 
 Jesus, crediting his miracles and resurrection, 
 and recognizing in him qualities highly excep- 
 
FALL RIVER 1 09 
 
 tional. Yet he interpreted the endowments of 
 Jesus in accordance with a strictly humanita 
 rian view, on the naturalistic principles which 
 Furness was now urging with so much force and 
 attractiveness. He was poetical rather than 
 mystical in temperament ; an intuitionalist in his 
 philosophy ; a transcendentalist in his thought 
 of the relation of man to God, to himself, and to 
 the facts of being. 
 
 But the ethical element was always the deep 
 est of all in Samuel Longfellow, and was becom 
 ing prominent in his thought, his preaching, and 
 his views of professional duty. To the reforms 
 of the day, especially the antislavery reform, he 
 was giving an ardent sympathy and increasing 
 attention. The "funnier things yet" which, a 
 few years before, he had expected to see, were 
 now the grave subjects of his most earnest 
 thought and sense of duty. In political affairs, 
 at this time so agitated and ominous, he took 
 the eager and serious interest of a patriot and a 
 moralist, hesitating never to refer to them, in 
 his mild but emphatic and persuasive way, in 
 his Sunday discourses. 
 
 As a parish minister, Mr. Longfellow s forte 
 was always in the close personal relations he 
 knew how to establish between himself and his 
 people. As he had foretold, his power in the 
 
110 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 pulpit lay in reaching individual hearts with 
 truth, more than dealing with abstruse and diffi 
 cult questions of philosophy and theology. Or, 
 rather, the former was the aim he peculiarly cher 
 ished in all parts of his ministry. He had a sin 
 gular gift of " understanding " others, their trials, 
 perplexities, and cares, their moral struggles 
 and spiritual wants ; and the art of helping and 
 cheering them by kindly, wise suggestions and 
 delicate attentions. Both men and women were 
 drawn to him by a power of which they could 
 hardly explain the charm. For children he had 
 always an especial love and care, and won their 
 affections as he did those of their elders. Their 
 love for him was instinctive ; they trusted him, 
 and clustered about him, by a natural impulse 
 which it scarcely required words for him to ex 
 cite. His gentle manners, grave but genial, his 
 pleasant humor, the quickness of his sympathies 
 on all sides, the transparency of his religious 
 emotions and moral instincts, the quiet wisdom 
 of his practical thought, won the confidence of 
 growing youth, of the sorrowing, the doubting, 
 the troubled in mind, and prepared them to 
 accept inspiration, guidance, or comfort. The 
 absolute truthfulness of his character took from 
 all his ministrations among his people the profes 
 sional air, and made them the affectionate expres- 
 
FALL RIVER III 
 
 sions of trusty friendship. Old observances be 
 came instinct with fresh reality and significance. 
 He could not be restricted in his sympathies or 
 services to the limits of his parish, but, much 
 more a man and citizen than a minister, he over 
 flowed in good works to all about him whom in 
 any way he could reach. 
 
 The obstacles to his full success in his chosen 
 calling were poor health, and a sensitiveness of 
 which it was partly the cause, and which was 
 doubtless excessive. The former impaired his 
 energy ; the latter caused him to undervalue the 
 services he rendered to those about him. His 
 instinct of spontaneity made formality impossible 
 to him, and custom irksome. A growing indi 
 vidualism, which he shared with Weiss, Frothing- 
 ham, Higginson, and others of the brightest minds 
 of the day, was weakening his sympathy with the 
 majority of the Unitarians and the organized 
 work of the body. A highly aesthetic tempera 
 ment created wants which were imperious, but, 
 in the prosaic life of New England fifty years 
 ago, not easily satisfied. His conscience often 
 reproved what was wholly constitutional and a 
 necessity of his being. 
 
 Few situations are less inspiring than that of 
 a clergyman settled in a small community given 
 up to material interests ; over a church feeble 
 
112 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 in numbers and spiritual life, in which the atten 
 tion of the members who really care for its 
 welfare is absorbed in filling the seats and collect 
 ing ever-insufficient dues. In such a position a 
 man needs not only fervor of purpose, but a deep 
 insight and much practical wisdom, to discern his 
 opportunity and its rewards. 
 
 Mr. Longfellow began his work at Fall River, 
 as was intimated above, in a spirit of earnestness 
 which was better than enthusiasm, and with as 
 clear a comprehension as was perhaps possible, 
 to a neophyte, of its difficult conditions. But 
 when the excitement of installation in his new 
 post had subsided ; before he had formed organic 
 relations with the life of the community, or had 
 become acquainted with his people ; condemned 
 to live at a wretched country hotel, to eat his 
 solitary meals in a bustling dining-room ; scarcely 
 meeting his parishioners except at church, and 
 expected to produce two discourses each week, 
 our young minister, at first, found the situation 
 dreary. He discovered a few congenial women ; 
 among men, the only one who supplied to him 
 that near companionship which was so needful 
 to him was a " transcendental music-teacher, who 
 has some good ideas and a deep, true feeling for 
 his art." The poverty of suggestion in his con 
 ditions, out of which sermons could not flow and 
 
FALL RIVER 113 
 
 could with difficulty be squeezed, his conscien 
 tious mind too willingly interpreted as " spiritual 
 deadness " in himself. He needed philanthropic 
 activities, the sphere of which he could not im 
 mediately find amid a prosperous, self-sufficient, 
 busy population. To the prescriptive duties pf 
 his post he gave himself faithfully, already char 
 acteristically trying to make all religious occa 
 sions genuine and freshly significant. His first 
 communion - service was an occasion of much 
 moment to him. He wrote to his friend Hale 
 for suggestions as to its mode, and reported its 
 celebration both to him and to Johnson, and 
 especially in a thoughtful, affectionate letter to 
 his mother, whose heart would naturally be 
 deeply with her son on an occasion which, in 
 those days, was felt to be of so much importance 
 and significance. 
 
 TO EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 FALL RIVER, March i, 1848. 
 
 DEAR EDWARD, On next Sunday is my first 
 communion. My wish is to have it open to all, 
 and if possible to have the whole congregation 
 remain, even if they do not all partake of the 
 bread and wine. I think this is your plan. Will 
 you tell me how you arranged it, whether you 
 sent the bread and wine to all, or whether you 
 
114 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 asked those who wished to partake to come up to 
 the table and receive them ? I like the last plan 
 the best, if the people will not feel shy about it. 
 
 . . . I, the solitary, am not yet " set in a fam 
 ily." For the time, it is more convenient, if not 
 so pleasant, for me to remain here at the hotel. I 
 hope by and by to find some pleasant house where 
 I can have a sight of the bay. There is as lovely 
 a water-view as you will easily find, short of the 
 actual ocean. Failing of this, I think I shall fall 
 back on my pastoral right to a home in the par 
 sonage, which has passed into the hands of a 
 member of the society. It is in a quiet shady 
 nook and very inviting, save in being cut off from 
 the sight of the water. 
 
 I am not exactly the solitary, though of course 
 companionless. Three little families of my flock 
 live in this house, and among them at least one 
 intelligent and sympathetic woman. The peo 
 ple are not very demonstrative, or vocative. It 
 strikes one oddly to find that nobody seems to 
 have been here above a few years. You ask 
 some questions about the place and are answered, 
 " Oh ! I came here only six months ago," or, "We 
 moved here last year," or, "When we came 
 here, some three or five years since," and so on. 
 There are no aborigines, evidently, since the 
 skeleton in armor was burnt. And they all unite 
 
FALL RIVER I I 5 
 
 in abusing the place and saying how unsocial it 
 is, whereas if all these agreeable people would 
 but come together once or twice a week they 
 might have the pleasantest society. The town, 
 under this spring sun, appears to me altogether 
 fairer than when I saw it in December. I find 
 too, already, more of cultivation than I expected, 
 at least among the women. It is harder for 
 me to get at the men, who are never at home. 
 I have been in very good spirits, bating some 
 dyspepsia. Before long we must explore the 
 shortest road between Worcester and here. . . . 
 Write as soon as you can and often to the 
 Bishop of Fall River, SAM L ^ F. R. 
 
 TO HIS MOTHER. 
 
 MOUNT HOPE, March 7, 1848. 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, I think you will be in 
 terested to hear of my first communion ; so I 
 shall delay my pastoral visits this afternoon till 
 I have written you a brief account of Sunday s 
 service. 
 
 I learned that the number of communicants was 
 small, though the invitation had been always 
 extended to all. The service was appointed for the 
 afternoon, as there is always the largest attendance 
 in that part of the day. In the morning I preached 
 a sermon, giving my views upon the commu- 
 
Il6 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 nion ; that it was one of the ministrations of 
 religion which should be open to all with entire 
 freedom ; and that all should feel at liberty to 
 unite in it ; that it should be a simple, cheerful 
 commemoration of Christ, from which all feeling 
 of dread should be banished ; that no one need 
 shrink from coming to the table of him whose 
 love was toward all men, and who ate with pub 
 licans and sinners, any more than he need shrink 
 from approaching in prayer the All Holy Father. 
 I dwelt somewhat upon these points, endeavor 
 ing to remove the unfounded and injurious feeling 
 of awe and mystery which, to many minds, veils 
 this rite, and I closed by saying that I should 
 invite all to unite with us, who should feel at the 
 time a desire to do so, whether they had ever 
 before or not, and whether they would ever again 
 or not ; that some might find satisfaction in par 
 taking of the bread and wine, and others be 
 best helped by joining in spirit in the prayers, 
 the meditations, the associations of the time. I 
 wished first and most of all to impress a sense of 
 perfect freedom ; thinking this essential to open 
 the way to a spiritual understanding and recep 
 tion of the rite. In the afternoon, the whole 
 service hymns, scripture, and prayer was 
 made a remembrance of Jesus. I preached my. 
 sermon on the sufferings of Christ, closing it with 
 
FALL RIVER 1 1/ 
 
 a reference to the communion and a repetition of 
 my desire that all should feel at liberty and wel 
 come to unite with us. Then I gave a benedic 
 tion, and after a pause of a few minutes, that any 
 might have an opportunity to retire who wished, 
 I came down to the table. Not a person left the 
 house. I made a short extempore address, apply 
 ing more particularly the sentiment of the sermon, 
 and then a prayer. Then, breaking the bread, with 
 the usual words, I took it from the table and car 
 ried it myself to each pew, offering it to all, and 
 the same with the wine, repeating at intervals 
 appropriate sentences from the Scriptures. Only 
 a few partook of the elements, perhaps none who 
 had not been accustomed to do so. We then 
 united in a silent prayer, followed by the Lord s 
 Prayer and the benediction. 
 
 The only thing that was not entirely pleasant 
 to me was the feeling that those who did not 
 partake of the elements might feel an embar 
 rassment at refusing what yet they did not feel 
 quite prepared to receive, and it would have 
 been pleasanter, certainly to me, if all or nearly 
 all had partaken of the bread and wine. I think 
 that if they continue to remain, more and more 
 will gradually do so. 
 
 I liked very much the distributing the elements 
 myself rather than by deacons ; it is simpler and 
 
Il8 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 less sacerdotal and official. It brought me nearer 
 to my people. It seems, too, to be carrying out 
 the spirit of the chapter which I had read, where 
 Jesus washes his disciples feet, and says that he 
 came not to be ministered unto but to minister. 
 It was suggested to me by Mr. Ware. I felt the 
 more encouraged to hope that all would remain, 
 from Edward Hale s having told me that they did 
 so from the first in his church. I have been glad 
 to find from several who have since spoken to 
 me that the service was generally felt to be very 
 interesting. I suspect the only way to induce 
 all the congregation to remain is to make the 
 communion a part of the service of the day, and 
 not a separate service, as is usual. 
 
 It is some time since I heard from home. I 
 am well, except some dyspeptic symptoms, and 
 very contented and comfortable. I have called 
 upon about half the families of the parish, but 
 I have to go alone, and I find only the women 
 at home, the husbands being at the shops, day 
 and evening; but I see some of them there. 
 Almost every house holds two families, one up 
 stairs and one below, a mode of division which is 
 a peculiarity of the place, I think. But if the 
 house is square, it is made to accommodate three 
 or four families. Rather too compact stowage, I 
 think, but the families are mostly small. 
 
FALL RIVER 1 19 
 
 Notwithstanding the importance which the 
 young minister seemed, naturally, to attach to 
 the celebration of the communion, we can discern 
 in the last letter that his deepest interest was, 
 really, in giving new life, and especially the spirit 
 of freedom, to the ancient rite. And a scruple, 
 which with his maturing thought ultimately be 
 came controlling, significantly makes its appear 
 ance in a letter which, soon after this, he wrote 
 to Mr. Johnson. "I begin," he says, "to have 
 something of Higginson s feeling about the word 
 * Christian/ On the same date, another brief 
 paragraph reveals characteristic tendencies of 
 thought and feeling. " Is it not inspiring to see 
 those French idealists so swaying the people ? 
 Here it is thought that only the lowest motives 
 and most material considerations are to be ad 
 dressed to them, that they cannot appreciate 
 anything higher. The faith of these men is 
 beautiful. Sam, this thing cannot fail." 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 FALL RIVER, June 29, 1848. 
 
 DEAR SAM, I have just come from Mount 
 Hope. For months it has been beckoning to me 
 across the water. Nay, it has been a friend of 
 many years. On the walls of the chamber where 
 I slept when a boy hung, and hangs still, a little 
 
120 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 sketch in India ink of Mount Hope and the bay. 
 Was it destiny, prophecy ? . . . The Hutchin- 
 son family came here to sing, and some of their 
 friends got up an excursion for them and asked 
 me to join them. Accordingly, at seven this 
 morning, we set sail under a shaded sky, and beat 
 over to the opposite shore, some six miles. . . . 
 The brothers are good-hearted and cordial, and 
 call you " brother " in a very pleasant way. 
 Mount Hope quite answered all my expectations, 
 and I at once entered into negotiations with the 
 woman at the red house at the bottom of the hill 
 to take me some day to board. We all drank at 
 the spring where King Philip quenched his thirst. 
 It is at the foot of a granite cliff, clambered all 
 over with grapevine and wild roses, in which is a 
 little recess called King Philip s seat. Here he 
 may very likely have sat, nourishing in his great 
 wild heart his schemes of resistance to the grow 
 ing power of the whites. We climbed to the 
 top of the hill, and had a fine panorama of the 
 bay, ... and the beautiful farm fields all lying 
 in the lights and shadows of a clouded sky. Then 
 we came down to the shadow of the old gnarled 
 apple-trees where our table was spread. The 
 skillful men and women concocted a chowder over 
 a gypsy fire, which we had just begun to eat 
 when down upon us came a tremendous shower, 
 
FALL RIVER 121 
 
 which drove us and our baskets, well wetted, to 
 the shelter of the red house. This only made us 
 merrier, however. The Hutchinsons sang two 
 or three songs, and then it was time to return. 
 The wind had shifted, and we had to beat back 
 again, but it was not tedious. The sun shone 
 fair upon our town as we rounded the point, and 
 on the wharf we bade good-by to our friendly 
 singers. . . . 
 
 I am encouraged by the political disaffections 
 in both parties, as showing that partisan bondage 
 is loosing its hold. I hope little from political 
 action against slavery. But so far as the govern 
 ment acts at all upon the matter, I wish it to 
 be against rather than for slavery ; and if men 
 opposed to slavery can conscientiously go to Con 
 gress, I am glad to have them there, and in the 
 President s chair, too ! 
 
 FALL RIVER, June , 1848. 
 
 DEAR SAM, At last we have the longed-for, 
 the beautiful, hymn-book ! I am quite satisfied 
 with its externals, type and page are neat and 
 agreeable. The supplement is grand, Sam, with 
 out a " stain of weakness ; " from beginning to 
 end a fine, full strain of music, swelling, dying, 
 varying in mood, but rising at last into a grand, 
 triumphant swell of sure prophecy ! 
 
122 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 ... I had a delightful visit at Newport ; the 
 fresh ocean air, the repose of the grass-grown 
 streets, are delicious. It happened to be the 
 day of the great Yearly Meeting of the Quakers. 
 After our service I went into their vast meeting 
 house, but I got no seat, for the press, and so I 
 soon came out, leaving a man lifelessly calling us 
 through his nose to " go into the vineyard of the 
 Lord." How I longed for somebody to speak a 
 living word to that great concourse from a real 
 "moving of the spirit." . . . The only chance I 
 got to visit the beach was Sunday night in the 
 moonlight, and then but for a moment ; but I 
 could not come away without seeing it. New 
 port is consecrated to me by the memory of Dr. 
 Channing, and I feel each visit to be a pilgrim 
 age. Have you read his Life ? There are some 
 beautiful incidents. But I fear it reveals too 
 much the inward process of self -discipline. I 
 shrink from reading such secrets, they do not 
 bear printing. Yet he [the editor] has kept back, 
 with a true delicacy, the most interior expres 
 sions. 
 
 The confidential intercourse between Mr. Long 
 fellow and Mr. Johnson discloses a perfect har 
 mony, and the unrestricted but delicate intimacy 
 of two rare and noble spirits. Letters, frequent 
 
FALL RIVER 123 
 
 and full, usually serious, often playful, always 
 affectionate, passed between the pair. What 
 ever was of concern to either was eagerly dis 
 cussed. Until a later date than the present, 
 Johnson s do not come down to us, but their 
 purport is to be inferred from those of his friend, 
 which he more systematically preserved. John 
 son was now passing through a trying period of 
 candidature ; attracting by his intellectual power, 
 his spiritual fervor, and his brilliant style, but 
 alarming and offending by his frank avowals of 
 theological heresies, and of antislavery and other 
 reform sentiments. Longfellow wrote him again 
 and again, wise, brave, and reassuring letters, 
 well calculated to give him that encouragement 
 of which, in his own despondent moments, he 
 often betrayed his need to his " Damon," as he 
 sometimes styled him. No experience was passed 
 over unnoted, no emotion was unshared between 
 these two friends. They found in each other 
 something of that support and comfort which 
 they were not seeking in the marriage state. 
 Their joint enterprise, the hymn-book, had 
 achieved the success of even a fourth edition, 
 and the correspondence was still replete with sug 
 gestions about it, and an occasional remittance. 
 Among the concerns which presently engaged 
 Mr. Longfellow, in his parish, was a very char- 
 
124 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 acteristic one. " I have been very busy, reading 
 new books for the Sunday-school. Out of a hun 
 dred I rejected fully half, for bad sentiments." 
 He also appealed to Hale, then editing a Sunday- 
 school paper, for help. One phrase of the follow 
 ing letter shows that he had early instituted 
 those intimacies with the children near him, 
 which always made them at home wherever his 
 own home was. 
 
 TO EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 FALL RIVER [no date]. 
 
 DEAR EDWARD, ... I have occasion to keep 
 a store of little books for little children who 
 come to my study, or to distribute in my Sunday 
 school, and I am compelled for the most part to re 
 sort to the Sunday-school Union, which furnishes 
 an abundant supply of such books of every size, 
 very neatly printed and prettily illustrated. But 
 those books are not safe ; they come in packages, 
 and of every package several have to be burned ; 
 others will do with pen-alteration of a word or 
 two, and others again are very good. But I wish 
 we could be as well furnished with books of the 
 same style, built after our ways of thinking ; 
 which would impress the lesson of truthfulness 
 without allusions to the " lake of fire," and teach 
 the presence of God in some other character than 
 
FALL RIVER 125 
 
 that of spy ; and warn against evil without the 
 exhibition of an angry God who holds "a rod 
 to send young sinners swift to hell ; " and tell of 
 Jesus without stating the object of his life to be 
 "to save us from going to hell ; " and inculcate 
 the importance of time without the stimulus of 
 reference to the terror of death and the gloom of 
 the grave. 
 
 Opening his heart to Johnson, he complains - 
 the young minister s trial! of dryness as to 
 sermon-writing. "I did hope it wouldn t be so 
 when I got into my own pulpit. But I don t yet 
 feel identified with the people and somehow don t 
 get near to them as I should like. But this must 
 come in time, I suppose, following its own laws. 
 
 . . . " I visit daily a young girl, patiently sink 
 ing in consumption. Only now and then do I find 
 what to say to her upon spiritual things. I find a 
 prayer the best expression. I feel, Sam, that in 
 visiting the sick, the minister should be able to 
 carry with him an atmosphere i physical health, 
 which would be as reviving as a breath of fresh 
 air. Spiritually, I feel that he needs to reach 
 that height which shall make him equally calm in 
 the presence of the joyous and of the suffering; 
 which shall practically reconcile those apparent 
 contrasts and discords that are always side by 
 
126 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 side in life, and from one to another of which he 
 may be constantly passing in his intercourse with 
 his people. If he can look upon all as serenely as 
 God s light shines at once upon the festival and 
 the sick-chamber, the prison-cell and the work 
 shop, then he will be welcome and helpful every 
 where ; will be a true divine presence. But what 
 self-conquest, and baptism of the spirit, before 
 that height of spiritual health can be reached ! " 
 
 About the same date : " I was sent for lately 
 to attend the funeral of a lady whom, or whose 
 family, I had never seen ; the body was buried in 
 a field near the house, and I made a prayer at the 
 grave [after the house service]. It was a country 
 funeral. I liked the bearing of the coffin upon 
 the friendly shoulders to its private resting-place, 
 amid familiar scenes, so much better than the 
 long procession of carriages and an entombment 
 in a public graveyard. Sunday, I attended the 
 funeral of the wife of one of my parishioners, of 
 whose sickness I had not even heard. And on 
 Tuesday that of another parishioner, who died 
 suddenly, leaving a wife and young children. It 
 is hard always to keep one s calmness and serene 
 faith amid so many tears, and at the same time 
 to sympathize with the sorrow. 
 
 . . . "You have heard of the death of John 
 Ware s wife. He feels it deeply, but writes me 
 
FALL RIVER I2/ 
 
 with calmness. He says, " All I do is in the 
 thought of her, looking to a more precious min 
 istry than ever before." Sam, this is a trial we 
 cannot understand." 
 
 ..." Last Sunday Charles Spear preached in 
 my pulpit in the evening. I prepared the way 
 for him by a morning sermon upon " Christ the 
 judge of the world ; " speaking, first, of his judg 
 ment of individuals by the silent lesson of his 
 character and life ; that pure, unfaltering tone 
 which may show each of us how far we are from 
 unison with God; and secondly, of his judgment 
 of man by the immutable laws of love to God 
 and to man, which he proclaimed, and which are 
 the standards by which all men and institutions 
 are to be approved or condemned ; closing by 
 an application of these laws to war, slavery, our 
 present system of trade and labor, and our treat 
 ment of the criminal. 
 
 " I have been to the Kennebunk Ordination. 1 
 The services were good, but I was a good deal 
 riled up by the ministers ungenerously, as 
 I thought, insisting upon calling themselves a 
 council, which neither the minister nor the people 
 desired. I even thought of writing to the * Chris 
 tian Register about it, but afterwards cooled off, 
 and saw that, whatever they called themselves, 
 
 1 That of the Rev. Joshua Augustus Swan. 
 
128 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 the thing did n t exist. ... At the Boston station 
 I found [Ralph Waldo] Emerson, going to Saco 
 to lecture. It was a pleasant chance. He was 
 very genial, and has much shrewd common sense. 
 Rochester [spirit] knockings he could not away 
 with (as indeed who can ?), and declared that 
 Knockings were only for the Knockable. He 
 1 would n t hear them. If the good heaven comes 
 down to earth, it shall at least be civil. He told 
 me of the people he met in England. Froude he 
 liked very much. Francis Newman he did not 
 like. Starr King appeared also, in the cars, go 
 ing the way of all flesh nowadays to lecture." 
 Presently our young pastor encounters another 
 of the trials of the minister the lay monitor. 
 The issues of the time are intimated in the talk 
 of his parishioner, the same good man who had 
 offered such liberal assistance in studying the life 
 of Jesus. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 FALL RIVER, September 5, 1848, 
 
 DEAR SAM, ... I came back to Fall River 
 
 on Thursday afternoon in the express train, 
 
 which tore along without stopping and jarred 
 
 my nerves in the most fearful manner. Thus 
 
 wearied, I had hardly reached here when 
 
 appeared and spent the whole evening, saying the 
 
FALL RIVER I 2Q 
 
 most disheartening things about the need of a 
 minister s recognizing the division of labor, and 
 confining himself to the elucidation of the gos 
 pel, leaving slavery and intemperance to be dis 
 cussed by those who had had time and oppor 
 tunity to examine these subjects thoroughly, - 
 as the minister could not if he attended to his 
 proper work. He said I was invited here, "not 
 to be a minister of religion, but a minister of 
 the gospel," etc. The answers were obvious, 
 but I was too weary to contend with him. It 
 chilled and discouraged me, though, to be met 
 thus on my return, and the next day I felt both 
 unwell and homesick, and did not write any ser 
 mon. Saturday, I wrote a Communion sermon ; 
 the lesson of which was that the disciples needed 
 the remembrance not so much, not merely, for 
 their personal consolation, but because they had 
 a work to do, for which they must be strength 
 ened by keeping alive their union with Jesus and 
 with each other, that each might feel that he 
 was strong by all this strength. So we, too, 
 have a work to do, since Christ s work was not 
 yet completed, nor God s kingdom come ; a work 
 indicated in his words, " Inasmuch as ye have 
 not done it unto one of the least of these my 
 brethren, naked, hungry, sick, in prison, ye have 
 not done it unto me ; " and I applied this espe- 
 
130 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 cially to the call made upon a Christian church 
 by the suffering and evil that existed in the nar 
 row dirty streets and miserable houses where 
 the Fall River poor live in want and sin. I have 
 felt ever since I came here that I ought to do 
 something for these children of wretchedness 
 and neglect ; but have n t known how to get at 
 them. Now, I have found one kind-hearted 
 woman who visits them, and I mean to put my 
 self under her guidance, and I hope soon to 
 engage a little band of Christians in this work. 
 I feel that a common object of this kind will do 
 more than anything to bring about that union of 
 interests of which there seems to be so little in 
 my society. 
 
 Dear Sam., I have written a hymn for your 
 ordination. I do not know how you will like it, 
 for it is very general. What of Medford ? Shall 
 I tell you what Stetson said to me in Boston, 
 that their only doubt about asking you seemed 
 to be in the feeling that you moved in too high a 
 path of thought for the common people ? There 
 are many, you know, who come to church to get 
 a kind of comfort and cheer in their humble 
 daily work, into whose sphere of thought and 
 action great ideas do not enter. Now I believe 
 you would meet these more, after you were set 
 tled and .saw their need. But still, your work is 
 
FALL RIVER 131 
 
 rather that of a prophet, and seems to demand 
 the moral wilderness of the city as its ground ; 
 where are thousands of active, restless minds 
 needing to be set right rather than kept right, 
 needing to be inspired rather than comforted. 
 So, if you are not asked to Medford, think it is 
 not the place for you. If you are, it will be the 
 place for you, for a time certainly am I right ? 
 . . . Yesterday I got a letter from T. ; after 
 almost a year s silence ; rather rhapsodical and 
 pantheistic, but much in earnest. But, he says, 
 " I must write to you in this tangent style, for I 
 have been living with low-minded, jealous artists, 
 and bodies of sweating models, and amid the low 
 jokes and jargon of harlots ; drawing from nude 
 men and women, the human corruption from 
 which art must spring, as the bird whose cradle 
 is decay. In academies and schools, and amid 
 the earthly tabernacles so polluted, one is in 
 clanger of forgetting the higher purposes of art. 
 But now, away from all this (at the Baths of 
 Lucca ; were you there ?), I can feel the old ever 
 lasting song sound within me, and I cannot resist 
 the feeling which prompts me to give my better 
 and constant nature wing." Why " must spring," 
 Sam ? Is n t it dreadful to know that it does 
 thus spring ? that our artists are thus trained ? 
 What can we expect of art, then ? Yet it was so 
 with Raphael. . . . 
 
132 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 I see a notice in the street of the formation of 
 a "Workingmen s Protective Union." I must 
 inquire into it. 
 
 TO EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 FALL RIVER, January 9, 1849. 
 
 DEAR EDWARD, I have been upon the hill 
 to see the coasters, the human /^/^-coasters, 
 I mean, and their shouts still sound from afar. 
 This excellent New Bedford idea has reached 
 us this winter, and ladies and gentlemen renew 
 their childhood and make sport of the downhill 
 of life. I call it an excellent idea, and it surely 
 is, to get people out of doors and engage them 
 in exhilarating, healthful, and social amusement ; 
 better by far than being pent up in a ballroom. 
 I don t see why coasting should n t become a 
 national New England sport. ... A man came 
 to me lately to help him get work. I was not 
 successful and it made me sad, feeling, moreover, 
 that here was but one of so many. " A poor 
 man seeking work and unable to find work ; seek 
 ing leave to toil that he might be fed and clothed 
 and in vain; the saddest sight that fortune s 
 inequality exhibits under the sun." . In a world, 
 too, where is so much work needing to be done. 
 If we could but bring together the work and the 
 man ready and anxious to do it ! I feel a grow- 
 
FALL RIVER 133 
 
 ing interest in these and other social questions, 
 and no less strongly feel my inability to begin 
 to fathom them, through want of knowledge. 
 Pray communicate to me from time to time of 
 yours, and indicate sources of information. Cer 
 tainly one cannot look at the poverty, wretched 
 ness, ignorance and inevitable sin which exist as 
 a permanent element in our fairest communities, 
 without a shudder at the terribleness of the 
 evils of whose depth most of us have but faint 
 conception ; and without feeling that it cannot 
 be God s will that it should continue ; that it 
 ought not by man s allowance and aid to con 
 tinue. But not to dwell in dreams of future 
 and far off renovation to discover what is to 
 be done now, Jiic labor ! The evil is so vast, 
 the problem so complicated, that appalled we 
 ask where to begin, and he is a wise man who 
 can answer. Plainly, the evil will not grow less 
 or the problem clearer. Almsgiving, it is plain, 
 is but superficial alleviation. Free education, 
 doing so much, does not reach those most in 
 need, the lowest, and that an increasing class, 
 since of that the children are too useful at 
 home to be spared for school. Our factories 
 make the law a dead letter. 
 
 What do you know of Louis Napoleon ? He 
 once wrote a book on pauperism, or some kin- 
 
134 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 dred subject, which shows a good tendency. 
 His father was a man of beautiful character, 
 which Goethe has finely delineated. 
 
 ... A letter to-day from - , who speaks of 
 himself as disappointed in his efforts for a class 
 of " workingmen " in Boston, and as feeling much 
 alone in the world. But when I have met him, 
 and felt anxious to give him my sympathy in his 
 efforts and hopes, he has seemed so little to need 
 it, to be so self-sustained and self-inclosed, that 
 I have found myself unable. He seems to have 
 taken on a " spherical " condition, and I cannot 
 get into contact with him any more than the hot 
 crucible with its drop of water. I shouldn t 
 wonder if this were somehow the secret of his 
 ill success in his educational efforts. He would 
 fain help these less-favored ones, but he will 
 not, or cannot, touch them. And I think his 
 workingmen must feel as if there were a chasm 
 between them and him, in spite of his sincere 
 expressions of interest and his real desire to be 
 of benefit to them. 
 
 I wish you would tell me of some of your prac 
 tical plans and operations for the good of your 
 church. I have little inventive faculty in this 
 line. 
 
FALL RITER 135 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 FALL RIVER, February 27, 1849. 
 
 DEAR SAM, . . . As to those men of 
 
 you replied worthily. The fact is, being just 
 launched, they were afraid you would upset their 
 boat if they took you on board. But nothing 
 can excuse their letter and its virtual prohibition 
 of your fulfilling your engaged time. O men of 
 much belief and little faith ! They wish to build 
 up a Unitarian society, and dare not have a min 
 ister who will drive anybody away. They cannot 
 spare men to go out of meeting ! You must go 
 where a free church is to be built up on the 
 basis of life ; which will choose a living minister 
 before a comfortable one. Well, courage ! these 
 wanderings of yours, preaching in the wilderness, 
 are not in vain. Hearts and minds are stirred. 
 It is not lifeless or vain preaching which brings 
 such committee-letters. Only I hope your ser 
 mons are scrupulously just. I thought Went- 
 worth s, strong, free, true as it was, not entirely 
 just, since I doubt not there were many men 
 who honestly thought (Heaven knows through 
 what process of logic !) that a vote for Taylor 
 was a vote for freedom. There was a vast deal 
 of dust thrown into people s eyes. 
 
 Joshua Swan has lately preached for me. His 
 
136 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 sermons gave me a great deal of pleasure, mainly 
 from their complete naturalness and simplicity. 
 They were upon quiet topics, charity, little sins ; 
 full of the simplicity of a cultivated mind, and of 
 pure and gentle feeling. His nature is quiet, and 
 I was glad to see him true to it. Contact and 
 conflict will give him more fire. I long for the 
 power to clothe high and spiritual ideas in the 
 simplest, homelike language. 
 
 The 1 6th was the anniversary of my ordina 
 tion. I gathered my people under my wing, in 
 the evening, in a social meeting at the parson 
 age. Some fifty came, and it was very pleasant 
 to me, and, I believe, to them. The Sunday 
 after, I preached a brief anniversary sermon to a 
 handful of people in a snowstorm. I could not 
 congratulate them upon an increase of numbers. 
 But I never had any extravagant hopes as to 
 numerical growth. I have neither the bustling 
 energy to bring people in, nor the popular ora 
 tory to attract. I should be satisfied with our 
 numbers if there were more life. I know that 
 some are interested in my preaching, and do not 
 let myself doubt that it has done good, nor am 
 I discouraged. But I feel a lukewarmness and 
 passivity in the society which communicates 
 itself to me. At least, I have not spiritual life 
 enough to outweigh it. However, my temper- 
 
FALL RIVER 137 
 
 ament indicates gradual operation to be my 
 method, and I hope I am gaining power for more 
 impressive action by and by. 
 
 With place and people personally, I am well 
 content. But I do not find myself as yet taking 
 deep root here. . . . Have I told you of my 
 Friday evening meetings for the study of the 
 New Testament ? Our numbers have increased 
 from two to half a dozen and sometimes nine ! 
 They are at my study, and are at times very 
 interesting. 
 
 He early put his people to a simple moral test. 
 
 "The Universalist minister came to see me 
 yesterday and I liked him ; is from the West, 
 having lived in Kentucky and Illinois. He has 
 stentorian lungs I heard him as I passed his 
 church last Sunday. It will make my people 
 stare to see him in our pulpit, but t will do them 
 
 good. And I shall not, like , ask them 
 
 beforehand if they are willing to hear a Univer 
 salist, but take it for granted they have too much 
 sense to object." 
 
 He habitually longs for the company of his 
 friend ; in almost every letter he calls for him : 
 
 "The spring-magic touches even Fall River 
 with beauty, and the houses that seemed so bare 
 are veiled in clouds of rose color and white and 
 
138 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 tender green. I am much abroad in the woods 
 and fields. When will you come and be my com 
 panion?" 
 
 As he writes, on a Sunday afternoon, "A 
 preacher is holding forth in the hall across the 
 street, and his forlorn tones come through my 
 open windows. Oh ! Sam, at times it comes 
 over one that all this preaching is terribly spec 
 tral ! Only the remembrance of some heart-stir 
 ring, living words, at intervals heard from pulpits 
 in times past, encourages us to hope that we too 
 may, at times, feed others with something more 
 than husks." 
 
 . . . " Last Sunday I was at home in the morn 
 ing ; in the afternoon went to the Stone Bridge 
 [a mission station], and discoursed to quite a 
 numerous auditory, for an hour, upon man the 
 child of God, made in his image. Little lower 
 than the angels was my text ; and the greatness 
 and worth of the human soul, its divine capacities 
 and destiny, my theme. Needful words to them, 
 too seldom heard there before, I fear. To-day 
 they have a Baptist elder from Newport, and the 
 Sunday after I go again. It was beautiful, as I 
 stood in the pulpit, to look out through the win 
 dows or the open door upon the waters of the 
 bay, which come up within a* short stone s throw 
 of the house. 
 
FALL RirKR 139 
 
 ..." I don t suppose I shall venture to write 
 you or anybody from Niagara. If, as Emerson 
 says, a great picture imposes silence upon one, 
 what must a great God-painting do ? " 
 
 TO EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 OFFICE OF SCHOOL COMMITTEE, 
 FALL RIVER, May 9, 1849. 
 
 I write in an interval of official labors (!), with 
 an official steel pen and official blue ink. . . . 
 The exclamation point is not an ironical tone- 
 mark, but an embodied sigh of weariness. Mon 
 day, yesterday, and to-day, I have been inces 
 santly engaged, morning, afternoon, and evening, 
 examining scholars and teachers, and a vista of 
 work opens itself through the rest of the week 
 which convinces me that I repose in no sinecure, 
 for a time at least. . . . 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 FALL RIVER, May 17, 1849. 
 
 DEAR SAM, I preached at Fair Haven Sun 
 day, having been incessantly occupied the pre 
 ceding week in the labors of school committee- 
 man. In the cars I met Edward Hale, going to 
 New Bedford. So Monday I brought him over 
 here, and we spent a pleasant morning basking 
 in the sunny fields. 
 
140 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 Alcott wrote me a note of invitation to the 
 Town and Country Club. I thought your re 
 marks on the club showed you slightly rabid. 
 Short of complete isolation, I can hardly imagine 
 anything that would less limit or label anybody 
 than paying five dollars for a share of a room 
 where you might meet the all-sided, motley, un- 
 labelable set of people who have got together in 
 this club, from Fields and Whipple to Garrison, 
 Parker, and Dwight. So don t bristle and put 
 out your quills (or your pen) against this harm 
 less chimcera. ... At the club meeting Hurl- 
 but came out gallantly in favor of asking in the 
 women. Emerson and Dwight opposed, which I 
 should think quite un-Fourieritish. Wentworth 
 [Higginson] spoke also in favor of the fair. I 
 hear some talk of having Alcott to " converse " 
 here, if twelve " 7n/eu/wmicoi " can be found with 
 each two dollars in his or her purse. 
 
 Have you heard the Germania s exquisite mu 
 sic ? I am going over to New Bedford to-night 
 for the purpose. I heard them in Cambridge. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 FALL RIVER, August 26, 1849. 
 
 DEAR SAM, How beautiful the quiet of the 
 Sunday afternoon ! To sit and hear those soft- 
 clanging bells call the people to hot churches, 
 
FALL RIVER 141 
 
 while I sit in a cool back room and wait till the 
 shadows grow long before having to go out ! I 
 enlarge my phylacteries, and am to have this 
 cool back room, which sees only the morning 
 sun, besides my front parlor (no longer bed-rid 
 den), where the afternoon rays are too fervent, 
 and light must be shut out to keep away the 
 heat. 
 
 . . . You have heard of my father s death, in 
 the early morning of the day I reached home. It 
 is a great comfort to me to have been with him 
 [previously] in his sickness, to render those little 
 attentions which are so great a satisfaction to 
 our hearts. I felt nearer to him than I have ever 
 done before. And we all had the strongest sense 
 of his presence with us after he had left the body, 
 a joyful presence, as of one from whom a cloud 
 had passed and a burden fallen, and who now 
 stood among us in health and new life, giving us 
 his happy benediction. I am sure that sickness 
 has often drawn a thicker veil between him and 
 us while he dwelt in the flesh than death has 
 now done, which seemed rather the lifting of a 
 veil. 
 
 Mr. Longfellow s letter on the occasion of a 
 brother s death, which took place a year later, is 
 fittingly associated here with the last. 
 
142 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 PORTLAND, September 17, 1850. 
 
 DEAR SAM, I found that my brother had 
 revived after they wrote* me ; but he was very 
 sick, and is daily growing weaker. It seems im 
 possible that he can continue more than a very 
 few days. How strangely the vital powers resist 
 the attacks of disease ! Like the defenders of a 
 besieged city, driven from outpost after outpost, 
 rallying and retreating, till, shut up in the citadel, 
 they stand at bay and hold out still. So power 
 ful is life, so hard to conquer ; anon, a slight 
 obstruction, a pin s prick, and it is gone at once ! 
 Shall we ever so know and obey the physical 
 laws that this bountiful energy shall have its full 
 course ? And then will there still be a limit, as 
 we are wont to say, or will the thought of some 
 prove true, that " death itself shall be abolished " ? 
 Why may not the healthy process of renewal 
 endlessly repair the daily and hourly waste ? We 
 say the soul would choose not to be confined for 
 ever in these fetters of the flesh, that its wings 
 cannot expand here. But who has ever reached 
 the possibilities of an earthly expansion ? If, 
 from year to year of man s physical prime, his 
 mind enlarges in power and attainments, who 
 can place the limit to this enlargement, suppos- 
 
FALL RIVER 143 
 
 ing the body to be continually renewed ? Who 
 that dies oldest, most vigorous, having accom 
 plished most of acquaintance with what this 
 world has to teach, has yet done more than begin 
 a knowledge of even the natural world ? 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 SACO, MAINE, October 22, 1849. 
 
 DEAR SAM, Waiting here at Saco for the 
 cars, how can I better spend the rainy hour than 
 by resuming my intercourse with you ? 
 
 ... I did not go to the convention, though I 
 wanted to hear Weiss s sermon on Inspiration. I 
 am glad he took that subject. I feel more and 
 more that the great doctrine that needs to be 
 preached into the ear of this generation is the 
 doctrine of the Holy Spirit, the word of the liv 
 ing, present God, which whoso receiveth, to them 
 it gives power to be the sons of God. This faith 
 only can redeem our age from materialism. This 
 alone can be as it always has been, from Jesus 
 to George Fox and William Channing the 
 life, the support, the strength of reformer, hero, 
 martyr, saint. 
 
 I was most forcibly struck, the other day, while 
 commenting upon the eighth chapter of John, to 
 see how this faith in the real presence lay at the 
 bottom of the soul of Jesus, coming to him now 
 
144 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 as destiny: "He that sent me is with me;" 
 now as consolation in loneliness, misunderstand 
 ing, and misrepresentation : " I am not alone ; " 
 -now as courage to proclaim the eternal and 
 divine truth, he, an unknown, unlettered youth, 
 in face of the oldest and most reverend and 
 most learned : " I speak not from myself, I speak 
 the words of Him that sent me;" and so on. 
 Taking refuge constantly in this thought, driven 
 in upon it by outward opposition, and uttering 
 his most mystical sayings in answer to the cavils 
 of the dead - souled Pharisees, not, it would 
 seem, for their enlightenment, but for his own 
 consolation and encouragement. 
 
 Sam, we must try to live in this faith. If God 
 be with us, we need not fear and cannot fail. If 
 we speak this word, which we have learned of 
 him, it cannot but be victorious, though we per 
 ish. And how attain this faith ? Jesus says : 
 "The Father hath not left me alone, because I 
 do always the things that please Him," "For I 
 came not to do my own will, but the will of 
 Him that sent me." 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 FALL RIVER, October 31, 1850. 
 
 . . . Think of our rising upon the city of Boston 
 in conjunction, the same Sunday ! and to drop 
 
FALL RIVER 145 
 
 the astronomical figure of my not knowing 
 you were there. I had a good enough time at 
 Chauncy Place. Do you know that the church 
 is lighted by a ceiling of subdued glass ? When 
 this was put in, Arthur Oilman said it was the 
 first time he had ever heard of trying to raise 
 Christians under glass, adding that he now knew 
 what was meant by "early Christians." 
 
 I tea-ed with Dr. Frothingham, who was kindly 
 and social. O. B. s mother told me how she tried 
 to persuade him not to be a minister! till one 
 day he came to her and told her that he must 
 be, when she ceased. . . . 
 
 Of Jenny Lind and the Fugitive Slave Law 
 meetings, when we meet. I hope this golden 
 weather will last your advent. But if tempests 
 lower, we will have a cosy talk by the air-tight- 
 stove-side. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 FALL RIVER, December 3, 1850. 
 
 DEAR SAM, Whence this silence ? Ticknor 
 told me he was about printing a new edition of a 
 certain hymn-book, and I have sent him a long 
 list of corrections. . . . Sam, of one grand thought 
 I am sorry to find no expression in our book 
 God s pure justice, his eternal law of right. I 
 suppose we could find no true expression of it, 
 
146 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 most hymns so wretchedly pervert it. ... Have 
 you read " Alton Locke " ? It is charmingly fresh 
 and earnest. ... It is said to be by a Church of 
 England minister. If so, he must be a very 
 liberal one. The theology is mainly very good, 
 with perhaps a little too much of what your 
 friend in Nantucket called " Jesusism." That I 
 do not understand, do not get hold of, wherever 
 
 I meet it. ... This reminds me that called, 
 
 Sunday evening, and said he really had some 
 doubts whether he could conscientiously aid in 
 supporting preaching which he conscientiously 
 felt was so positively erroneous in its methods 
 and topics as that of our Unitarian pulpits, 
 though I don t think he finds anything elsewhere 
 that suits him better. . . . He is very sincere 
 about it, poor man, and always frank with me 
 and personally friendly, and I can t help feeling 
 that it is hard for him to sit under, and pay 
 largely for, what feeds him not and what he 
 thinks feeds not others, or feeds them amiss. 
 But what a dreadful state of spiritual dyspepsia 
 to get into, is n t it ? 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 PORTLAND, March 17, 1851. 
 
 DEAR SAM, I came down here last Thursday 
 on receiving a telegraphic note communicating 
 
FALL RIVER 
 
 the sudden death of my mother ; sudden, but 
 gentle and placid ; such a death as I have often 
 heard her wish might be hers, and a fitting close 
 to a life serene, quiet, loving, and holy. 
 
 I did not think I should ever weep again, at 
 such a time ; but when I went at night to the 
 chamber where, through my childhood, I slept 
 next to my mother s, the remembrance of all the 
 loving care which had embosomed those years 
 came over me and forced tears that would not 
 be stayed at once. Now I have only the most 
 peaceful and happy thoughts, and sweetest sense 
 of the presence through all the house of a meek 
 and tranquil spirit, a spirit calm and gentle and 
 full of love. 
 
 My mother had long been an invalid. I do 
 not remember her as other than such. We had 
 not supposed that she would stay here to number 
 seventy-three years. But I know not how to be 
 thankful enough for the guidance and influence 
 of such a character and heart and life. She was 
 remarkable for her piety, the simplest, most 
 unobtrusive, most childlike, most pervasive and 
 controlling trust in God ; not very often spoken 
 of in words, I think, but always speaking in the 
 life ; in her daily patience, cheerfulness, calmness, 
 and active goodness ; in the devout book she 
 loved to have in her hand ; in her love for all 
 
148 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 things beautiful in nature, whether in commonest 
 flower or the thunderstorm, which I first learned 
 not to fear by seeing her always sit at the window 
 to watch its glory. 
 
 She had remarkable calmness and self-posses 
 sion, the fruit, I believe, of her piety. It did 
 not falter under many and frequent trials and sor 
 rows. I shall not forget how, years ago, after 
 the death of my almost twin sister, she stood 
 with me beside the body and simply, by the 
 cheerful calmness of her tones, took from me 
 the dread of death. And severer trials than the 
 death of children I have seen her bear with equal 
 serenity. 
 
 Dear Sam, shall not such lives say to us for 
 ever, "Come up hither"? such guarding spirits 
 keep us ever strong, holy, trustful, and untrem- 
 bling ? 
 
 To Hale, writing on the same occasion, he 
 adds : 
 
 " One half of our circle have now passed within 
 the veil, and it grows more and more transparent. 
 The Beyond seems not the Far-off, but a near 
 and present home of the spirit, filled with spirit 
 ual presences. They go that they may no more 
 be absent." 
 
FALL RIVER 149 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 FALL RIVER, June 26, 1851. 
 
 DEAR SAM, You are right. The words of 
 Jesus are not yet obsolete, because his work is 
 not yet fulfilled. The Truth comes not to bring 
 peace, but a sword. This antislavery question 
 comes, as Christianity came, into an unbelieving 
 age; comes judging, dividing, separating family, 
 church, political party, precisely because it is the 
 question which now in this country tests the 
 fidelity and sincerity of individuals, and church, 
 and party. And therefore you are right in hold 
 ing your ground, feeling that the question is one 
 quite beyond persons. We do not doubt what 
 the result will be in the end. And the end will 
 come the sooner, and bring the peace which shall 
 endure, the more faithful every man is in his 
 place. Whether your friends are able to keep 
 
 you at , or whether you shall be called to 
 
 another place, for a place you will find or 
 make, of this be sure, that your fidelity, dear 
 Sam, is bringing on God s Kingdom. If we can 
 but all of us say, " Father, glorify Thy name ; 
 for this cause came I unto this hour ! " 
 
 At the same time, it is pleasant if one can 
 have the peace and fidelity, too. I hope I have 
 not failed in the latter. I have spoken plainly 
 
150 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 and strongly, and I know there are some in the 
 Society who do not want to hear or have such 
 preaching. But I must do them the credit to 
 say that they have manifested no disposition to 
 interfere or oppose, and I believe the majority 
 of my Society would not be satisfied with a min 
 ister who should be wavering or wanting in this 
 matter. So that we have had no trouble on this 
 point, and, so far as I know, the " lukewarmness " 
 has not come of it. 
 
 After considerable delay occasioned by some 
 legal difficulties, the Society voted last Tuesday 
 evening to request me to withdraw my resigna 
 tion, and to raise eighteen hundred dollars by 
 tax on the pews for repairing and putting in 
 order the house. And they have got enough 
 subscribed to pay all the annual expenses. The 
 crisis called the people out, and quite a strong 
 personal interest has been manifested toward 
 me. One man, who does not go to church and 
 whom I never spoke to, said he would give 
 "five dollars ! " rather than have me go out of 
 town ! 
 
 Mr. Longfellow s first settlement was, after 
 all, a short one. He had discharged the duties 
 of his pastorate with diligence and sympathy, 
 and with that unfailing sincerity which made all 
 
FALL RITER 151 
 
 his ministrations so fresh and real. He had 
 become interested in his people ; to some, much 
 attached. He had entered heartily into the life 
 of the town, engaging actively in its philanthro 
 pies, and promoting its agencies for mental and 
 moral improvement. To the schools, especially, 
 as a member and as chairman of the school 
 committee, he had given much time and labor. 
 Yet a certain congeniality between himself and 
 his position, which was indispensable to his hap 
 piness and sense of fitness, seems to have re 
 mained wanting. He did not come to feel it 
 " his place." At the same time the business 
 difficulties of the church had continued ; the con 
 gregation had not increased in numbers ; what 
 seemed to him the "passivity" of the people 
 had not yielded to his influence so visibly as to 
 assure him of the value of his work among them. 
 As events showed, there was injustice to himself 
 and to his true success in the discouragement 
 he came to feel. " It is good to have patience 
 with a place," he wrote later, " and perhaps I did 
 not have enough at Fall River." But after much 
 misgiving as to his duty, he offered his resigna 
 tion of the pulpit in the early summer of 1851. 
 It was received with warm tokens of regret ; 
 and, as intimated in the last letter, was declined 
 by a nearly unanimous vote of the Society. His 
 
152 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 own judgment, however, was not overruled by 
 the regard manifested, and he insisted on with 
 drawal. 
 
 At about the same time, he received an invita 
 tion from a gentleman in Boston to visit Europe 
 as tutor to his son. The opportunity attracted 
 him, both as giving him a long-coveted privilege, 
 and as offering him the prospect of improving 
 his health. He therefore accepted it, and sailed 
 for England in the autumn. 
 
 Before his departure, he wrote Mr. Johnson, 
 encouraging his friend, who was also just leaving 
 his pulpit, and expressing his feelings as to his 
 own pastorate and its termination. 
 
 " I am sorry," he says, " that your departure 
 
 f rom should be brought about in the manner 
 
 it was. At the same time, I have not felt - 
 to be just the place for you because there were 
 not enough people there for your elective affinity 
 to choose such as belong to you. But a place 
 is awaiting you. No fear but you will find it. 
 Meanwhile, where you are is your place, heart 
 within and God o erhead. It is not pleasant to 
 uproot even a year s growth of attachments, but 
 it is as true now as it ever was, that no man who 
 has forsaken brethren and friends, or home, for 
 the truth s sake, but shall have heavenly reward. 
 The apostolic function is renewed in every ear- 
 
FALL RIVER 153 
 
 nest age. And he that scattereth is blest as he 
 that reapeth." 
 
 "I felt very sorry," he continues, " to leave 
 Fall River, in the depressed condition of the 
 Society ; but it could not be postponed, and I 
 trust to their finding some stirring person who 
 will really build them up outwardly without 
 failing of true spiritual ministration. I found 
 quite a regret at my departure on account of my 
 connection with the schools, where it seems my 
 services were esteemed, though I did not know 
 it. One thing I shall have more faith in now, 
 in the influence that may be exerted, and recog 
 nized, from a very quiet person. I thought that, 
 in a community like that of Fall River, a man 
 must take an active part in public affairs, be able 
 to speak in public meetings, and take the lead in 
 movements. 
 
 " I have never regretted that I went there. It 
 has been a good thing for me and I was very 
 independent there. I should have been glad if 
 it had proved the place for me, for I do not like 
 transplanting, and with each year one gains 
 power to do more in those which shall follow." 
 
VII 
 
 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE 
 
 IT was originally intended that the tour abroad 
 of Mr. Longfellow and his pupil should occupy 
 two years. But the youth s health became 
 seriously worse, and within a year they returned. 
 Great Britain had been visited, and they had 
 lived nine months in Paris, "the place," wrote 
 Mr. Longfellow, "which I cared least of all for. 
 But it is a fine spectacle, a spacious, bright, and 
 picturesque city, a well-dressed, cheerful, and 
 quiet people. I admire the varied beauty of its 
 streets, the grand scale of its public places, mon 
 uments, buildings ; the richness and hospitality 
 of its libraries, lecture-rooms, and galleries of art. 
 But it does not get hold of my enthusiasm, and, 
 after all, ugly London interests me more than 
 beautiful Paris." After their three or four hours 
 of daily home-study, the tutor and pupil would 
 explore the city together, seeing its works of art, 
 and searching out the associations of its history 
 in the rambles always so agreeable to Mr. Long 
 fellow. But Italy and Germany were given up, 
 
FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE 155 
 
 and they returned home with some disappoint 
 ment, after a year which, to the elder of the two, 
 had been, as he felt, " little more than a wasted 
 one," except for some physical reinvigoration. 
 
 Mr. Longfellow s letters from abroad were 
 naturally interesting and graceful, but those 
 scenes are now so familiar that no extracts are 
 here made from his correspondence. His Euro 
 pean tour was but the first of several, most of 
 them more delightful and profitable to him than 
 the first. 
 
VIII 
 
 CANDIDATING AGAIN 
 
 THE thread of Mr. Longfellow s correspond 
 ence with Mr. Johnson is taken up in the fol 
 lowing letter, which intimates his mode of life 
 for a period of somewhat more than a year. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 CANTON, December 26, 1852. 
 
 DEAR SAM, If writing a letter be a meritori 
 ous work, as I sometimes fancy, in the present in 
 stance, at least, I shall claim no credit ; for I am 
 fairly driven to it by lack of any other way of 
 spending my evening. I am as effectually cut off 
 from the usual resources of social intercourse as 
 if I were in that veritable Canton where all talk 
 is Chinese, and all books are printed in perpen 
 dicular columns of undecipherable characters. 
 At this Massapoag House I exhausted the news 
 papers last evening, and find no book except 
 Hoyle s Games, never very edifying to me, and 
 especially improper for Sunday reading. My 
 solitude is unbroken by any visitant. No hearer 
 
CANDIDATING AGALV 157 
 
 of to-day comes to thank me for thought or spir 
 itual impulse imparted ; no Cantonian lay-mon 
 itor to unfold the true theory of preaching ; not 
 even the parish treasurer with his rumpled ten 
 dollar bill, the faithful preacher s reward. For 
 tunately, when I forgot to put a book into my 
 Sunday parcel, I did not omit my little cylindrical 
 writing case, and in these desperate circumstances 
 I turn to it, and in my solitude to you. . . . 
 
 A call to preach at Bridgewater gave me an 
 opportunity I wanted to visit the friends at Fall 
 River and New Bedford ; to the former place I 
 wended on the Monday morning, and so warmly 
 was I welcomed, and so urged to stay and so 
 invited to dinner and tea, that I did not get away 
 to New Bedford till Saturday morning ; being 
 obliged to withstand manfully all entreaties to 
 stay and preach. I found the outward and visi 
 ble church with its horn verily exalted, liter 
 ally, inasmuch as the pinnacle, which lay so 
 forlornly prostrate and shattered when I left, has 
 been picked up and restored to its proper place ; 
 and figuratively, since various needful repairs and 
 alterations and paintings had been accomplished. 
 The exterior has assumed a fearful but popular 
 chocolate color called freestone ; the inside dreary 
 blankness of white wall is warmed into a neutral 
 tint more agreeable to the eye. I found the 
 
158 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 " new incumbent " taking hold quite vigorously 
 of these externals, he said the spiritual things 
 must next be looked after. . . . His wife is much 
 liked, and does wonders in visiting, etc. ; and 
 both were very friendly me-wards. . . . 
 
 Since, I have been at Cambridge, have preached 
 at Woburn, have seen Clough, author of the 
 "Bothie," who has come over here to live, hav 
 ing had to give up his fellowship because un 
 willing to take orders in the English Church ; 
 and heard Thackeray s lecture on Congreve and 
 Addison, a pleasant piece of literary criticism, 
 touching lightly and brightly along the surface, 
 but not sounding any depths ; with a pleasant 
 voice and quiet, gestureless delivery. 
 
IX 
 
 THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE 
 
 As a religionist and moralist, Samuel Longfel 
 low was a typical product of the transcendental 
 awakening. The influences of that movement 
 reached his receptive nature at a formative pe 
 riod, and found in it material peculiarly conge 
 nial. "He was," says Colonel Higginson, " one of 
 the most consistent of its representatives, never 
 having gone through contradictory and wavering 
 phases as many others of us did. But this very 
 fact shows the strength that lay beneath that 
 gentle mien." Certainly it was always charac 
 teristic of Mr. Longfellow that truth which he 
 accepted entered into the structure of his mind, 
 and was thenceforth an integral part of his in 
 tellectual and spiritual being. Born into the 
 clear but unstimulating atmosphere of the older 
 Unitarianism, his mind, peculiarly sensitive to 
 religious impressions, accepted quietly but ear 
 nestly its simple theological conceptions, as it 
 did the moral principles of the upright but un- 
 aggressive people among whom he was reared. 
 
160 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 The Unitarian Christianity of his early days had 
 laid aside the absurd and revolting features of 
 New England Calvinism, a triune God ; the 
 original depravity of man ; the eternity of punish 
 ment ; vicarious redemption, but it retained, 
 naturally, the general conception of the relations 
 of Deity and humanity which underlay all Chris 
 tian creeds. God was a Being of love. The 
 nature of man was good, not evil, although 
 individual men were indeed weak and erring. 
 The earthly life was a period of probation, of 
 which another stage of being would register the 
 results, in joy or pain, according to a strict, if 
 merciful, equity. Character was the principal 
 thing. Distrusting elaborate doctrinal schemes, 
 the Unitarians read the Gospels with more 
 sympathy and satisfaction than the Epistles, and 
 turned to them for guidance in life and conduct, 
 relying confidently on Divine Goodness to direct 
 in benevolence the issues of existence. They 
 recognized in Jesus a Saviour, but this chiefly 
 through the example of his conduct, the inspira 
 tions of his character, and the lessons of his lips ; 
 and they accepted from these an influence which, 
 on the moral side at least, was marked and 
 gracious. Orthodoxy freely testified to the per 
 sonal rectitude which was its result. 
 
 But in their general view of divine things, as 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE l6l 
 
 in that of the Orthodox, Deity remained, in effect, 
 for the Unitarians, a sovereign, outside creation, 
 directing the affairs of the world not only by 
 influences upon the hearts and consciences of 
 men, but by revelations through the words of 
 formal Scriptures, and by commissioned dele 
 gates, above all, by Christ, his Son. The 
 latter was, indeed, not Deity, nor had the Unita 
 rians a clear and long-tenable philosophy of his 
 nature. The human element in Jesus was gain 
 ing steadily in effective recognition. But he was 
 the highest of God s creatures, and was deemed 
 by most of the sect to have been preexistent to 
 the actual order of things. While human, he 
 was also of divine quality, and he was authenti 
 cated to his brethren as God s emissary by the 
 miracles which he wrought, and especially by his 
 own resurrection and ascension. He would be, 
 in some sort, their judge, as he was their exem 
 plar. But he was imitable ; it was possible to 
 follow him, for man was by nature good and of 
 free will as to conduct and motive. The suprem 
 acy of the reason the Unitarians also, and espe 
 cially, asserted ; yet they too often effectively, 
 and half - unconsciously, limited its sphere of 
 action to the interpretation of the revelation of 
 fact and truth which they assumed as existent in 
 the Bible. 
 
1 62 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 Conceptions and principles like these, too 
 largely intellectual, it may be, yet held with 
 real fervor of conviction, and often made very 
 gracious in the faith of the Unitarian people, 
 of pious clergymen like Dr. Nichols, and saintly 
 women like his own beloved mother, Samuel 
 Longfellow brought with him to the Divinity 
 School, little modified by the experiences of 
 college training, as the outfit of his religious life. 
 
 But about the time our youth left his home, 
 new voices began to be in the air. Channing, 
 indeed, had largely prepared the way for a new 
 order of conceptions by his magnificent vindica 
 tion of the dignity of human nature. European 
 thinkers and scholars were suggesting new prin 
 ciples in philosophy, and new methods in criti 
 cism. The nature of the Bible was beginning to 
 be differently explained. Its origin was inquired 
 into and its contents scrutinized more carefully. 
 Its miraculous element was questioned, and by 
 some referred to myth. The mind of New Eng 
 land was being leavened and emancipated by the 
 thought of Emerson. " The Transient and Per 
 manent in Christianity " were examined and for 
 cibly contrasted by a fearless iconoclast. Some 
 among the Unitarian ministers were soon preach 
 ing, quite freely, on natural principles of inquiry 
 into truth. The title " humanitarian " began to 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE 163 
 
 be applied to a small number who asserted the 
 nature of Jesus to be that of manhood, simply. 
 A school of thinkers presently arose who de 
 clared of the prevailing theological view that the 
 whole current conception of the relations subsist 
 ing between God and man, so mechanical and 
 arbitrary, was unfounded and impossible. God 
 is not outside the world, they declared, a mon 
 arch and law-giver. He is in the world. He is 
 the world and all that exists. All things, all 
 beings, are in Him. Man s relation to Him is 
 immediate, depending for the knowledge of it 
 only on the individual s power of apprehending 
 spiritual Deity, of coming into conscious com 
 munion with Him. He is not a great person 
 age, afar off on high. He is Infinite Spirit, all- 
 present Being. He is the "Over-Soul," "above 
 all, through all, in all." The truer symbols of 
 Him, or metaphors of his relation to human 
 spirits, are the circumambient atmosphere, invad 
 ing every aperture ; the all-pervasive light, illum 
 inating every crevice of nature ; ocean s vast 
 flood, pressing with each tide into all the rivers, 
 creeks, or smallest rills that open to receive it. 
 Man is God s microcosm, divine as He is divine, 
 being his offspring. In man s self are all the 
 laws of his being and life, and there to be studied. 
 Know thyself, and thou knowest all things. 
 
164 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 Virtue is health of soul. Rectitude is truth to 
 self. Man needs no outward, formal revelation, 
 nor is any such possible or conceivable. The 
 Spirit expresses itself spiritually. Man requires 
 only to become plastic to the ever-present influ 
 ences of God. Thus he receives all truth and is 
 helped to all progress. Jesus of Nazareth was 
 no specially created or endowed messenger from 
 God. He was only a child of God who had 
 attained his proper heritage. He was the ideal 
 man, type of mankind, become such through 
 entering into perfect harmony with himself and 
 God. If he wrought miracles, they were only 
 wondrous manifestations of the working of laws, 
 wholly normal, but inaccessible to impure or 
 undeveloped souls. The church is the company 
 of God s faithful ones, in every clime, who know 
 Him and are banded together for his worship 
 and service, which is the service of truth and 
 humanity. 
 
 Into conceptions like these, much of the best 
 and most active spiritual life of the time was 
 rising. They modified deeply the sentiments of 
 many who could not wholly break with the beliefs 
 in which they had been trained. But the change 
 was slow, and especially to the well-established 
 image of Jesus as the Christ, men and women 
 clung with tenderest fidelity. Samuel Longfellow 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE 165 
 
 parted very gradually with the forms of thought 
 and the pietistic associations which he brought 
 with him from his home. In the Divinity School, 
 he says, his views were more conservative than 
 those of Johnson. It was chiefly that the cast 
 of his mind was more sentimental and idealistic ; 
 that of his friend more purely intellectual. His 
 growth was slower than that of many of his 
 companions, and, as Colonel Higginson has said, 
 more steady, without reactions. It was less con 
 scious, because it was less by the intellectual and 
 formal recognition of truth, with consequent con 
 viction, and more an assimilation of it which 
 made it a part of himself. His relation to Jesus 
 was always that of a frank loyalty, full of venera 
 tion and admiring love, which never varied or 
 waned. He retained, as we have already seen, 
 through some years of his ministry, the Chris 
 tian phraseology and Christian associations, and 
 valued and used the Christian rites. As his 
 views became more distinctly theistic, he gave to 
 these traditions of Christianity new interpreta 
 tions, which sufficed him long, but they became 
 at last insufficient, and were gradually disused. 
 Of his preaching at Fall River there appear to 
 remain few relics. But, during that period, and 
 the year or two of repose and reflection which 
 succeeded it, his mind evidently developed in 
 
1 66 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 power, and his thought gained clearness and con 
 sistency. When Mr. Longfellow took up his 
 Brooklyn pastorate he was in full possession of 
 his religious point of view. His thought was 
 henceforth only to expand according to its own 
 well-established principles. 
 
 In January, 1853, he writes thus to Johnson, 
 from his beloved Portland :. . . " After a month s 
 wanderings, I had just come home, thinking to 
 rest awhile under the old roof. But I have de 
 cided to take the week between two Sundays 
 with Higginson, at Worcester, for the purpose of 
 doing up the business of the seaside book [ Tha- 
 latta ], which I want to have over, it seems so 
 trifling a thing to have one s thoughts busy 
 about in these days. But for old love s sake, I 
 would not have undertaken it. 
 
 ..." I find myself very much unsettled, both 
 as to plans for the future and doings for the 
 present. The idea flits before me that I may go 
 abroad again in the spring, to complete my tour. 
 Sometimes I think of a free church somewhere. 
 And then of a regular settlement in some pleas 
 ant town, with a gothic church and a parsonage. 
 Sometimes I want to make a tour through our 
 own country, visiting prisons and reform-schools, 
 and sometimes dream of getting myself made 
 chaplain in one of the latter, thus combining the 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE l6/ 
 
 satisfaction of my philanthropic and philo-paedian 
 propensities. 
 
 " Meanwhile nothing is accomplished save stray 
 Sunday preachings. I was last at W. I stayed 
 with a man who talked of the indigenuous 
 products of the country, and of the abundance 
 of empherial publications. He said that in 
 one thing S. was very unlike me, it was very 
 easy to follow him in his preaching! He re 
 ferred, Sam, to a sermon of the simplest sort on 
 Quiet from God ! Has B. sent you a copy of 
 his book ? He hopes it may save some congre 
 gation from the torture of listening to the theo 
 ries, the experience, or the moral wisdom of the 
 man who stands in their pulpit/ etc., etc. 
 
 " To such words what can I venture to add ? 
 I shrink into initials and scarce venture to sign 
 myself S. L." 
 
 From these uncertainties and crudities Mr. 
 Longfellow was soon to be relieved by coming 
 into the presence of the most important portion 
 of his life-work. During the next month, Febru- 
 ar y> J ^53 he mentions that he is to preach for 
 two Sundays at Brooklyn, N. Y., where he seems 
 to have preached once very soon after his return 
 from Europe in the preceding autumn. But he 
 hopes the church at Brooklyn will call Johnson, 
 
1 68 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 whom he thanks for urging them to hear him 
 self. " Sam, do go to Brooklyn, if they ask you. 
 It is such a place as you ought to be in. I don t 
 know about that Society especially, but there 
 must be a good element in it since they invited 
 you 
 
 Just a month later, March 7, 1853, he writes: 
 "I ought not to have let you learn first from 
 the papers that the Brooklyn committee asked 
 me to come again for six months. I said I would, 
 with the understanding that I might leave sooner 
 if I chose. I had really hoped they would ask 
 you. But they are not yet ready for your strong 
 meat. These babes in grace must be fed with 
 milk awhile. I shall try, at any rate, to make it 
 sincere milk/ Sam. ... I don t see how they 
 are to be satisfied with my preaching, after yours. 
 But it was thought that I, in some sort, united, 
 or might unite, the two wings. ... It seems 
 plain that the liberal party has the preponder 
 ance, and I am glad of that. ... As to a perma 
 nent settlement, I had, and have, some doubts, 
 first, whether I should be content to live in 
 so decidedly a city place ; secondly, whether I 
 should do for the place. I am so quiet a person, 
 have so little of the popular qualities ; am so 
 little calculated to lead a movement, to make 
 any tclat. Starr King seemed rather to be their 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE 169 
 
 ideal, and I am far enough from that type. But 
 I thought it might be good for me to be thrown 
 into a position making greater demands upon me. 
 I may develop some new phases ; at any rate, I 
 shall test myself. An arrangement for a few 
 months was, therefore, what I wanted. . . . 
 
 " Brooklyn is certainly a handsome city, and in 
 the summer its neighborhood must be charming." 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 BROOKLYN, Tuesday, April 19, 1853. 
 
 DEAR SAM, Just five words to say that I am 
 in Brooklyn, and ready to receive communica 
 tions. . . . 
 
 I "opened" with a rainy Sunday, a storm 
 from the East ; not symbolical, surely, of my 
 coming, and in the old lecture-room, which, 
 after all, suited me well enough, who like to 
 slip in quietly everywhere. Next Sunday we 
 expand into the new hall of the Athenaeum, of 
 whose size and consequent emptiness I am rather 
 afraid, remembering how we were crushed at 
 Fall River by our vacant whiteness. Sunday 
 morning, Sam, I woke up the veriest coward. I 
 was sure that I never could do the work that 
 was wanted and expected here. I wondered 
 why I had ever come. I was almost ready to 
 run away and hide myself in the littlest village 
 
170 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 I could find. But when I went to the hall I 
 found friendly faces, and felt drawn toward the 
 people ; kindly greetings followed, and by night 
 I was cheered and hopeful. But I foresee many 
 such alternations. 
 
 Four days later, Mr. Longfellow delivered his 
 noble sermon on " The Word Preached," to 
 which he refers in the following letter. The 
 function and true position of the pulpit were 
 never, perhaps, more forcibly, yet discriminat 
 ingly, exhibited and vindicated. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 BROOKLYN, May 18, 1853. 
 
 DEAR SAM, I am glad we published "Tha- 
 latta " because it brought me a letter from you. 
 Do you know how inexcusably silent you have 
 been ? I really began to have alarms as to possi 
 ble causes. But who gave you such extravagant 
 statements about " crowds in the new hall " ? 
 There are some seats left yet ! Still, the attend 
 ance is encouraging, both morning and after 
 noon. Yes, I could not get the evening service ; 
 but I think that during the hot months we shall 
 have but one. 
 
 As to " popularity " I cannot say. One thing 
 I know, I do not seek it. ... As far as I can 
 
THE BROOKLYN- PASTORATE 171 
 
 judge from my imperfect acquaintance with the 
 Society, it means to place itself decidedly upon 
 liberal and progressive ground. On our going 
 into the new hall I preached a sermon upon the 
 true position of the pulpit, especially in respect 
 to free inquiry in theology and to reforms in 
 society ; and another upon the true Unity, to be 
 sought not in form or creed, but in the Spirit, 
 urging the society to take its position distinctly 
 on the ground of absolute freedom ; and I was 
 glad to find they were willing to take this plat 
 form. At least, they wanted to print the ser 
 mons, and one gentleman who had been consid 
 ered most conservative was most strenuous in 
 this behalf. Perhaps you think that suspicious. 
 I can t help it ! I don t try to " please both 
 sides," you know. I suppose my natural position 
 is a mesotkesis. I sometimes wish I had more 
 " excess of direction," as Emerson calls it, and 
 more enthusiasm. But I will not leave people 
 in doubt on which side my sympathies are. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 BROOKLYN, June 16, 1853. 
 
 DEAR SAM, ... At Cambridge was a 
 pleasant dinner where Emerson, Hawthorne, 
 Lowell, Clough, and Charles Norton were the 
 guests. . . . 
 
1/2 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 I did not get a sight of the celebrated A. U. A. 
 Report ; I fancy it was but a statement of the 
 basis upon which the Association will carry on 
 its operations, and of no bearing upon those 
 out of the Association, not even a creed of 
 the denomination. My own connection with the 
 Unitarian body is so slight as hardly to be worth 
 the breaking. But, as you know, my real affini 
 ties are with the free men and churches. I want 
 it to be so with my Society, and therefore wish 
 they had not the name Unitarian. I shall ask 
 them to change it, if I remain ; but it is not a 
 point upon which I could insist. . . . 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 BROOKLYN, June 29, 1853. 
 
 DEAR SAM, ... I went to Cambridge, and 
 these good people took advantage of my absence 
 to give me a call. I have not yet been able to 
 make up my mind. While everything about the 
 position of the Society is attractive and encour 
 aging, I feel a strange want of energy and enthu 
 siasm for the undertaking. 
 
 I have been physically out of sorts since I have 
 been here. . . . So, personally, I don t feel a 
 great desire to stay. 
 
THE BKOOKLYX PASTORATE 173 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 PORTLAND, September 15, 1853. 
 
 DEAR SAM, . . . I have stayed all summer 
 through at Brooklyn, save a run to the seashore 
 now and then ; the hot days I fled to lovely Fort 
 Hamilton, which you remember. . . . Our good 
 people at B. were just beginning to come back 
 from summerings when I left last Friday. 
 
 They talk of an Installation. Will you not 
 come on ? I will have a "right hand," if you will. 
 And do write me a hymn, won t you ? I should 
 have dispensed with the Installation, as seeming 
 superfluous, but they have never had a minister 
 ordained unto them, and I said I should leave it 
 to their wish. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 BROOKLYN, September, 1853. 
 
 DEAR SAM, ... The Installation is to take 
 place the last Wednesday of October. Furness 
 is asked for the sermon, but has not yet replied. 
 Can *t you come on ? . . . Some have proposed 
 that the " right hand" should be given by the 
 president of the Society, which idea I like, but 
 I do not know what will be decided. There 
 was some hope of a liberal Orthodox minister 
 of Brooklyn being inveigled into assisting, not 
 
1/4 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 Beecher but Marsh is his name. Then, with 
 Chapin, we shall not be quite Unitarianized. 
 
 The Installation was celebrated on the evening 
 of Wednesday, October 26, 1853. The manner 
 of it was more conventional than the new pastor 
 would have chosen, who always distrusted things 
 formal, and would have preferred a simple service 
 of welcome and recognition in which he and his 
 people should chiefly participate, with perhaps, 
 for personal reasons, a few of his dear radical 
 friends. But for this the Society was, naturally, 
 not quite ready. It was in the usual order of 
 things that in this first important occasion of 
 their history the neighboring Unitarian churches 
 and ministers should chiefly share. Mr. Johnson 
 was unable to accept the invitation of the Society 
 to attend, nor did he send the hymn which had 
 been so earnestly besought by his friend from 
 his reluctant muse. Another friend of Divinity 
 School days, William Henry Hurlbut, who had 
 recently relinquished the pulpit through the 
 changes of sentiment prevalent at this time, was 
 represented in a hymn ; but among those who 
 took part in the services, only Rev. Dr. Furness, 
 the preacher of the evening, and, probably, Rev. 
 John Parkman, of Staten Island, who read Scrip 
 ture selections, were peculiarly in sympathy with 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE 1/5 
 
 Mr. Longfellow s characteristic views. The other 
 clergymen participating were Rev. Samuel Os- 
 good, of New York ; Rev. Frederick A. Farley, 
 D. D., of Brooklyn, who offered respectively the 
 introductory prayer and that of installation ; Rev. 
 Henry W. Bellows, of New York, who gave the 
 right hand of fellowship ; Rev. E. H. Chapin, 
 of the Universalist Church of New York, who 
 addressed the people ; and Rev. William Hall, of 
 Ireland, who closed the services with prayer. Mr. 
 Longfellow composed for this service his beauti 
 ful hymn " In the beginning was the Word." 
 
 Thus was formally cemented a union which 
 was to become a very close and perfect one. 
 Hitherto the Society, organized within only 
 three years, had acquired no marked character 
 of its own. There were present in it the two 
 tendencies at that time found in all Unitarian 
 churches, sometimes painfully struggling with 
 each other, the conservative and the radical ; 
 and of these the latter had scarcely the pre 
 ponderance. The congregation had, within the 
 two and a half years of its existence, united in 
 very urgently calling a man so typically conser 
 vative as Andrew P. Peabody (who had just re 
 ceived the degree of Doctor of Divinity, which 
 was to become so familiar in connection with his 
 venerated name). They had also called James 
 
176 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 Freeman Clarke, Horatio Stebbins, and Starr 
 King, all men of marked ability and elevated 
 character, but neither of them of the radical 
 and idealistic temper of Samuel Longfellow, 
 although Clarke in matters of social reform was 
 equally advanced and earnest, and even more 
 aggressive than he. But the aspirations of the 
 Society were shown in their seeking among such 
 men for their pastor, and there were in it a con 
 siderable number of men and women of superior 
 intelligence and strong traits, who were distinctly 
 progressive in their tendencies of thought, and 
 ready to welcome and promote their new pastor s 
 transcendental views. 
 
 When Mr. Longfellow began his temporary 
 engagement, the Society was worshiping in a 
 small and rather dismal hall. Its numbers also 
 were small, but there were warmth and hope, 
 and the new minister won his way rapidly to the 
 hearts of his people. His preaching attracted 
 much attention by its originality and vigor, di 
 rectness and simplicity, and especially by its 
 spiritual quality and its moral elevation. In the 
 ology he took, from the outset, a distinctly radi 
 cal position. Not wholly disusing, as yet, the 
 Christian phraseology or the Christian rites, he 
 preached a pure theism, in which the associ 
 ations of Christianity held their place only as 
 
TUP: BROOKLYN PAS TO KATE 177 
 
 illustrative of universal religion. He pretended 
 little loyalty to the Unitarian denomination, to 
 which he had, indeed, never manifested much 
 of the spirit of allegiance since his mind began 
 to unfold. Rather, on principle as by personal 
 constitution, he was distinctly and strongly averse 
 to organized methods in religion. He worked 
 best and most happily by himself, and could not 
 endure even the light harness of Unitarian as 
 sociations, now growing lighter daily. But the 
 friction was already great in the Unitarian body ; 
 quite a number of the most promising of its 
 younger clergy were breaking away from it ; and 
 more troublous times were to come. It was 
 not unreasonable, in one whose convictions were 
 already so distinctly formed, to prefer an inde 
 pendent position. Mr. Longfellow would gladly 
 have had his society take such a stand as John 
 son s " Free Church " had just done, at Lynn, 
 and that which his other friend, Higginson, had 
 just established at Worcester. Justly or unjustly 
 the Unitarian name signified to him not freedom, 
 but restriction, and the attitude of organized 
 Unitarianism appeared sectarian. The question 
 between individualism and association in reli 
 gious action has not yet been settled, and is not 
 likely to be for some generations to come. At 
 least in 1853, the position of its self-made exiles 
 
1/8 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 was not wholly unjust, although a more hope 
 ful and conciliatory temper might have induced 
 some of them to refrain from seeking personal 
 ease, at the cost of weakening the structure of a 
 religious body in which alone there was then any 
 promise of realizing the liberal principle in organ 
 ized relations. 
 
 The Second Society of Brooklyn, very natu 
 rally, did not assent to their pastor s suggestion 
 that they should drop the Unitarian name and 
 connection. He did not feel it a vital point, how 
 ever, and their relations began in a happiness 
 which was only to grow as the too few years of 
 their connection lasted. In his quiet way, he pro 
 ceeded with the presentation of his positive views 
 in religion and ethics, and very rapidly and per 
 manently he impressed upon his church those 
 moral and spiritual characteristics which were 
 dear to his thoughts of what a church should be, 
 and imparted to it much of the free spirit which 
 he longed to have it share. He was almost never 
 controversial, very infrequently calling up the 
 positions of others for refutation by argument, 
 but always preferring the simple statement of his 
 own view, to make what way it might among the 
 hearts of his hearers. His courage was perfect 
 because it was unconscious, a simple loyalty to 
 truth which it was impossible for him to withhold. 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE 179 
 
 But he shrank from discussions, and the eager dis 
 putation, almost inevitable for many years in the 
 assemblages of the Unitarians, was abhorrent to 
 him. While, therefore, his church continued to 
 maintain its place in the denomination, he asso 
 ciated sparingly with the clergy even of his own 
 neighborhood, and took no part in the practical 
 measures of the Unitarian communion, or in the 
 hot debates which were simultaneously arising. 
 
 His advanced theological position, and his view 
 of the true bond of religious union, Mr. Longfellow 
 had clearly presented at the outset of his tem 
 porary engagement as minister of the Brooklyn 
 Society. His first sermon after his installation 
 was a sequel and fitting pendant to the earlier 
 discourses. It was the keynote of his ministry. 
 He entitled it " A Spiritual and Working Church." 
 It defined and luminously portrayed a particular 
 church as a " society of men, women and children 
 associated by a religious spirit for a religious 
 work." That in his definition he should have in 
 cluded children was a token of one of his warmest 
 sentiments, but it also intimated the breadth and 
 completeness of his conception. Youth was not 
 merely in the tutelary charge of the church ; it 
 was an integral part of it. He expected the church 
 to have an elaborate organization for practical 
 services to society, and some of the agencies 
 
ISO SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 for moral and philanthropic work which have 
 since become most important in our churches 
 were anticipated in the suggestions of this dis 
 course. The Sunday-school, the study of the 
 Bible and of theological doctrines and questions 
 in religious philosophy, the printing of books 
 and tracts, the instruction of neglected children, 
 should be a part of its regular activities. He 
 would have its members study together such 
 questions as pauperism, drunkenness, crime, sla 
 very, and take active part in social reforms, as 
 well as in benevolent efforts. 
 
 It is interesting to note here that Mr. Long 
 fellow was by no means wanting in a sentiment 
 for the church in its large sense. His individual 
 istic attitude, while doubtless congenial to his 
 retiring nature, did not indicate a willing isolation 
 from other religious souls, nor the lack of human 
 sympathy, which then, perhaps, marked some 
 independent minds, especially those of a narrowly 
 intellectual cast. It was, practically, the enforced 
 position, in his time, of one fully possessed by 
 convictions like his ; or rather, it was a just illus 
 tration of the true attitude, as Mr. Longfellow 
 saw it, of each religious individual mind, that 
 of strict mental independence, the religious spirit 
 being the true bond by which one is united to 
 other children of God. He speaks somewhat 
 
THE BROOKL YN PASTOR A TE 1 8 1 
 
 wistfully of the unity in which the Roman Catholic 
 Church seems to associate its members. It claims 
 to make them " sharers in a general spiritual life, 
 transmitted only through itself. They are not 
 only recipients of the divine grace that resides 
 in its sacraments, but sharers in the virtue of its 
 saints and martyrs." " I have sometimes felt," 
 he says, " that, amid the isolation of our individ 
 ualism, I could envy the churchman his sense of 
 membership in a great body of brave and conse 
 crated men and women. I could appreciate the 
 strength and impulse it might be to him to feel 
 that he was one of such a host, and to look back 
 and around upon the long line of those who had 
 marched under the same banner, the sight of 
 whose folds had nerved so many hearts for 
 victory, and lighted up so many eyes filming in 
 death." But this yearning toward the Church 
 Universal could really be satisfied only by its 
 broadest interpretation, which includes not Chris 
 tendom only, but all humanity, that " Church 
 of the race, man in his religious relations, 
 which is founded on the grand idea of God which 
 lies at the root of all the various conceptions of 
 God." 
 
 The conception of a church as he proceeds to 
 set it forth is strictly a religious one. It was, 
 with Mr. Longfellow, no mere lectureship or 
 
1 82 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 academy, as some would have made it, nor even 
 a mere philanthropic association. The functions 
 of these were included in its scope ; but, charac 
 teristically, the church existed to develop in men 
 the consciousness of God, and of their relation 
 to Him. "A church must justify its existence 
 by this, that it holds as its special thought not 
 its exclusive possession, but its special thought 
 the idea of God. This it is to apply over the 
 whole domain of life. With this it is to meet all 
 private needs and confront all public emergen 
 cies. By this it is to try all spirits, tempers, and 
 aims ; by this to judge all customs, institutions, 
 laws. ... Its work is to make vital the thought 
 of the living and infinitely present God, in the 
 life of its members and of society." ... Its piety 
 " includes morality and humanity, as man is 
 included in God." 
 
 Such an organization is held together, natu 
 rally, only by a " spirit, as distinguished from 
 doctrine and form. Some creed or system of 
 opinions about religion is almost universally the 
 centre around which churches are gathered, or 
 else some rite. Now, I do not deny that similar 
 ity of opinion is a bond of union. We are drawn 
 to those who think like ourselves. But it is not 
 the strongest or deepest bond. It is easily over 
 ridden by spiritual sympathy, or annulled by the 
 
THE BROOKL YN PASTOR A TE 1 83 
 
 want of that. Neither do I mean to undervalue 
 correct opinion as making clear the way to right 
 feeling and right action, though quite as often 
 right feeling and action will lead to correct opin 
 ion. Nor do I deny their value to religious 
 rites. But a unity sought in uniformity of belief, 
 or of ritual or organization, is but superficial. Nor 
 can it be permanent unless it destroy freedom 
 and growth, and with them life. We must look 
 deeper for the bond of living and abiding unity. 
 And we shall find it where it has always existed 
 amid the diversities of belief and organization, 
 and under all their strifes, in that unity of spirit 
 which is alone the bond of an enduring peace. 
 This unites, while creeds and forms sunder, and 
 shut off as many as they shut in. Alien intel 
 lects are brethren here, and walls vanish." 
 
 Is not this the principle, the gradual approx 
 imation to which has actually measured the 
 progress of the Unitarian body since 1840, and 
 which is effectually working at present in the 
 Orthodox sects to set them also free, and to real 
 ize among them the true church ? 
 
 But no church exists merely for itself. This 
 society of religious men, women, and children is 
 organized for practical ends, for service. " To 
 work with God, and for God, should be the great 
 and consecrated aim of every church ; to make 
 
1 84 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 its associative life contribute to the accomplish 
 ing somewhat of the Divine purpose ; to lend its 
 aid to redeeming the world from its sins, its 
 wrongs, and its wretchedness ; to reforming the 
 age and the community from its special evils, and 
 unjust thoughts, and institutions ; to advancing 
 its spiritual elevation and moral purification. In 
 short, every church should work for the coming 
 of the Kingdom of Heaven, the reign of justice 
 and unselfish love, of freedom and peace, and 
 holiness and brotherhood. . . . Nothing would 
 be so sure to keep life in a church as its making 
 itself a working church. Nothing would be so 
 sure to keep it filled with the Spirit. Nothing 
 would so bind its members together, nothing 
 so surely tend to make them think alike, if that 
 be desired, as uniting in common labors. It 
 seems to me that a church has no right to be, 
 unless it can thus make good its claim. The 
 world has a right to put to it the question of the 
 Jews : What sign showest thou that we may 
 see and believe thee ; what dost thou work f 
 It has a right to expect from it wonders of feed 
 ing and healing and restoration." 
 
 We cannot forbear quoting the eloquent lan 
 guage which follows, showing the high ideal that 
 lived in this preacher s mind of the institution he 
 was set to serve : 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE 185 
 
 " It seems to me that whenever a new church 
 is formed the angels in heaven ought to sing 
 again, Now shall there be peace on earth and 
 good will among men. And God should say/ Now 
 is my Kingdom nearer, and my will more truly 
 to be done on earth. And Jesus should rejoice 
 in spirit and cry, Behold new laborers for the 
 harvest ; now shall men learn to love God with 
 all their hearts and strength, and their neighbor 
 as themselves. And old prophets hearts should 
 be stirred anew, as they proclaim, Now shall 
 men beat their swords into ploughshares, and deal 
 their bread to the hungry, and undo the heavy 
 burdens, and give justice to the fatherless, and 
 break every yoke. 
 
 " It seems to me as if, whenever a new church 
 is formed, earth s suffering, sinning, wronged, and 
 perishing ones should lift their heads, and a new 
 hope light up their eyes, as they cried, You will 
 help us, you will save us ; in the name of the 
 God you say is our Father, the Christ you say 
 is our Redeemer. And all good men s hearts 
 should be gladdened ; and earth s tyrants and 
 tempters, and plotters of wrong and framers of 
 unjust laws, should cower and tremble, as before 
 a new moral force rising up to conquer them. Is 
 it so ? I will not doubt that every church does 
 something to this end. But the whole creation 
 
1 86 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 still groaneth in pain, waiting for the manifesta 
 tion of the sons of God." 
 
 He thus, in concluding, expresses the principle 
 of organization on which he assumes that his own 
 society will take its stand : 
 
 " We will take for our basis not a creed, but the 
 spirit. We will agree to differ in our theological 
 opinions and beliefs, while we will strive, in a 
 common love of the truth, after higher and 
 clearer views of it. Believing that only through 
 freedom can the truth be reached, we will put no 
 shackles on any, nor place any obstacle, even of 
 coldness or suspicion, in the way of freest think 
 ing. And regarding this freedom as more precious 
 than uniformity of belief, we will make it more 
 prominent than any doctrine. We will assume 
 no responsibility for opinions, and impose none. 
 We may hold the most widely differing beliefs 
 about the nature of God s being, while we strive 
 together to deepen our reverence and love for 
 Him, to yield a more complete obedience to his 
 law, and win a profounder consciousness of his 
 presence and his peace. We may hold, as we 
 now do, different views about Jesus, but we will 
 be united by a common reverence and love for 
 his spirit, and find in his life, however regarded, 
 redemption from our sins, and quickening to our 
 piety and our humanity." 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE l8/ 
 
 We have not space to follow in detail the 
 course of the ministry thus heralded. " Happy 
 are the people whose annals are slender." There 
 would be few striking incidents for us to narrate. 
 Mr. Longfellow s temperament and all his meth 
 ods contributed to a ministry peaceful in spirit 
 and outwardly uneventful. It is perhaps suffi 
 cient if we say of the Brooklyn pastorate that 
 it was the consistent development in fact of the 
 principles which, in his opening sermons, he had 
 laid down ; the realization, in an encouraging 
 degree, of the ideals he then and ever afterwards 
 unswervingly held up. Always he preached 
 religion ; whatever his particular topic, its inter 
 pretation was a religioits one. The sense of 
 divine things, of the presence of God in human 
 affairs and with the private soul, was constant 
 and vivid with him. It was too sacred for ful 
 some and passionate expression. It impressed 
 a reverential quiet upon his devotional services, 
 and gave a subdued earnestness to his preaching, 
 which was only the expression, in every variety 
 of form and through every topic, of the one 
 great truth of God. No subject of human wel 
 fare was foreign to his pulpit. On political and 
 social questions he never failed to speak, as occa 
 sion arose, with frankness and fervor. Yet he 
 loved best the simple themes of the personal and 
 
1 88 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 inner life, of domestic and social relations, of 
 faith and conscience and mutual love and service. 
 To reveal God in the private experience ; to show 
 the divineness of common things ; the oppor 
 tunities of the highest self-culture in the nar 
 rowest and most ordinary conditions ; to fortify 
 rectitude and awaken piety and aspiration in 
 common hearts ; to check worldliness in the 
 energetic and successful ; to show the young the 
 nobler meanings of which life may be full, 
 these were the instinctive and congenial aims of 
 Samuel Longfellow as a preacher. 
 
 In the pastoral relation his guiding purpose 
 was the same, quietly and unofficiously to diffuse 
 the same truths, to cultivate the same religious 
 spirit, as opportunities of influence were offered 
 him in personal intercourse with his people. He 
 had no formal methods. He shrank from, rather 
 than intruded, specific religious suggestions and 
 pietistic conversation not called out naturally by 
 the circumstances of the moment. But his mind 
 was dominated by the religious consciousness, 
 and he carried the atmosphere of it with him. It 
 shaped and colored all his thoughts, and gave 
 grace to his bearing and sweetness to a voice 
 which habitually breathed the tone and accent of 
 veneration. Where his testimony to religious 
 truth was invited or challenged, it was borne with 
 
THE BROOKL YN PAS TOR A TK \ 89 
 
 frankness and solemnity. Were the substance of 
 religious truth violated, it could rise to abhor 
 rence or even indignation. As the vicissitudes 
 of life among his people offered particular occa 
 sions of influence, he brought them the con 
 solations, the encouragements, or the rebukes 
 of religion with a spontaneous, simple direct 
 ness which gave them a convincing power over 
 men s hearts. He was a sunny, refining pres 
 ence amidst their joys, and made himself as a 
 member of each particular household by the ease 
 and delicacy with which he entered into its in 
 terests and happinesses. One who had known 
 a heavy affliction said, " He came to me when I 
 was utterly prostrated, weeping bitterly with my 
 fatherless boys. He said not a word, but drew 
 them to his side, with his arms about them. He 
 did not ask us to pray, I only knew that he was 
 praying. He seemed to lead me with my chil 
 dren into the presence of God, and bring about 
 us his protection. I felt no longer wholly deso 
 late ; I knew that Love was about me still." 
 
 Mr. Longfellow especially liked unconven 
 tional and familiar intercourse with his people. 
 He was fond of " dropping in " at an evening 
 meal, or for a passing call, often brief, to leave a 
 friendly word or some kindly token. Flowers 
 were as dear to him always as in boyish days, 
 
IQO SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 and conveyed for him many a message of affec 
 tion or sympathy. Only knowing from a friend 
 that in a certain house there was a young invalid 
 near her end in consumption, he almost daily left 
 a little bunch of spring blossoms, to her great 
 delight and comfort. " On the anniversary of my 
 great sorrow," said one of his parishioners, " he 
 did not make me a formal visit, but early in the 
 day he brought to my door some violets, and I 
 knew that they meant he remembered what I 
 was feeling, and that his heart was with me." 
 With one friend, upon their birthday anniversa 
 ries, he exchanged clover - blossoms, real or 
 pictured, to which some former pleasant expe 
 rience gave peculiar suggestiveness. He loved 
 to encourage a fondness for art and literature, 
 and many a young person had the mind opened 
 to these sources of delight and culture by an 
 apt suggestion of his at a happy moment. The 
 photograph of some fine picture or statue ; a 
 little volume of poetry or stimulating essays ; at 
 some fortunate opportunity, of religious writings ; 
 would be the means of reaching a receptive mind 
 and heart with stimulus, or direction, or help. 
 
 The happy home in which Samuel Longfellow 
 had been brought up left on his mind a deep 
 impression of the sacredness of all the family 
 ties. For the marriage relation he cherished a 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE 191 
 
 peculiar reverence, and, though he never entered 
 into it, he seemed to apprehend by intuition its 
 deepest meanings. The ceremony of marriage he 
 always conducted in a manner original to himself, 
 seeking to adapt its impressions to the particular 
 occasion, that it might not fail of full significance. 
 Of the other religious rites, he especially loved 
 that of baptism, celebrating it in the broadest 
 spirit, as a service of gratitude to God for the 
 precious gift of a child, as still more a child of God, 
 and of self-dedication, on the part of the parents, 
 to the sacred task of rearing it religiously and 
 morally. The communion service, which he 
 maintained for some years after his settlement 
 at Brooklyn, he conducted in the same spirit as 
 formerly, as a memorial rite, calculated to keep 
 alive the honor and love of one whom he always 
 revered as of ideal moral and spiritual qualities 
 of character. He at length discontinued the 
 custom, however ; not from any change of feel 
 ing towards it, still less towards its object, on his 
 own part ; nor apparently from an impression 
 that it tended to become a formality ; but rather, 
 it would seem, because he had come to feel that 
 its effect was too intense, possibly, that it was 
 difficult to prevent its influence from being of 
 too mystical a character. 
 
 Naturally, Mr. Longfellow interested himself 
 
192 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 especially in the religious culture of the children 
 and youth of his Society. He early prepared 
 with much care a manual of devotional services 
 adapted to Sunday-school use. He superintended 
 the conduct of the school, taking part in its 
 exercises of worship, teaching a class of adults 
 or older youth, and making himself well known 
 and dear to the children of all ages. He had a 
 happy tact in composing for them little addresses, 
 half sermon, half story, some of which remain, 
 and are very graceful and suggestive. He joined 
 in their amusements with full zest, enjoying and 
 promoting picnics and the winter festivals, which 
 he was full of expedients to make entertaining. 
 He possessed, in a singular degree, the art of con 
 veying useful thoughts to the young, almost with 
 out stating them. " He attracted all boys," writes 
 one of his young friends of this period. " We felt 
 a curious confidence in his interest in us, which 
 boys always appreciate and repay in affection 
 to their elders." Getting this hold upon their 
 hearts, his influence flowed out to them sponta 
 neously, as religion, or morals, or good taste, and 
 won its own way. He did not, by any means, 
 limit his sympathy to the children of his own 
 church circle. " That kind gentleman," a little 
 fellow called him, who knew him, but did not 
 know his name, 
 
THE BROOKL YN PASTOR A TE 1 93 
 
 An innovation of a wholly original character 
 was presently devised by Mr. Longfellow, which 
 not only established itself in the worship of his 
 own church, but spread, seldom in so perfect a 
 form as his own, to others. At the outset he 
 had proposed to his people to substitute an even 
 ing service for the afternoon one then usual. 
 At length they yielded to his desire and he pre 
 pared a novel order of service, chiefly devotional 
 in its aim, and in which music was the leading 
 mode of expression, to which he gave the name 
 . " Vespers." By this time the Society was es 
 tablished in its permanent church home, and 
 with sympathetic, highly-trained musicians, the 
 new form of worship was made very beautiful 
 and very impressive. He yielded to the wish of 
 his people in admitting anything in the way of 
 a sermon, and this he reduced to a meditative 
 address, the devotional quality of which, in his 
 hands, harmonized it with the occasion and saved 
 the unity of effect at which he aimed. His own 
 taste and deep feeling were largely a condition 
 of the full success of the Vespers, which, while 
 a pleasing relief to the old reduplication of the 
 morning service, were seldom elsewhere so im 
 pressive, or seemed so genuine as a devotional 
 act. They needed, for their perfect effect, the 
 influence of a leader with whom worship was an 
 
IQ4 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 habitual mental attitude, and who combined with 
 the instinct of religion the art of a poet and of 
 a musician. Mr. Longfellow consulted with his 
 choir over the details of each service, carefully 
 selecting and adjusting the musical pieces, and 
 the scriptural and poetical selections. Respon 
 sive exercises were at the time almost unknown 
 in Unitarian and other Congregational churches, 
 and became common at the suggestion given by 
 these services of the Brooklyn Society. 
 
 The Vesper service-book was republished in 
 many editions. The order was very simple, con 
 sisting, besides music, almost wholly of selections 
 and adaptations from Scripture. Mr. Longfel 
 low introduced several exquisite evening hymns 
 from the "Roman Breviary." Two, at least, of 
 these paraphrases were his own, the now familiar 
 "Now on sea and land descending " and "Again 
 as evening s shadow falls." 
 
 Early in 1857 there began to be suggestions 
 of a project of the society which was very inter 
 esting to Mr. Longfellow, both for its practical 
 importance and because it gave scope to his 
 artistic tastes. It appears first in the following 
 letter : 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE 195 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 BROOKLYN, May 4, 1857. 
 
 DEAR SAM, You are a wretch ! and Mrs. 
 Jackson x thinks so too, though she does not use 
 that expression. 
 
 By a wretch, I mean a person, or a " party," 
 who goes back to Salem and simultaneously to 
 silence. I fear it is even Nirwana, and that I 
 shall no-more-sea you. Write, write, Sam, and 
 convince me that you are not absorbed and 
 annihilated. I should be sorry to think of you 
 yet, or ever, as one who comes not again. 2 
 
 As you don t take the " Inquirer," you probably 
 don t know that " Rev. Mr. Longfellow, pastor of 
 the Second Unitarian Church, has had an attack 
 of the varioloid, but is now convalescent." We 
 had a regular siege of six weeks. Three weeks 
 of varioloid, then as I was getting out, an attack 
 of lumbago and three weeks more, all leaving 
 me with weak eyes and a weak throat. Now 
 I am as well as ever, saving a little hoarseness. 
 The worst was, that good, devoted Mrs. Jackson 
 
 1 The lady with whom he at this time boarded. 
 
 2 Johnson parried this thrust in a letter of a few days later : 
 " Nirwana, let me tell you, for I wish maliciously to spoil that 
 heartless joke of yours, does not mean no-more-sea (or see !), 
 but no more blowing of wind. So please blow no more wind 
 at me ! " 
 
196 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 caught the sickness and suffered more than I, 
 but she, too, is well again. 
 
 Perhaps you have, also, not heard that the 
 Second U. S. of B. propose erecting an inexpen 
 sive chapel. This they have been supposed to 
 be doing at any time during two years past. 
 Now they have begun subscriptions. The money 
 does not come as fast as we should like, but we 
 don t despair. . . . 
 
 You should see the new study ! 
 
 In another letter he gives more details. The 
 building " chapel," Mr. Longfellow always 
 preferred to call it " is to be in a simple Nor 
 man style, of brick and Caen stone," to "hold six 
 hundred people," and to cost $13,000, the land 
 being $2,000 more." 
 
 In February, 1858, he is able to write that the 
 chapel will soon be dedicated, and he beseeches 
 Johnson for a hymn. " Do not disappoint us, 
 but seek the mood and let the thoughts and feel 
 ings sing themselves." "The chapel," he adds, 
 " with some things that might have been better, 
 is yet very charming ; open, social, simple, and 
 fair." In fact, owing to the financial stress of 
 the time, it had become necessary to curtail the 
 plan of the building in some important respects, 
 although its final cost was far greater than had 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE 197 
 
 been intended. The material ultimately em 
 ployed was wood, and a lowered roof impaired 
 the beauty of the interior. But it was cheerful 
 and hospitable, and after their long abode in hired 
 halls it was a joyful event to minister and people 
 to enter into a church of their own. 
 
 The dedication was celebrated on the evening 
 of March 2, 1858. The exercises were simple, 
 freed largely from the formalities with which the 
 congregation were not quite willing to dispense, 
 four years before, on the occasion of the installa 
 tion. They and their pastor conducted the ser 
 vice, he preaching the sermon. It was at once 
 transcendental, yet intensely practical, if it be 
 practical to exhibit the most elevated truths as 
 applicable to the whole tenor of men s actual 
 lives. Its theme was "The Doctrine of the 
 Spirit," intimated by Paul in his great saying in 
 the Epistle to the Ephesians, " One God the 
 Father of all, who is above all, and through all, 
 and in all." Substantially, the discourse was a 
 vindication of the reality of the spiritual world 
 and spiritual relations ; of the intimate presence 
 of God in the outward world, in human affairs, 
 and in receptive hearts. By a contrast, then less 
 familiar than it has happily become, on the one 
 hand with the crude metaphysical conception 
 underlying the old theology, of a God outside the 
 
198 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 universe, directing its concerns by arbitrary 
 methods and laws, and on the other hand with 
 the ground taken by the positivists, who, dealing 
 only with phenomena, find no God at all, it 
 asserted, on the testimony of human conscious 
 ness, the absolute, infinite spiritual Deity ; One 
 not as individual, but as universal. " Our spirits 
 teach us of spirit ; and our spirits, if we trust 
 them, will, out of their very limitations, rise to 
 the idea of the unlimited and infinite. . . . Let us 
 think of God as the all-pervading life, the all-em 
 bracing energy ; which lives at every point, and 
 wherever it lives is thought, is love, is spirit, 
 and so is person. He, the Infinite, contains 
 and embosoms all. He, the Absolute, is the 
 ground and being of all ; without whom nothing 
 could be, in whom all things are, and from whom 
 all things continually proceed. The laws of na 
 ture . . . are but the uniform method through 
 which the forces of nature act ; the forces of 
 nature are but one force, one power, the Al 
 mighty God himself. He is not outside the 
 world, but at its centre . . . always present in it, 
 always creating it, the life of all life, the ever- 
 present cause of all motion, ... a Spirit every 
 where, a present power. 
 
 " Oh, with what sacredness does this thought 
 of * God, through all invest the world ! We walk 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE 199 
 
 amidst miracles. Every spot is holy ground. The 
 distinctions of sacred and profane disappear. 
 Nothing is common or unclean. How noble 
 ought our lives to be in such a world ! How 
 sacred our daily work ! . . . We are working 
 among materials and fabrics whose very atoms are 
 held together by the present power of God. 
 
 " But are we to accept this spiritual philosophy 
 in regard to outward nature, and go no further? 
 . . . Shall these mute, impercipient material 
 forms ... be informed by the Spirit, and shall 
 we for a moment hesitate to believe and declare 
 that God must much more dwell in his loftier 
 work, his nobler manifestation, the human soul ? 
 . . . No ; . . . made in his image, to the world 
 of spirits like ours it is given to be a perfecter 
 manifestation and revelation of God than all the 
 lower Universe can be. ... Through this spir 
 itual nature man is a child of God, the Father. 
 As child of God he shares his nature, is of the 
 same substance with Him, consubstantial, as 
 the old theologians used to say, is therefore 
 capable of being inspired by Him. . . . Our rela 
 tion with God is in no sense mechanical, but 
 purely vital. . . . Inspiration and revelation, there 
 fore, are normal and necessary facts. God s 
 spirit is but God himself, man s spirit is man him 
 self. ... In our highest spiritual action, the divine 
 
2OO SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 and human are not distinguishable. . . . Wherever 
 God s Spirit is, there is inspiration, and wherever 
 truth is opened to any mind, there is revelation. 
 
 "This is thoroughly Christian doctrine. In 
 Jesus we recognize a soul which by native purity 
 and spirituality, and by voluntary consecration 
 and obedience, was opened, unclogged, and trans 
 parent to the inflowing and transmission of the 
 Eternal Light. His soul, quickened of God, was 
 in turn a quickening spirit to the souls of men, 
 and is so still. In this way he was mediator, 
 though not sole mediator; son of God, though 
 not the only son of God. . . . His inspiration was 
 not peculiar in its nature ; was special only in its 
 degree and quality. It was not arbitrary, but 
 came from obedience to conditions. . . . What 
 was actual in him is possible to all souls after 
 their quality. . . . Christianity, if it means any 
 thing, means this : the possibility of a vital, in 
 timate union of God with the human soul. 
 
 "It is interesting to note how every awaken 
 ing of fresh, religious life in the world has begun 
 with the proclamation of this central, vital truth, 
 the essence of all religion, the proclamation 
 of a living God, a present Spirit. . . . Wherever 
 this has died out of the faith of men, its place 
 usurped by the tradition of a Spirit that has been, 
 of a God retired behind his works, of inspiration 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE 2OI 
 
 foreclosed and prophecy shut up in a book, then 
 when worship has become untrue, and life pro 
 fane and irreligious, some new prophet has been 
 stirred to utter anew the old, eternal word, God 
 is, GOD LIVES ; now, here, within you, He moves, 
 He speaks ! To-day, if ye will hear his voice. 
 
 ... u So every great movement of moral re 
 form begins with a proclamation of God s law 
 written in the conscience, and of a present judg 
 ment. 
 
 " And to-day, friends, if we would have life in 
 our churches, if we would stay this desolating 
 flood of materialism, this demoralizing prevalence 
 of dishonesty and compromise, and kindle anew 
 the dying flame of faith in human rights, we 
 must preach, first and last, the Holy Spirit THAT 
 is, the Living God, who has to do with the affairs 
 of men as intimately now and in this, as in any 
 past age or land ; whose word our highest thought 
 is ; whose will is found in our highest sentiment 
 of right, which we must not dare to disobey ; a 
 God whom we must not attempt to leave out of 
 anything that we do ; who is infinitely near to 
 inspire, to redeem, and judge us now ; from whose 
 presence we cannot go, for that presence is in us 
 and in all ; the central pervading and encompass 
 ing Force, yes, and the embosoming Love, the 
 in-working Justice, condemning and bringing 
 
202 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 to naught all that is not of his Spirit and after 
 his law ; saving, establishing, giving victory and 
 eternal life NOW to whatever is his own." 
 
 Only two more years passed for Mr. Longfellow 
 in the proclamation of truths like these to his 
 Brooklyn congregation. Even at the date of the 
 dedication he was physically weary and unwell. 
 He wrote afterwards to Mr. Johnson that he 
 would gladly have laid down his service even 
 earlier, but could not leave his people while they 
 were struggling with the problem of permanently 
 establishing the society and securing their new 
 building. But he was longing for change and 
 rest, and when the congregation was well housed 
 and at home in the new "chapel," he felt that 
 he must take a long period of repose from work. 
 "Now they are tolerably prosperous and well 
 established, and ought to be able to go on by 
 themselves, and find a minister whom they will 
 like as well or better than me." 
 
 This would have been almost or quite impossi 
 ble, it would seem, for the large majority of the 
 Society. Yet it is a part of the truth of those 
 times, infected with the moral corruption of 
 which Mr. Longfellow had spoken in the dedi 
 cation sermon, the " great atheism which went 
 from end to end of this land," with " its endless 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE 203 
 
 compromise and servility," that even among 
 his own progressive and thoughtful people there 
 were some who had been disturbed and even 
 angered by the bold assertions from their pulpit 
 of the "higher law," which politicians were then 
 flouting; its earnest protests against the sin of 
 slavery, and warnings of the evils to arise from 
 complicity with its wickedness. 
 
 What surprises one now is that discontent with 
 such righteous utterances came by no means 
 always from the corrupt and reckless of our 
 Northern communities, but often, as in Mr. Long 
 fellow s congregation, from some of the best peo 
 ple, so blinded was that generation. " You will 
 be surprised to hear," he writes to Mr. Johnson 
 in January, 1860, "and disappointed, as I cer 
 tainly was, that a sermon which I preached upon 
 John Brown gave offense to a number of my 
 congregation. I believe three families have left 
 us. ... I was charged with doing all I could 
 to break up the Society, with destroying my in 
 fluence, etc. O ye of little faith! . . . Cer 
 tainly the truth must be preached but the more 
 thoroughly ! < What is the chaff to the wheat ? 
 saith the Lord. " 
 
 The tenor of the John Brown sermon may be 
 gathered from the following letter of Mr. Long 
 fellow s to one of his congregation who requested 
 a copy of it. 
 
204 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 BROOKLYN, January u, 1860. 
 
 MY DEAR Miss B., My sermon on John 
 Brown was not written out ; and the manuscript 
 would be of no avail to you. 
 
 It was a hearty tribute to the noble qualities 
 and aims of the man ; a man of qualities rare in 
 these days, and therefore needing to be honored 
 in pulpits, especially while men of mere talent 
 are eulogized. 
 
 I spoke of him as a man brave, honest, truth- 
 telling, God -reverencing, humane, a lover of 
 liberty. 
 
 In the presence of such genuine virtues, one 
 would hardly have the heart to blame the meth 
 ods, even. So I simply said that his method did 
 not seem to me to be wise, or the best. As an 
 ultra peace man I deprecate the use of destruc 
 tive force even to secure great rights. But the 
 world believes in the weapons of war, and they 
 who honor the heroes of the American Revolu 
 tion have no right to blame John Brown because 
 he used weapons of war in the last necessity. 
 
 Before the earnestness of such a martyr spirit, 
 I feel how little most of us are doing and suffer 
 ing in behalf of the slave. 
 
 My sermon, I am sorry to say, was not cor 
 dially received by my people. I was suffering 
 under physical depression, and did not do justice 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE 205 
 
 to my own feelings. Yet there was not a word 
 which I wish to take back, but only to say 
 more strongly. 
 
 I feel that most momentous times are opening 
 upon us. It seems to me like the time before 
 the breaking out of the Revolution. I do not 
 doubt the result. God give us heart to be faith 
 ful. . . . Truly yours, S. L. 
 
 It is, perhaps, not surprising that any expres 
 sion of admiration and sympathy for a soul so 
 heroic yet erratic as that which dwelt in the 
 person of John Brown should have been misun 
 derstood in a most critical time, when men at 
 the North were alive with anxiety at the possi 
 bility of war, and should have been deemed an 
 indorsement of the "grand old fanatic s" quixotic 
 undertaking. Nor would the friction from such 
 sources have occasioned Mr. Longfellow s resig 
 nation of his pulpit, had not personal reasons 
 been in themselves controlling. He had the 
 support, in his antislavery views, of a large pro 
 portion perhaps the majority of his congre 
 gation, and the respect and affection of all. The 
 Society had taken an impress from his character 
 and thought which, under congenial successors, 
 it was never to lose. But he had labored as long 
 as in justice to himself he could, and was entitled 
 
2O6 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 to release. On June 24, 1860, he preached his 
 farewell sermon, from Deuteronomy xv. i : "At 
 the end of seven years, thou shalt make a 
 release." " It was a noble exposition," says his 
 latest successor, "of his views and feelings on 
 the greatest themes. . . . Then they were the 
 views and feelings of a little company, now of a 
 great and ever-greatening host. It had been a 
 ministry," adds Mr. Chadwick, " of wonderful 
 refreshment, beauty, tenderness, and spiritual 
 grace." In his final review of it Mr. Longfellow 
 identifies the central thought by which it had 
 always been inspired and shaped : " the intimate 
 nearness of the living God, the Universal Spirit. 
 ... I have found that my preaching, beginning 
 from this, would perpetually come back to it. 
 Whatever topic of thought or life I would unfold, 
 tJtis was found lying at the heart of it. Was it 
 some truth, his being was the ground of it. Was 
 it some duty, his will was the obligation and the 
 power of it. Was it some trial, it was his oppor 
 tunity ; some grief, it was the opening into his 
 peace. Was it life, it was to walk in communion 
 and service with Him. W T as it death, it was to 
 go on with Him to communion and service 
 beyond. This great thought seemed thus to 
 radiate into every direction and path of life, and 
 all paths led back to it. 
 
THE BROOKLYN PASTORATE 2O/ 
 
 " Thus it has been the centre of my preaching, 
 the thought and name of God. Others would 
 put Christ there. I could not put him there, for 
 I found there always a greater than he." 
 
 He proceeded to a luminous review of his 
 teachings in regard to human nature, Jesus, 
 immortality, the Bible and the nature of reli 
 gion ; explaining the grounds of his dissent both 
 from Orthodoxy and from some of the controlling 
 Unitarian conceptions of the period. His exqui 
 site and discriminating characterization of Jesus 
 would now well express the view prevailing among 
 Unitarians, nor could anything more profoundly 
 appreciative be uttered. " By so much as you 
 remove Jesus from humanity in your thought," 
 he concludes, " by so much you remove him from 
 men s comprehension and so from their needs. 
 But call him MAN, and in that name include that 
 indwelling of God which is the native privilege 
 of spiritual humanity, and you speak plainly the 
 truth which the creeds have been stammering, 
 and throw clear light upon the nature and destiny 
 of all men. Say that Jesus was God manifest, 
 Incarnate Deity, if you will ; but do not fail to 
 say that every consecrated, obedient, illuminated 
 son of man is, in precisely the same sense, in 
 however different degree, the same. Whoso 
 ever is led by the Spirit of God, the same is the 
 Son of God. " 
 
208 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 Two other characteristic passages of this noble 
 discourse we append : 
 
 " With such views of man and of God, and of 
 their intimate relation, my views of life have been 
 cheerful and sacred. I have ever urged upon 
 you this sanctity of life in its small as well as its 
 great occasions, in its work and its play as well 
 as in its prayer and its sorrow. This world thus 
 becomes one mansion of our Father s house, full 
 of his beauty and his presence, our childhood s 
 home ; and not an exile, a prison, a hospital, a 
 vale of tears, and journey to the tomb ; not even 
 a mere probation and preparation for another 
 world. Life a noble opportunity for spiritual and 
 manly growth and the doing of good ; heaven and 
 its angels close to us, if we will see and hear ; 
 and death but the passing on, in the unbroken 
 continuity of our being, into a life beyond, whither 
 we carry all of ourselves unchanged into fresh 
 opportunities and fresh influences. That the life 
 beyond is the simple continuation of the inward 
 life here, I have felt a growing conviction ; the 
 same essential character, the same spiritual laws, 
 the same Man and the same God. But I have 
 had more to say to you of the present life than 
 of the future, deeming it now of more impor 
 tance." 
 
THE BROOKL YX PASTOR A TE 2OQ 
 
 " And I have always urged upon you Right 
 eousness as an essential part of Religion. I have 
 wished you to feel the insufficiency of the de- 
 voutness which was not an inspiration to right- 
 doing. I have urged you to cultivate Conscience, 
 and feel the sacred -obligation of Duty, and the 
 supremacy of the Divine Law, as revealed within 
 you. I have urged honesty, integrity, veracity, 
 as a part of your religion ; and pressed the claims 
 of a high moral standard amid the demoraliza 
 tions of this exciting life. And not only private 
 morality, but the claims of society ; that you 
 should add to its justice, and help its humanity, 
 and aid its reformations till that kingdom of 
 heaven be come, wherein their rights shall be 
 given to man, to woman, to child ; to the poor, 
 the tempted, the criminal. 
 
 "And I have not failed to urge upon you the 
 claims of national Righteousness, without which 
 no people can be free, can be strong, can be 
 truly prosperous. Against the great immorality 
 of our nation, its great disobedience to the divine 
 law, Slavery, I have not failed to utter my pro 
 test. I have urged upon you the critical charac 
 ter of this question among us ; how the liberties 
 and moral life of our land are involved in it ; yes, 
 and the personal manhood of every one of us. 
 Of its barbarism and its despotism I have not 
 
210 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 failed to speak ; of its frequent and frightful cru 
 elties, and its essential and perpetual injustice; 
 that I might engage your heart and your con 
 science to work for the righting of this great 
 wrong, the removal of which would ennoble and 
 aggrandize every part of our country, and let it 
 breathe its first full, free breath. Of the duty 
 of the pulpit in this regard I have never felt a 
 moment s doubt ; but with me it has been a 
 desire and a privilege, even more than a duty, to 
 speak what was filling my heart and conscience. 
 Nor have I ever seen what right politics in the 
 pews, and commerce in the pews, could claim to 
 silence the proclamation of National Righteous 
 ness in the pulpit. Some of you have not been 
 able to sympathize with all I have said on this 
 theme ; and some that were with us have, in 
 the exercise of their unquestioned liberty, gone 
 away from the hearing of this word. I would 
 rather they had stayed and been converted. But 
 I wish to say to-day that you have fully respected 
 the freedom of this pulpit ; that through all, no 
 persuasion or inducement has been addressed to 
 me to do anything else than preach my full con 
 viction of this matter. I am glad, and you are 
 glad, to-day, that I can say this." 
 
 So ended Mr. Longfellow s too brief, yet faith 
 ful and influential ministry to the church in 
 
THE BROOKL YN PASTOR A TE 211 
 
 Brooklyn. Persevered in through no little phy 
 sical trial, it closed prematurely, and yet not 
 before a rich harvest was ripening. He had put 
 into it the deepest faith and feeling of his heart ; 
 the richest fruits of his experience and study. 
 He had loved his congregation, had been much 
 at home among them, and parted from them 
 affectionately and regretfully, yet amidst the 
 happiness of most tender expressions of their 
 regard and their sorrow at his retirement. He 
 was to meet them often again, and always to 
 find assurance that his memory was kept green 
 and remained dear. 
 
 Speaking of Mr. Longfellow at the celebration 
 of the Society s twenty-fifth anniversary in 1876, 
 his lifelong friend, Octavius B. Frothingham, 
 said : l 
 
 " He was a man of men, one of ten thousand, 
 a man the like of whom for infusing a pure 
 and liberal spirit into a church has never been 
 surpassed ; full of enthusiasm of the quiet, deep, 
 interior kind ; worshipful, devout, reverent ; a 
 deep believer in the human heart, in its affec 
 tions ; having a perfect faith in the majesty of 
 conscience, a supreme trust in God and in the 
 laws of the world ; a man thoroughly well in- 
 
 1 As quoted by Rev. Mr. Chadwick, in his sermon on Mr. 
 Longfellow, December, 1892. 
 
212 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 structed, used to the best people, used to the 
 best books and the best music, with the soul of 
 a poet in him and the heart of a saint ; a man 
 of a deeply, earnestly consecrated will ; simple as 
 a little child, with the heart of a child ; perpetu 
 ally singing little ditties as he went about in the 
 world, humming his little heart-songs as he went 
 about in the street, wherever you met him. . . . 
 He was one of the rarest men ; in intellect free 
 as light, having no fear in any direction, able to 
 read any book, able to appreciate any thought, 
 able to draw alongside any opinion ; hating no 
 body, not even with a theological, not even with 
 a speculative, not even with a most abstract 
 hatred ; he did not know in his heart what hatred 
 meant ; he loved God, his fellow-men. ... He 
 was always in an attitude of belief, always in an 
 attitude of hope, brave as a lion, but never boast 
 ing, never saying what he meant to do or what 
 he wished he could do, but keeping his own 
 counsel and going a straight path, ploughing a 
 very straight furrow through a very crooked 
 world. He was as immovable as adamant and 
 as playful as a sunbeam. He wrought here, as 
 the oldest of you know, with a singleness of pur 
 pose and a singleness of feeling that knew no 
 change from the beginning to the end." 
 
AFTER BROOKLYN 
 
 MR. LONGFELLOW sailed for Europe in com 
 pany with his beloved Johnson, June 30, 1860. 
 The story of this tour, so long as they remained 
 together, was briefly told in the Memoir of Mr. 
 Johnson, which Mr. Longfellow prepared after 
 his friend s death in 1882. The summer was 
 spent in Switzerland, largely in pedestrian travel. 
 In autumn they passed down to Nice, and at the 
 beginning of winter made their way to Florence, 
 where they remained until spring, when Mr. 
 Johnson started homeward through Germany, 
 and Mr. Longfellow went down to Rome and 
 Naples. 
 
 The most interesting incident of this period 
 was the entire recasting, during a rainy month 
 at Nice, of the hymn-book, which had contin 
 ued an object of much interest, of frequent refer 
 ence in their correspondence, and of intermittent 
 scanty profit to the friends up to this time. But 
 Johnson, especially, had long been dissatisfied 
 with it, on grounds of doctrine. Even before a 
 
214 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 second edition was issued, he had written that 
 he was dismayed to find that there were at least 
 sixty hymns in it which he could not conscien 
 tiously use. These were, of course, such as at 
 tributed a peculiar quality and special authority 
 to Christianity, and recognized a supernatural 
 element in the personality of Jesus. Of such, 
 the collection was now thoroughly winnowed, 
 to the sacrifice of many hymns, in form among 
 the most beautiful. Even the exquisite " Christ 
 to the young man said," by Henry W. Long 
 fellow, was scrupulously excluded. The places 
 of some of those omitted were filled by new 
 ones, either selected, as before, from many 
 sources, or written by the editors, some of 
 them especially for the new book. In all, the 
 revised collection embraced about twenty of Mr. 
 Longfellow s and half as many of Mr. John 
 son s acknowledged hymns ; but, besides these, 
 a number of their own compositions were in 
 serted as anonymous, from motives of modesty. 
 
 This purely theistic hymn-book, perhaps the 
 only one of its kind, was published in 1864, as 
 " Hymns of the Spirit." Poetically, and in ar 
 rangement, it may have been an improvement 
 on the " Book of Hymns." But its doctrinal lim 
 itations were, of course, a bar to its adoption in 
 many quarters, and it probably never reached so 
 
AFTER BROOKLYA T 21$ 
 
 wide a circulation as the former collection had at 
 
 length attained. 
 
 TO MR. R. H. MANNING. 
 
 VIENNA, October , 1861. 
 
 I blame myself for not having, in all these 
 months, sent any reply to your letter. I know I 
 was very glad to get it and to hear your views at 
 the time about American affairs, with which I 
 heartily agreed ; desiring very much that the 
 Free States should be freed from the political 
 and moral drag-weight of the South. I wonder 
 if you are still a disunionist, or like Wendell 
 Phillips now, a union-with-emancipation-ist ? I 
 am one or the other, I am not perfectly clear 
 which. I suppose that to be a disunionist is 
 counted rank treason now in the United States. 
 I can t help it. I am not a secessionist. I count 
 the Southern States to have acted in a manner 
 utterly unjustifiable, politically and morally* 
 both in their method of declaring themselves 
 independent without political cause, and without 
 consent asked of their confederates, and also in 
 their seizure of federal property and outrage upon 
 the federal flag, thus compelling the government 
 of the United States to resort to arms, and so, 
 by their rash unreasonableness and violence, 
 driving the country into war. The government, 
 
2l6 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 on the contrary, acted with the greatest forbear 
 ance and moderation, which could not have been 
 carried farther except upon the extreme peace 
 principle that war is never justifiable. This, of 
 course, the government did not believe, and, 
 believing in war, I don t see how it could do 
 otherwise than it has done. I don t believe in 
 war yet ; that is, I don t believe it to be other 
 wise than a very barbarous, cruel, and unjust way 
 of settling a difference, or even of establishing a 
 just cause. And what I have read of this war in 
 America does not change my feeling. These 
 skirmishes and guerrilla fights, from which no 
 thing results but death ; this shooting of single 
 men with deliberate aim ; this rejoicing over the 
 number of the enemy killed; this burning of 
 houses and the like, do not look even like the 
 primal "right of self-defense" of which the "I 
 am a peace man " people talk ; and I am not yet 
 prepared to put my peace principles into a paren 
 thesis, as the ministers do. How it might be if 
 I were under the pressure of the excitement at 
 home I won t say. I remember that John Brown 
 shook me a little, but not off my feet. However, 
 granting war, I don t see how our government 
 could do otherwise than it did. And the upris 
 ing of noble enthusiasm at the North looked 
 grand to me, and the lavish outpouring of money 
 
AFTER BROOKLYN 21 / 
 
 in a people whom we had begun to fear to be 
 growing to love money more than anything. A 
 flood of self-sacrificing enthusiasm cannot pass 
 over the land without morally enriching it. It 
 would have been well if this same disposition to 
 sacrifice money, or the prospect of it, to ideas 
 had been sooner shown. If men in the last years 
 would have voluntarily borne the temporary loss 
 of business to which they are now compelled, for 
 the sake of principle, the war might have been 
 avoided, because the slaveholders would not 
 have been led on by continual concessions, to 
 that height of audacious exaction which has made 
 them at last rebels. It would be a great shame 
 and sorrow if after all this suffering and cost 
 the great evil should not be thoroughly reached 
 and eradicated. T would be best, certainly, that 
 emancipation should come voluntarily from the 
 masters ; but if they cannot be persuaded, they 
 must be compelled, in the imperative interest of 
 the general safety. And, singularly enough, the 
 war puts into the hands of the general govern 
 ment the exceptional power which in times of 
 peace it could not venture to claim. 
 
2l8 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 PARIS, February 20, 1862. 
 
 DEAR SAM, Your letter reached me just at 
 the end of my Berlin visit, which I prolonged a 
 little beyond my first intention, partly through 
 inertia and the difficulty I always have in getting 
 away from any place, and partly because I was 
 having a good time in that quiet, sober, drab- 
 colored capital, which suited my taste very well, 
 though I should like a little more picturesqueness. 
 I did not learn so much German as I had hoped 
 to do, and cannot yet dispense with the Worter- 
 buch. Still, I can read it with tolerable ease. 
 As to speaking, I learned but little, having no 
 German companions, but only Americans. I 
 debated with myself about going into a German 
 family, and decided that it might be more irk 
 some than profitable, considering the chances of 
 not hitting upon pleasant people. With Mr. 
 Grimm I talked English, as I think he understood 
 it better than my German, and I could not very 
 well comprehend his. I did not visit him as 
 much as I should have done, partly because he 
 lived a good way off, and the weather was gen 
 erally bad, and partly because his wife was a good 
 deal sick. I had a very pleasant talk with her 
 (or from her, for she does not understand Eng- 
 
AFTER BROOKLYN 2 19 
 
 lish) the evening before I left. She told me 
 about her mother s (Bettina s) statue of Goethe, 
 and showed me a bas-relief of hers, full of the 
 sweetest classic spirit ; two figures representing 
 classic song and the Volkslied. Mr. Grimm was 
 always pleasant, refined, and kind. Another 
 German family which I became acquainted with 
 only just before I left was the Mendelssohns, rela 
 tives of the composer. The young lady is a 
 reader of Channing and Emerson ; and there is 
 a brother-in-law, a hearty, kindly Englishman, a 
 hunter of chamois and a reader of the " Times," 
 who believes thoroughly in property and posses 
 sion, and counts that, if a nation wants a seaport 
 for her commerce, that is sufficient reason for 
 keeping it, and that Austria is quite right in not 
 giving up Venice. Also, that there will have to 
 be a property qualification for the franchise in 
 America, before long. I heard a few lectures 
 and a good many concerts. I found, on counting 
 the concert-bills which I had kept, that I had 
 been to twenty-five ! not to mention operas. I 
 was in musical clover, you see; but lest you 
 should fear for my purse, let me say that nearly 
 all were Liebig s twelve-and-a-half-cent concerts. 
 I made the acquaintance, among other things 
 new, of Beethoven s Sinfonie in B-dur, the 
 Fourth I think ; it is altogether lovely, and must 
 
220 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 rank, perhaps, even above the Fifth. Then the 
 singing of the Dom-chor, some fifty boys and 
 half as many men, was something wonderful ; 
 fine old church music, some of it very elabo 
 rate, with perfect unity and without accompani 
 ment. There was also one concert of the Man- 
 nergesangs-Verein, a thousand and more voices 
 singing national songs, etc. How you would 
 have enjoyed this ! Indeed, it is plain that our 
 winter together ought to have been in Germany. 
 And the climate proved not severe, but rather 
 mild ; very little snow, but a good deal of rain, 
 and almost constant clouds ; a little gloomy, it 
 must be confessed. By the way, do you remem 
 ber a Mr. L., who used to be one of your congre 
 gation ? A son of his, a youth of seventeen, was 
 my chief ally and companion in Berlin. We 
 happened to meet every evening where I went 
 to get my cup of cocoa and read the papers, and 
 we became fast friends. I found him frank and 
 intelligent, with his head full of the new ideas, 
 as was indeed natural, his father being a hearer 
 of Parker, and his mother, now in the spirit-land, 
 one of the early abolitionists, a friend of Garrison 
 and Phillips. I lived at a very comfortable hotel, 
 pleasantly and centrally situated, for a dollar and 
 a quarter a day, including fire (in a high white 
 porcelain stove) and lights, and with a dinner of 
 
AFTER BROOKLYN 221 
 
 eight courses ! And have been in pretty good 
 health, save something of the Florence trouble, 
 and at the end a very severe cold, which still 
 besets my lungs, and which I hope to get rid of 
 in Spain ! Yes, Sam, thither am I going, 
 day after to-morrow, with some twinges of the 
 purse-strings, I confess (and premonitorily of the 
 epigastric or splanchnic nerves at the prospect of 
 a five days sea voyage from Marseilles to Malaga). 
 But I trust to finding a smooth Mediterranean, 
 and believe that a hundred and fifty dollars will 
 keep and bring me back to Paris at the end of 
 the month, which is all I allow myself for see 
 ing Granada, Gibraltar, Cadiz, Seville, Cordova, 
 Madrid, and what lies between there and Ba- 
 yonne and Bordeaux. T is but a run, you see, 
 but I thought I should be sorry if I had not made 
 it. I shall endeavor to make economies during 
 my month of April in Paris. Then will come 
 May on the Rhine, at Heidelberg and Nurem 
 berg, which, unfortunately, I omitted when I was 
 on my way to Munich, but cannot think of losing. 
 Then through Belgium to England, and home 
 perhaps in August, and then ... I begin to 
 feel, Sam, as if I had almost too long a vacation. 
 But what vacation ever made a school-boy want 
 to work ? ... By the way, at the last moment I 
 came near losing Spain, after all, " for conscience s 
 
222 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 sake," Sam. For, on the morning of the day 
 when I am finishing this, going to see our Amer 
 ican Consulate for needed visa of passport, I am 
 told I must take the oath of allegiance to the 
 United States, and on reading the words of the 
 oath, I find it includes a pledge to support " the 
 Constitution without any mental reservation." 
 Of course I could not do that ; and I said so, 
 explaining my position about the Fugitive Slave 
 clause. Finally the Consul, respecting my scru 
 ples, and seeing that the object of the regulation 
 would be obtained by a declaration of allegiance to 
 the government, waived the rest, and so I saved 
 my conscience and did not lose the Alhambra. 
 
 How, at this fag-end of my sheet and no time 
 for another, can I write of American affairs ? I 
 was glad to get your views. Our government 
 cannot, of course, proclaim emancipation except 
 where their army is present to enforce it. Nor 
 ought they to do it, I think, without wise and suf 
 ficient measures to protect the emancipated, who 
 would otherwise become the victims of their for 
 mer masters, now exasperated by what they would 
 think interference in their dearest interests. For 
 the good of the blacks, I should much prefer that 
 the slaveholders should themselves emancipate. 
 Perhaps the government might do as the Russian 
 Emperor has done, who, decreeing emancipation, 
 
AFTER BROOKLYN 22$ 
 
 has given the nobles two years to arrange the mat 
 ter with their serfs. I met in the railway train a 
 young Russian who told me about them. He said 
 his family had arranged to give to each serf family 
 six Russian acres of land, and to employ them to 
 cultivate the rest with the payment of one third 
 of the profits to the owner. He told me that the 
 nobles were about to ask or demand liberty and a 
 constitution for the whole people, and to claim that 
 the privileges of their own class should be ex 
 tended to all citizens. I told him I thought that 
 was really noble. 
 
 In August, 1862, Mr. Longfellow returned to 
 America, after what always remained in his mind 
 the most profitable and satisfactory of his Euro 
 pean tours. 
 
 TO SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, September 11, 1862. 
 
 DEAR SAM, How can I excuse myself for 
 having been at home three weeks without having 
 written you a word ? I assure you it has not been 
 that I have not thought of you often ; but you 
 know something of my infirmity as to letter writ 
 ing. . . . To-morrow I am going to Brooklyn for 
 a week or so. There is an autumnal convention. 
 But I go more, you will guess, to see my friends. 
 
224 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 This morning I heard Emerson at the Music 
 Hall. It was good ; not especially powerful. 
 With all drawbacks, I think we can t but rejoice 
 greatly at the President s proclamation. That 
 little paragraph, that stands so simple, plain, di 
 rect, after the shambling introduction, it is the 
 death-warrant of slavery. Blessed are our ears 
 that they hear ! I should have liked that little 
 paragraph all by itself. I should have liked the 
 ist of October instead of the ist of January. 
 But surely we can wait a little, and meanwhile, 
 as Sumner said, immediate emancipation follows 
 every advance of our army to every man who will 
 come within its lines. Of course we should have 
 been glad if freedom had come to the slave by the 
 virtue of the North rather than by the madness of 
 the South ; by the free gift rather than the com 
 pulsion of his master ; if it had been proclaimed 
 as an act of national justice rather than a military 
 necessity. But we know, too, that behind it all, 
 as a divine law is working, so is a moral sentiment. 
 Think of it, Sam, slavery abolished in one day ! 
 Could we have dreamed it, when we went over the 
 ocean two years ago ! John Brown just hung for 
 attempting by arms that liberation which the 
 President of the United States by arms now pro 
 claims ! Two years before, the army and navy of 
 the United States joining to take back Anthony 
 
AFTER BROOKLYN 22$ 
 
 Burns to slavery ; now army and navy pledged to 
 protect the liberty of every escaping black man ! 
 
 At about this time, Mr. Longfellow appears to 
 have written the following interpretation of the 
 symphony to which he refers in the last letter but 
 one, which had so much impressed him, and which 
 continued to be one of the musical compositions 
 which he peculiarly admired. 
 
 TO MRS. G. L. s. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, 1862. 
 
 Here is the story that framed itself in my mind 
 as I heard the Fourth Symphony. You will see 
 that it is an allegory of human life. 
 
 The call and aspiration of youth, postponed 
 sometimes amid the joyousness of light-hearted 
 days, and supplanted sometimes by the persua 
 sions of religious quietism, hiding indolence under 
 the guise of devotion ; forgotten sometimes amid 
 the excitements of wordly " getting and spend 
 ing," or the hot fever of sensual pleasures ; but 
 still calling, and not always in vain, to the 
 awakened and ashamed soul, which not too late 
 grasps anew its early purposes and renders a sad 
 dened but redeeming service in the great battle 
 of humanity. 
 
226 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 BEETHOVEN S FOURTH SYMPHONY. 
 
 I. ADAGIO ALLEGRO VIVACE. 
 
 A youth is awakened at early morning by the 
 voices of his comrades summoning him to go forth 
 with them on a holy crusade. At first their call 
 mingles broken and vaguely with his dreams. 
 But soon he rouses himself and joins them, and 
 they set out, high in spirits and fresh in hope, 
 gladdened by the clear morning air and the bright 
 sunshine. A part of the troop press eagerly for 
 ward ; a part linger in lively conversation, or stay 
 to talk with the reapers in the field and with 
 the blithe maidens who are binding the sheaves. 
 Among these is the youth. And now, before he 
 is aware, he finds that the morning hours are 
 passed and the sun is high and hot in the heavens. 
 The cool shadows of a pine forest invite him to 
 turn aside and rest. 
 
 II. ANDANTE CANTABILE. 
 
 As he enters the wood, strains of sweet and 
 solemn music fall upon his ear. It is the hymn 
 of the monks from the neighboring Convent 
 Chapel : 
 
 In the world is sin and sorrow, 
 Youth to-day, the grave to-morrow. 
 All its toil is emptiness, 
 
AFTER BROOKLYN 22/ 
 
 All its hopes are hollowness. 
 Life is short and judgment near, 
 Come, thy soul for death prepare ! 
 Come, where holy saints have trod, 
 Give thyself to prayer and God ! 
 Life hath danger, life hath fear ; 
 Here is peace, for God is here. 
 
 The youth yields his spirit to the soothing 
 strain. He enters the chapel ; he kneels in 
 prayer ; he loses himself in sweet and dreamy rev 
 erie. Suddenly the tones of a trumpet rouse him. 
 It is the host of his comrades which, pursuing its 
 winding way, is now passing the foot of the cliff 
 upon which the chapel is built. Those tones re 
 call him to the high purpose of the morning. He 
 leaps up to go. But on the threshold a tender 
 strain of music arrests him. 
 
 Mortal, whither wouldst thou go ? 
 Vain are all things here below ; 
 Life has danger, life has fear ; 
 Stay, for Peace and God are here ! 
 
 For a moment he hesitates ; but again the 
 trumpet sounds, already more distant, and he 
 rushes forth to overtake his comrades. 
 
 III. SCHERZO. 
 
 His road soon brings him into the streets of a 
 city. The host have already passed through. 
 
228 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 But in the public square the crowd of market-day 
 delays his steps. Unconsciously he loses himself 
 in the eager stir of the buying and selling; he 
 scatters his gold with the rest. The afternoon 
 passes ; the lamps are lighted ; the sound of merry 
 music is heard. A youth, crowned with vine- 
 leaves, stands at the door of the inn and invites 
 him in. He enters and joins the revelers. Girls 
 with bright eyes and flushed cheeks bear him 
 away in the whirl of the dance ; he kisses their 
 hot lips, he drinks with them the red and golden 
 wine, he joins in their jovial songs. At last, 
 overcome with the excitement, he sinks into a 
 heavy sleep. 
 
 IV. ALLEGRO NON TROPPO. 
 
 It is broad day when he awakes ; he throws 
 open the window to breathe the fresh air. He 
 sees below him on the plain the host, gathering 
 in battle array. The morning sun shines on 
 their banners and their burnished arms, as they 
 await the onset. Smitten with shame and re 
 morse, he renews his resolve. He hurries forth, 
 hoping yet to be in time to take part in the 
 glorious conflict. As he comes nearer, ever 
 louder grow the confused sounds of the battle as 
 it wavers to and fro. He rushes into the midst ; 
 he seizes a weapon from a fallen soldier, for 
 
AFTER BROOKLYN 22Q 
 
 his own he has lost. The combat grows fiercer 
 and wilder, then there is a pause ; the sounds 
 grow faint in his ears, the lines grow dim ; he 
 has fallen, struck with a mortal blow. His 
 comrades bear him aside. The battle is renewed. 
 A shout startles his dying ear. It tells that the 
 field has been won. He lifts himself with diffi 
 culty, and with his last breath joins the cry of 
 Victory ! 
 
XI 
 
 OTHER JOURNEYS ABROAD 
 
 MR. LONGFELLOW visited Europe three times 
 subsequently. In 1865, he was accompanied by 
 a nephew, passing the winter of that year chiefly 
 in Paris, and the succeeding summer in Switzer 
 land. In the spring of 1868, he left America 
 with two sisters, his brother Henry and his 
 family, and Mr. Thomas G. Appleton, of Boston, 
 and during more than a year s time traveled 
 through Great Britain and over a large part of 
 the Continent. The duty of directing the move 
 ments of the party and managing its business 
 was confided to his somewhat unpractical, al 
 though experienced hands. His absent-minded 
 ness and absorption in the beautiful or interest 
 ing scenes through which they passed led to 
 some amusing misadventures. The number of 
 umbrellas left resting against the trees of Swit 
 zerland, after he had concluded hasty sketches of 
 its scenery, became a standing jest among his 
 companions. But his enthusiasms surrounded 
 all their way with a romantic charm, and to the 
 
OTHER JOURNEYS ABROAD 2$I 
 
 younger travelers their journey became an educa 
 tion in history, art, and literature. The associa 
 tions of each place visited were made vivid by his 
 own eager interest and his familiarity with them, 
 and the pains and skill with which he arranged 
 the details of the tour to give them full and even 
 dramatic effect. In Scotland, with some of his 
 young relatives, he walked many miles to identify 
 the scenes of" Rob Roy " and "The Lady of the 
 Lake." In England, he led them through the 
 Lake region and to the home of Wordsworth, of 
 whose poems he was naturally a warm admirer. 
 The moment the party reached Florence, they 
 were carried, regardless of fatigue, to see the 
 Casa Guidi by the light of a propitious moon. 
 There, and at Naples, they traced the localities 
 of " Romola " and "The Last Days of Pompeii," 
 stimulated by his lively imagination and his 
 excitement over some memento discovered, or an 
 engraving or photograph secured as a prize to 
 illustrate either novel. An occasional contretemps 
 afforded amusement at the cicerone s expense. 
 He had, long in advance, arranged their arrival 
 at Venice for the night of the full moon, and 
 great was his chagrin when they were welcomed 
 to the city by a pouring rain, and crowded into a 
 gloomy, covered omnibus-gondola for their first 
 voyage on the Grand Canal. At Fliielen, in 
 
232 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 memory of William Tell, the children and their 
 uncle purchased an apple, the seeds of which 
 were ultimately to be planted in America. As 
 their journey took them next day into Italy, they 
 were not allowed to cut it upon alien soil, but 
 had to carry it, with some inconvenience, for two 
 or three weeks, until their return into Switzerland. 
 There, with much ceremony, the apple was 
 opened, and there proved to be not a single seed 
 in it! 
 
 But he set to his young companions a finer 
 example which did not fail to make its impression. 
 " His interest was not only in the romantic and 
 picturesque, but still more in present human 
 concerns. Everywhere he had friendly chats 
 with the peasant people, with the old vergers in 
 cathedrals, and with innumerable young men 
 and boys. At Lake Como and Sorrento he made 
 friends with the young boatmen, and drew out 
 their confidences about their business and home 
 and love affairs, into all of which he entered with 
 the most lively sympathy." 
 
 Mr. Longfellow s last tour abroad was one of 
 some months in 1888. He was accompanied by 
 a young friend, Mr. William M. Fullerton, in 
 whose society he took great pleasure during these 
 later years, and whose recollections of this jour 
 ney are of the same delightful kind as those just 
 
OTHER JOURNEYS ABROAD 233 
 
 described. His familiarity with localities in 
 Europe was thus extensive, but there remained 
 regions, as Egypt, Palestine, Greece, which he 
 wistfully regretted never to have seen. His 
 letters from Europe were, naturally, charming ; 
 full of appreciative descriptions of scenery, works 
 of art, music, and meetings with interesting 
 persons in many places. Comments upon polit 
 ical and social matters manifest his deep interest 
 in the condition of the European peoples, and 
 frequent references to public affairs at home 
 . show that, wherever he roamed, his heart re 
 mained untraveled. Lack of space has prevented 
 extended extracts from a delightful correspond 
 ence, but the following passages cannot be 
 omitted. 
 
 PARIS, November 16, 1865. 
 
 DEAR SAM, I must tell you something of my 
 week in England. . . . Sunday morning I went 
 to hear Martineau at the " Little Portland Street 
 Chapel." But it was not the Martineau of 
 "Where is thy God ?" or, "Let any true man 
 go into silence." He spoke from the other side 
 of his unreconciled mind. It was a defense of 
 tradition as the ground of religion as against 
 argumentative reasoning and individual inspi 
 rations. It was the ground of the churchman 
 against the rationalist and the mystic. I was 
 
234 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 much disappointed. Conway says, however, that 
 Martineau comes out very finely at conventions, 
 meetings of the ministers, and the like ; but why 
 should n t such a man commit himself, once and 
 for all, to his best thought ? 
 
 In the afternoon I went to Westminster Ab 
 bey to hear Dean Stanley preach on Lord Palm- 
 erston, who had been buried in the Abbey the 
 day before. The crowd was very great, and our 
 seats were too far off to hear without difficulty ; 
 but from what I heard, with the report in next 
 day s paper, it seemed to be as honest a sermon 
 as could be preached, I suppose, in Westminster 
 Abbey. There were open moral scandals in 
 Palmerston s life ; no principle but expediency 
 in his politics. So Stanley said he should not 
 touch upon political aspects, and personal religion 
 he " should leave where our Church leaves it, 
 with that Saviour who is able to subdue all to 
 himself." So he went on to speak of his good 
 qualities, and the honesty was in the absence of 
 fulsome eulogy, in the disclaiming of any genius 
 or remarkable abilities, but praising only his 
 faithful and industrious use of his powers, his 
 uniform kindliness, his fairness to opponents, his 
 cheerful hopefulness, and his devotion to Eng 
 land. All which he held up to the imitation of 
 " young men " and others. Of course, I think 
 
OTHER JOURNEYS ABROAD 2$ 5 
 
 that perfect honesty required him, if he spoke of 
 the man at all, to speak of everything ; for the 
 " Church " certainly has, if anything, a moral 
 judgment to pronounce ; and how would the old 
 gray walls have been transfigured by that highest 
 honesty, even beyond the glory of that jeweled 
 rose-window through which the sunset shim 
 mered, while the invisible choir of boys voices 
 poured forth the chants and hymns, which rose 
 and floated and died away among the brown 
 arches and forest-like columns ! As we left the 
 church, the organ sounded Beethoven s Funeral 
 March, which is like the moaning of the sea. 
 
 Having heard Martineau and Stanley, I went 
 in the evening to see and hear Carlyle in his 
 dingy house near the water-side at Chelsea. He 
 received us kindly, a slender figure in iron-gray 
 surtout, with iron-gray hair and beard, and a face 
 all marked over with strength and shrewdness, 
 and touched with tenderness. Apropos of Em 
 erson s "Gulistan" (a most disappointing book 
 to me), Carlyle poured out about Oriental litera 
 ture, and told us some story from a favorite 
 Eastern book, whose name I have now forgotten. 
 Then the talk turned upon Palmerston. He 
 said he was not a man of ideas or principles ; 
 there were things " the vulgar applauded, but 
 men of deeper insight withheld their applause." 
 
236 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 He was not a man to lead the people ; such were 
 few at any time ; but he was kindly, and kept 
 things well together, and when he should be gone, 
 " many an uglier man might come in his place, 
 and so I always said, Live on, friend, as long as 
 you can. " All this and much more was said, in 
 a genial, kindly tone, in strong Scotch accent, 
 with an occasional hearty and pleasant laugh. 
 But universal suffrage happening to be spoken 
 of, he at once lost his good humor and his good 
 sense. " To give every man a vote is to make 
 Judas the equal of Jesus " (!), " / never had a 
 vote ; " then, growing more fierce at some mild 
 protest of mine, he began to talk about the " dirty 
 nigger," and " better put a collar on his neck, 
 and hold him down to his work," etc. It was 
 melancholy. Evidently on this point he is, as 
 Conway says, simply a monomaniac. On all 
 others, he says, he is full of wisdom, information, 
 and tenderness. We were glad, therefore, to 
 get back to Palmerston, and the pictures on the 
 wall of Cromwell and the young Frederic. He 
 resumed his good nature, told an amusing story 
 of some " evangelicals," who went to labor with 
 Palmerston, in his last sickness, for the good of 
 his soul, to whom he listened, hopefully saying, 
 occasionally, " Go on, go on," but suddenly, in a 
 loud voice, asking them to " read the sixth arti- 
 
OTHER JOURNEYS ABROAD 237 
 
 cle." That number of the Thirty-nine, however, 
 not proving apropos, they at last discovered 
 that he meant the sixth article of the treaty of 
 Utrecht, on which his mind had been wandering ! 
 which rather disconcerted their hopes of his 
 salvation. 
 
 I breakfasted with Conway. Carlyle said of 
 him to Brooks, "He is a very flexile person." 
 He still preaches in Fox s Chapel. 
 
 SHANKLIN, ISLE OF WIGHT, July 23, 1868. 
 DEAR SAM, ... The house [Tennyson s] is 
 so ugly, architecturally, that I have not been able 
 to make up my mind to buy a photograph of it. 
 Indoors it is roomy, homely, old-fashioned, and as 
 " careless-ordered " as the garden. We passed 
 through a vestibule, a hall with casts of Elgin 
 marbles and a relief by Michael Angelo on the 
 walls, and boxes of minerals lying around ; 
 through a staircase-entry with a bust of Dante, 
 a medallion head of Carlyle, and numerous framed 
 photographic portraits ; through a sitting-room 
 with books and pictures, into a large drawing- 
 room lighted by a great bay window, outside of 
 which on the lawn stands an ivy-clambered elm. 
 There were tables covered with books, and on 
 the walls were engravings, among them Michael 
 Angelo s Prophets and Sibyls from the Sistine 
 
238 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 Chapel. Mrs. Tennyson received us quietly and 
 cordially, a woman about fifty, with a delicate, 
 invalid look, a tranquil face and manner, and great 
 sweetness of expression and voice ; dressed in 
 black, with something white on the back of her 
 head. We fell into conversation, and, to my 
 surprise, she expressed some timidities as to the 
 enlargement of the franchise here (the new elec 
 tions are soon to take place). " We should have 
 preferred," she said, " that education should have 
 preceded." It made me think of the old pro- 
 slavery argument. Here, as with us, the felt 
 need will bring about what no mere anticipation 
 ever would have done. Education will go hand 
 in hand with enfranchisement. Then she asked 
 me to go out into the garden where Tennyson 
 was smoking with the other gentlemen (H. W. 
 L. having preceded us). She showed me through 
 a study (piled up with books, and where the 
 boys get their lessons), and outside its open 
 window, upon the lawn, sat Tennyson, with a 
 short pipe in his mouth and a large wooden bowl 
 of tobacco at his side, under the shadow of a 
 great clump of trees and shrubbery. He wore 
 spectacles, and a high-crowned, broad-brimmed 
 felt hat, looking just as when you and I saw him, 
 and speaking in the same deep voice. There is 
 something a little brusque, not to say rough, 
 
OTHER JOURNEYS ABROAD 239 
 
 about his manner ; yet it was kindly enough 
 under all. They were speaking about spiritism, 
 of which he seemed quite incredulous, yet inter 
 ested in hearing about it from Mr. Appleton. 
 When some one said, " I see you are bitten by 
 it," he replied, " No, I wish I could be bitten by 
 something ; but I always stay in suspense, neither 
 believing nor unbelieving." We went into lunch. 
 Speaking of our going to the Rhine, he said, " I 
 hate the Rhine. It is overrun with Cockneys. 
 We went to the Rhine, and there came on board 
 two fine life-guardsmen ; they fairly reeked of 
 Windsor soap. They washed their lily-white 
 hands in the drinking water, so that we had 
 nothing to drink. I hate the Rhine ! " 
 
 After lunch he showed us all around the gar 
 den and grounds, and out into the fields under 
 "the brink of the noble down." ... He said he 
 used to walk on the down, but did n t much now. 
 Then up on the roof of the house to see the view, 
 which is very lovely. Afterward he took part of 
 us to drive upon the down to see the " Needles." 
 I went again at seven to dine. His two boys 
 were there, about seventeen and fifteen years. 
 The oldest is named Hallam. I asked him if his 
 name was also Arthur. He said, " No." I 
 thought he was named from the father. The 
 younger is Lionel, named from the constellation 
 
240 SAMUEL LO WG FELLOW 
 
 Leo. Two very nice boys. During dinner the 
 doorbell rang, and Tennyson exclaimed, "Who 
 is that ringing the bell ? Some wretched Cock 
 ney, I m sure it is ! " He seems to have, as 
 Conway said, a perfect mania on the subject of 
 Cockneys. He is building a house in Suffolk to 
 get out of their way. 
 
 After dinner we went into the drawing-room, 
 where the fruit was served, with wines and coffee. 
 Tennyson said some pleasant things about water 
 falls, describing beautifully some that he had 
 seen. Then he asked us to go up into his den, 
 which is at the top of the house, under the roof, 
 with dormer-windows, and full of books. On the 
 table I noticed a large volume of Lucretius, and 
 a new translation of the Psalms. I told him that 
 I tried in London to hear his friend Maurice. 
 He said he had never heard him preach ; but one 
 Sunday, when he was staying with them, he had 
 read the service with great feeling, " the only 
 time," he added, " I have ever heard it read with 
 any." "And think," said he, "of their turning 
 that man out of college because he did n t believe 
 in eternal hell ! That s putting the devil on the 
 throne of the Universe ! The clergyman here 
 preaches it. I never go to church. I used to go 
 sometimes in the afternoon ; but hearing that the 
 clergyman said I never went, I left off going. I 
 
OTHER JOURNEYS ABROAD 24! 
 
 couldn t tolerate it. They gabble off the prayers 
 so, and the sermons are such nonsense." He 
 went on to say that there was a great shaking of 
 the Church and of Christianity in these days. My 
 brother remarking that the essentials of Chris 
 tianity would remain unshaken, he said, " I don t 
 know ; the great central idea of Christianity 
 seems to be that a god descended on earth to 
 redeem man ; that s what all the churches teach, 
 except the Unitarians." " And yet," he added, 
 " I can t quite take Renan, with his talk about ce 
 charmant philosophe! ; The conversation turn 
 ing to verse, I spoke of his " Daisy," and its 
 peculiar and exquisite metre. He seemed pleased, 
 and said he had prided himself on the invention 
 of a new metre, but none of the critics had ever 
 noticed it, except to say that he had written 
 a poem called "The Daisy," much inferior to 
 one by Burns on the same subject ! Then he 
 said, "Can you read Boadicea ? " and got the 
 book ; we declining, he began and read it through 
 in the most astonishing sort of high-pitched chant, 
 half guttural, half nasal. It was almost ludicrous, 
 yet brought out the metre of the poem well. His 
 boys then came up to say good-night, and kissed 
 their father. After a time we took our leave, 
 Tennyson himself lighting us out over the lawn 
 and through the shrubbery to the lane, with a 
 candle in his hand, like a glow-worm. 
 
XII 
 
 EIGHTEEN YEARS IN CAMBRIDGE 
 
 IN resigning his pulpit at Brooklyn in 1860, 
 Mr. Longfellow no doubt felt that he was virtu 
 ally retiring from the active ministry ; at least, 
 that he would not again become a settled pastor. 
 The precarious condition of his health, and the 
 not infrequent suffering to which he was now 
 liable, constituted a practical condition which 
 was nearly insuperable. A moral one, not less 
 serious, was the difficulty of finding a parish 
 resting on such a basis, in its organization, as he 
 could conscientiously stand upon. His convic 
 tions and sympathies were deeply with those who 
 believed that, in the interest of religious feeling 
 ndt less than of mental independence, organized 
 religion should be released from all theological 
 restrictions and implications ; that no doctrinal 
 test, even the slightest and most remote, should 
 be suggested by the relation of church-member 
 ship. Scarcely any of the Unitarian societies 
 had, as yet, reached this position ; and of other 
 liberal congregations, distinctly based upon it, 
 
EIGHTEEN YEARS IN CAMBRIDGE 243 
 
 there were but few, and those mostly feeble and 
 struggling. Mr. Longfellow could not resign the 
 happiness of preaching where his thought was 
 welcome ; yet he had little expectation of other 
 than occasional or temporary services in vacant 
 pulpits. 
 
 In fact, this was the form which his life took 
 for many succeeding years. Living near or with 
 his relatives in Cambridge, he preached, as occa 
 sion offered, in many of the Unitarian churches 
 of New England and of the West and South. In 
 one or two instances, his services were continued 
 over periods of some length. In Newburyport, 
 where a highly intelligent congregation had en 
 joyed the ministrations of his friend Higginson 
 and of other progressive preachers, Mr. Longfel 
 low was peculiarly at home. He supplied the 
 pulpit there, at different times, for several months 
 together, and returned to it on occasional Sun 
 days, so long as he lived, to find the impression 
 of his thought and faith unfaded, and an affec 
 tion among the people such as one may be glad 
 to earn in a settled pastorate. 
 
 But Mr. Longfellow s most interesting engage 
 ment was with the Twenty-eighth Congregational 
 Society of Boston, gathered by the lamented 
 Theodore Parker. Here a strictly free platform, 
 wholly unembarrassed by creed or covenant, 
 
244 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 offered him a thoroughly congenial position. He 
 preached for this society for more than a year, 
 during 1867 and 1868, and very often afterwards, 
 giving, especially, a noble discourse at the dedi 
 cation of their new place of worship, the Parker 
 Fraternity Hall, in 1873. 
 
 While these pulpit services called for the 
 usual weekly preparation, there remained leisure 
 for a variety of literary and aesthetic occupations. 
 Mr. Longfellow, although he was unmethodical 
 in his habits, had the art of filling his days with 
 intellectual activities and refined amusements, 
 with quiet philanthropies and kindly services of 
 many sorts. Earnestly concerned to promote 
 religious liberalism, he took much interest in the 
 " Radical " magazine, and contributed to its pages 
 some of his maturest thoughts. He was a con 
 stant attendant and frequent speaker at the " Rad 
 ical Club," which was organized in 1867, and met 
 for a number of years subsequently in Boston, 
 and engaged in spicy conversation progressive 
 and idealistic spirits like Emerson, Bartol, Al- 
 cott, Higginson, Wasson, Weiss, James Freeman 
 Clarke, Wendell Phillips, Mr. and Mrs. Sargent, 
 Mrs. Julia Ward Howe, Mrs. Ednah D. Cheney, 
 and others. 
 
 Of the Free Religious Association, which 
 arose about the same time, he did not become, 
 
EIGHTEEN YEARS IN CAMBRIDGE 245 
 
 formally, a member. " Why Free Religion ? 
 Free Religious Association ? Are not Re 
 ligion, Religious, sufficient ?" But he was in 
 full sympathy with the general aim of the organ 
 ization, although he criticised some of its meth 
 ods. He spoke at its meetings, and appeared 
 often on its platform. His disposition to individ 
 ualism seems also to have prevented his formal 
 association with the various antislavery societies, 
 although he was even a Garrisonian abolitionist, 
 not only in his abhorrence of slavery, but in a 
 willingness to separate from the South, on the 
 ground of the pro-slavery character (as he viewed 
 it) of the Constitution, and his skepticism of the 
 possibility of a political union with the slave 
 States which should not involve disgraceful com 
 promise of principle and dignity. 
 
 For his enjoyments, music remained, of all the 
 arts, Mr. Longfellow s chief delight and solace. 
 He mastered no instrument, but he improved all 
 opportunities of hearing music in the best forms 
 then offered, and his knowledge of the science, 
 and of its masterpieces, was extensive and thor 
 ough. Beethoven was his favorite composer. 
 He especially loved oratorios and chamber-music. 
 Literature was a resource which never failed 
 him. He maintained a familiar acquaintance 
 with the classics, and read habitually in the mod- 
 
246 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 ern languages of Europe, not only studying their 
 standard authors, but keeping well abreast of 
 their current products in the departments con 
 genial to him. Poetry was, of course, peculiarly 
 his province, and whatever of it was beautiful in 
 many literatures was familiar to him. Into his 
 brother s literary work he entered with the deep 
 est sympathy and appreciation, giving him occa 
 sional practical assistance in the preparation of 
 his volumes for publication, especially those of 
 his translation of Dante. 
 
 The relation of these brothers was one of the 
 closest affection ; a union of kindred spirits, 
 bound by happiest family ties, and by a perfect 
 community of tastes and sentiments. It was the 
 blessing of the group of children who had filled 
 the rooms of the ancient dwelling in Portland, 
 that their mutual love was to persist unsevered, 
 and to grow deeper throughout their lives. And, 
 in this period of what must have been, in no small 
 degree, one of disappointment in respect to his 
 work in life, his enforced partial retirement from 
 the activities which were dear to him was greatly 
 relieved for Mr. Longfellow by the long continu 
 ance of his domestic associations. His intense 
 love for children went out to the young genera 
 tion who clustered in the homes of his brothers, 
 and was enthusiastically returned. They con- 
 
EIGHTEEN YEARS IN CAMBRIDGE 247 
 
 fided to him without reserve their girlish and 
 boyish interests, secure that nothing which con 
 cerned them would ever be trivial in his eyes. 
 He was adopted with equal warmth and trust by 
 their companions, and to all, indiscriminately, be 
 came " Uncle Sam." During several successive 
 summers, parties of young people were made up, 
 for jaunts in the White Mountains, or elsewhere, 
 of which he was a most welcome member. " He 
 was completely one of us, in our walks and drives 
 and climbs, only occasionally moderating our 
 exuberance when we went too far, and then mak 
 ing up for it by songs and poems full of fun, and 
 jokes suited to the occasion. Perhaps we did 
 not always quite remember the respect due him, 
 for the ministerial side was, at such times, far less 
 prominent than the playful one. . . . 
 
 "We had a little school in the house, and he 
 was constantly in and out of the schoolroom, on 
 most familiar terms with the children, sometimes 
 aiding the discipline, quite as often disturbing it ; 
 and his own room was always a refuge for sad or 
 rebellious scholars. 
 
 " Our English governess, a rather timid and 
 narrow churchwoman, had been warned, before 
 entering this Unitarian household, that Mr. 
 Sam was a very radical and dangerous man, 
 and she was anxious accordingly. But as he 
 
248 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 never talked about his religious views, and she 
 saw only his sweet and genial nature and his 
 childlike ways, she was completely disarmed, and 
 afterwards said that, having known my father 
 and my uncle, she had never been able to say the 
 Athanasian Creed again." 
 
 When separated from the different branches 
 of his family, as at Brooklyn and Germantown, 
 Mr. Longfellow forgot the concerns of neither, 
 but kept himself in close connection with them 
 all by correspondence and frequent tokens of 
 affection and interest. His letters to his nieces 
 and nephews were especially charming ; easy and 
 sportive, yet often carrying wise suggestions as 
 to conduct, taste, or grammar, and, when occa 
 sion suggested, treating simply, but frankly and 
 impressively, of the deeper themes of the inner 
 life, of duty, of sorrow, of religious faith. He 
 remembered very faithfully birthdays and other 
 anniversaries, and " was always ready with gifts 
 and a verse of fun or sentiment to accompany 
 them. Valentine s Day was never passed without 
 original rhymes and pictures especially adapted 
 to each recipient. For many years, with one 
 or two young assistants, he edited a Christmas 
 paper, made up of clippings collected throughout 
 the year, which were combined and ingeniously 
 adapted, and supplemented, when printed matter 
 
EIGHTEEN YEARS IN CAMBRIDGE 249 
 
 failed, by original contributions in prose and 
 poetry." These annual jeux cC esprit were read 
 at the principal family gathering, and then circu 
 lated among the different homes. 
 
 The interest which Mr. Longfellow felt for 
 whatever concerned his young relatives extended 
 to all other youth whom he could reach. In 
 Cambridge he always had a large acquaintance 
 among the students of the college, visiting them 
 in their rooms, bringing them about him in his 
 own, and, with an attraction which seemed mag 
 netic, enlisting their affection and opening ave 
 nues of kindly and helpful influence over them. 
 He attended many courses of lectures in the Uni 
 versity and it was felt that much of his pleasure 
 in them was derived from the society of the young 
 men whom he thus met. Among the less fortu 
 nate youth of the town he was also widely known 
 and trusted. He actively interested himself in 
 the Cambridge " Social Union," an organization 
 for the benefit of young men and boys, and was 
 its vice-president and president, until obliged by 
 increasing age to retire. The " Boys Aid Club " 
 made him an honorary member, and he went to 
 their meetings, helping them with advice and 
 practical assistance in their plans. " He could 
 pass no boy in the street without some token of 
 kindness, if it was only a touch of the hand as he 
 
250 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 went by." Once, on a certain field, which was 
 his property, a group of boys had gathered for a 
 game of ball. Seeing him coming they began to 
 run away. But he beckoned to them, and suc 
 ceeded in inducing them to come to him, when 
 he explained that he was glad to see them in 
 his field, and was willing they should play there 
 as much as they pleased, an announcement 
 which was received with hearty gratitude. At 
 one time, when he lived near a boys school, he 
 was approached by neighbors for his signature to 
 a petition that the noise they made should be 
 suppressed. " But I like their noise," he replied. 
 
XIII 
 
 A FEW LETTERS TO A YOUNG FRIEND 
 
 WITH one or two youths, Mr. Longfellow es 
 tablished relations of peculiar intimacy. Among 
 these, William Allan Klapp was adopted by him 
 into an affection and watchful interest which 
 were truly parental. It seems desirable to illus 
 trate fully one of Mr. Longfellow s traits which 
 was peculiarly characteristic, and, with that view, 
 the following extracts are appended from his cor 
 respondence with this very promising youth (sadly 
 removed by a premature death in 1887), which 
 will help to show his power of reaching the 
 hearts of the young, and how elevating was the 
 influence which he exerted upon them. 
 
 LETTERS TO WILLIAM ALLAN KLAPP. 
 
 PORTLAND, November , 1884. 
 
 MY BELOVED ALLAN, I have come down to 
 Portland to our family Thanksgiving ; and being 
 established in the back chamber of the old home 
 stead, I very naturally think of you. I believe 
 
252 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 that to New Englanders Thanksgiving Day is 
 more than to any other people ; its associations 
 running back to days before Christmas was 
 observed in this part of the world. In my boy 
 hood, even Christmas was not observed, except 
 by the Episcopalians and Roman Catholics (who 
 then were few), and our gifts were always ex 
 changed on New Year s Day. On Thanksgiving 
 Day, everybody went to " meeting/ or church, in 
 the morning, where was always a wonderful and 
 elaborate anthem sung by the choir. And at 
 dinner were gathered at the old home children 
 and grandchildren, and all the boys and girls 
 were allowed to have as much turkey and as 
 many pieces of mince-pie and pumpkin-pie, and 
 as many nuts and raisins as they could hold. 
 In the evening they played blindman s buff. As 
 there are no longer any boys and girls in our 
 family, the youngest member being a Junior in 
 college, our gathering is rather soberer and 
 quieter than of yore. . . . 
 
 I could not make up my mind to vote for 
 Elaine on the one hand, or for the Democratic 
 party on the other ; so I did not vote at all for 
 presidential electors. But I think Cleveland will 
 really make a good and independent president. 
 There will be a Republican Senate; and the 
 Democratic party will be under great inducement 
 
A FEW LETTERS TO A YOUNG FRIEND 253 
 
 to behave well so as to secure a reelection ; so I 
 hope for the best. 
 
 I know you are busy at school, but don t you 
 think you can write me once a month ; say the 
 first Sunday of every month ? I want to know 
 all about you. . . . 
 
 The allusions to an " island " in some of the 
 following letters will doubtless be sufficiently 
 clear without particular explanation. 
 
 PORTLAND, August 24, 1885. 
 
 DEARLY BELOVED, By this time I hope that 
 all obstacles are cleared away and you are full 
 legal possessors of the island of pines ; I presume 
 that you will not build till next spring, as your 
 vacation is so nearly over. But I should think 
 you would like to put up some sort of shelter 
 under which you might camp for a few days. I 
 remember that the boys in the Adirondacks put 
 up, in a few hours, a sort of shanty with poles 
 and a roof of bark, under which they could at 
 least creep for shelter from rain. Is there a rock 
 upon which you could make a fire ? for you 
 must not set the grass on fire, on any account. 
 
 I am not quite sure whether it is the island 
 upon which I landed with you that you have 
 bargained for, or the adjacent one. I feel in 
 clined to buy both ; and authorize you to do so at 
 
254 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 the same rate as for the first, if you think it 
 desirable. It would secure you from unwelcome 
 neighbors. Are they near enough for a rustic 
 bridge to be made to connect them ? 
 
 It seems absurd that the house should cost so 
 very much more than the island ! There will be 
 time to consider that, and the plan, however, 
 before spring. I shall probably want to help you 
 about it. We will see. Meanwhile it occurs to 
 me that you will have some legal expenses con 
 nected with getting possession, and as I wish, at 
 least, to make the island (or islands) my entire 
 gift, you must be sure to let me know the amount. 
 
 I am much interested in your appearance in 
 print, and hope soon to see your longer article. 
 I hope you will go on writing. If you can get 
 five dollars a month, it will help towards your 
 building. Why can t you write, with care, " A 
 Summer at Brandt Lake," just a lively narra 
 tive of your doings, and send it to "Outing." 
 Do it ! I shall send you the September number 
 in a day or two. Love to Eugene. 
 
 Yours affectionately, S. L. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, October 6, 1885. 
 
 MY DEAR ALLAN, I congratulate you on your 
 literary successes. I wish that " Outing " would 
 have given you a higher fee, but at the beginning 
 
A FEW LETTERS TO A YOUNG FRIEND 2$$ 
 
 it is a great thing to get your piece and your name 
 into a magazine and before the public. For your 
 next article you had better ask more. You must 
 not expect to see your production printed very 
 soon. They generally have the numbers made 
 up some months ahead. 
 
 There seems to be a good deal of delay about 
 getting the title deeds [of the island] ; but perhaps 
 by this time it is accomplished. And I hope next 
 summer to be your guest in " Longfellow Lodge." 
 If your room is only ten feet wide outside the 
 bunks, you must have a wide porch outside the 
 door. 
 
 I should like to have been with you at Brandt 
 some of these lovely days warm as summer 
 here. Cambridge is in its autumn glory. Col 
 lege is begun. I know only one Freshman. Oh, 
 Allan, I felt badly to hear that you were not 
 coming to Harvard ! But I can see that, living 
 in New York, there may be good reasons for 
 your studying at Columbia. 
 
 It seems to me very absurd that the college boys 
 think they cannot play at football for their own 
 enjoyment, without the rivalry of match games. 
 But boys are often unreasonable, are they not ? 
 
 My book is, at last, in the printer s hands ; 
 that is, the first volume. I have still some chap 
 ters to write in the second. They do not expect 
 to et it out until after Christmas. 
 
256 SAMUEL . L ONGFELL O W 
 
 Give my regards to your mother, and my love 
 to Eugene ; and a good deal to yourself. 
 
 From your attached S. L. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, December 31, 1885. 
 
 MY DEAR ALLAN, I am glad you have been 
 enjoying your holidays. By another week I sup 
 pose you will be at your books again. I rejoice 
 that you are doing well in your studies and hope 
 you have done with " cutting up." Try to stand 
 as high in character as in your lessons. It is a 
 great thing for a man to be high-toned morally : 
 to have a high sense of what is manly and worthy 
 in motives and aims and principles ; to have a 
 high standard of action that hates everything low. 
 
 I notice among the young men here a differ 
 ence. Some think only of having a good time in 
 life, or pushing themselves forward in their busi 
 ness or profession, or getting rich, all their aims 
 ending in themselves. Others I find interesting 
 themselves in bettering and helping the commu 
 nity in which they live, taking hold, with public 
 spirit, in reform of politics ; or taking part in the 
 Associated Charities or Civil Service Reform 
 associations. They are not thinking of their 
 own advancement alone, but of doing something 
 for the world, or that part of it in which they 
 live. . 
 
A FEW LETTERS TO A YOUNG FRIEND 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, February 20, 1886. 
 
 MY VERY DEAR ALLAN, I am glad that you 
 are not satisfied with a standing which is merely 
 good by comparison with " the other fellows," and 
 that you have a higher standard of your own, 
 namely, what is really good and high. And I 
 hope you will carry this out in other things be 
 sides your studies. 
 
 I am entirely willing that you should use my 
 Christmas gift for the Society pin. Let it remind 
 you of me, and that I want you to be all that is 
 good and true and noble, a kind of talisman. 
 The motto is good, is it good Latin ? and 
 is equivalent to "By their fruits ye shall know 
 them." Actions in the long run certainly show 
 what a man is. And yet always what a man or 
 a boy is, is even more important than the things 
 he docs. Do you understand that ? . . . 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, February 26, 1886. 
 
 MY BELOVED ALLAN, I was rejoiced to hear 
 by your letter that the " red tape " was at last 
 all untied ; and trust that the deed is by this time 
 in your possession, and that you are full and 
 legal owner of the green island in Brandt Lake ! 
 I enter with all my heart into the pleasure which 
 I imagine you feel in being a " landed proprie 
 tor," and the pleasure you and Eugene will have 
 
258 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 in carrying out your plans of building upon and 
 living upon the island. 
 
 There is a little island in Loch Katrine called, 
 from Scott s heroine, "Ellen s Isle." I think I 
 will name yours " Allan s Isle." 
 
 I question, however, about the garden which 
 you have laid out upon the plan. I think it 
 would mar the natural surface, the space being 
 so small. Besides it would be too late to plant 
 anything when you go up in summer. 
 
 When I think of it, I feel quite impatient for 
 the summer to be here, that I may come and see 
 you in the Lodge, and have a row and a bath. 
 
 I took tea on Sunday evening with Mrs. M., 
 sitting at the round table in the dining-room, 
 and wishing you were there. 
 
 I cannot remember whether I sent you the 
 money for the purchase of the island. You see 
 I am getting old ! Let me know. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, June 8, 1886. 
 
 O my dear Allan, what a disappointment ! Of 
 course, we both wish now that we had carried out 
 the plan of buying both islands. However, you 
 must make the best of it now, hard as it is to 
 have so pleasant an anticipation dashed to the 
 ground. I can only hope the lady will get tired 
 
A FEW LETTERS TO A YOUNG FRIEND 259 
 
 of it in a few weeks, or in one summer at least. 
 I do feel quite badly about it, myself, as I had 
 looked forward to my visit to you with so much 
 pleasure. 
 
 Meanwhile, be as happy as you can, and don t 
 let yourself be cast down by disappointment, but 
 get some good out of it. You will be sure -to 
 have a good time anyway. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, June 30, 1886. 
 
 DEAR ALLAN, I am glad to hear of your suc 
 cess in passing the entrance exams, and hail 
 you as a C-o-l-u-m-b-i-a-n ! (" Hail, Columbia" the 
 band will here play). I can t help wishing a 
 little it was Harvard ; but that is because I want 
 to have you nearer to me. 
 
 To-day has been Commencement day, and a 
 very pleasant one. I heard some of the parts 
 at Sanders Theatre, and attended the Alumni 
 dinner, where were some good speeches, and 
 some dull ones. Two of the speakers spoke 
 strongly against the extravagance and luxury 
 which they thought were increasing among the 
 students. But President Eliot said it was con 
 fined to "a very small fraction" of the young 
 men, even of the rich ones. He said it was a 
 mistake to suppose that Harvard was frequented 
 chiefly by the rich ; that, besides the large num- 
 
26O SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 her who had moderate means, actually one in 
 five of the students received pecuniary aid from 
 the college funds. 
 
 I go to Portland on Saturday for the summer. 
 I wish you were to be in that back chamber 
 again ! . . . 
 
 PORTLAND, October 17, 1886. 
 
 Still in Portland, and writing at the table in 
 the back chamber, which remembers you, dear 
 Allan. I can almost see you in this empty chair, 
 half facing me as I write. What a gift we have 
 in this power by imagination and feeling to live 
 over again scenes long past, and to repeat and 
 prolong the pleasure. Indeed, we have our 
 pleasures thrice over, in anticipation, in enjoy 
 ment, and in memory. So "our cup runneth 
 over," as the Psalmist said. We must remember 
 this in times of disappointment and trouble, and 
 not arraign the good Providence that gives us 
 "richly to enjoy," in giving us the capacity to 
 enjoy and abundant occasions for its exercise. 
 
 I want to hear more about the island and if 
 anything is decided upon. Of course, if you can 
 sell the little one for enough to buy the larger, 
 it will be creditable to your business capacity, 
 
A FEW LETTERS TO A YOUNG FRIEND 26 1 
 
 and a remote tract naturally has a lower market 
 value than one near to human habitations, though 
 it may be worth more to individual tastes and 
 purposes. 
 
 By the way, I came across your name the 
 other day, of all unexpected places, in a poem of 
 Wordsworth s. And, oddly enough, it has refer 
 ence to a sale of land. I will copy the verse, 
 applying it to the new " Allan s Isle " by chan 
 ging the first word. When you have become 
 possessor of it, we will say, in view of possible 
 applications to sell again, - 
 
 " Should the troublesome tempter beset us, said I, 
 
 Let him come with his purse proudly grasped in his 
 
 hand, 
 
 But, Allan, be true to me, Allan, we 11 die 
 Before he shall go with an inch of the land ! 
 
 This occurs in a poem called " Repentance." In 
 two other books I have just been reading, or 
 having read to me, your name is that of the 
 hero. . . . 
 
 I go back to Cambridge and Craigie House the 
 3Oth of this month. I hope I may welcome you 
 there some day. . . . 
 
 Your attached S. L. 
 
262 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 [No date], 1886. 
 
 DEARLY BELOVED, Excuse this half sheet on 
 which I tell you that, following your wish, I have 
 directed the publisher to send you a copy of the 
 " Life " [of Henry W. Longfellow], which accept 
 with much love from your friend, the editor. 
 
 I hope, as you read it, it may inspire you to aim 
 at a life, like this, of earnest purpose, unflagging 
 industry, unstained purity, and untiring kindness. 
 Your attached S. L. 
 
 A bon voyage, on Allan s departure for Europe : 
 
 [No date.] 
 
 Good-by, dear Allan ; think of me as always 
 warmly interested in your welfare. Keep true to 
 your best. God bless you ; I say it from my 
 heart. 
 
 Your loving S. L. 
 
 CRAIGIE HOUSE, CAMBRIDGE, January 16, 1887. 
 DEARLY BELOVED ALLAN, I am indebted to 
 you for two letters which I was delighted to get. 
 I am glad to know that you have such pleasant 
 quarters. It is a good deal in a great city to look 
 upon a garden ; even, in winter, to have the open 
 space, and in the spring it will be pleasant to 
 watch it growing green. I shall get out my map 
 and see if I can find the spot. I remember Paris 
 
A FEW LETTERS TO A YOUNG FRIEND 263 
 
 as very gray-skied and drizzly in the winter, the 
 pavements covered with a sticky mud. But the 
 winter was short and the spring delightful, and 
 when the sun shines what a bright and handsome 
 city! . . . 
 
 The first winter I spent in Paris in 1852-53, 
 when Louis Napoleon by a coup d etat overthrew 
 the government I lived in the Rue de la Vic- 
 toire ; the second winter 1865-66, I lived on the 
 Ouai de la Messagerie, near the Place du Chate- 
 let. I never cared for the mass in the Catholic 
 churches, but I used to enjoy going in the after 
 noon to the Vesper Service, which is almost all 
 music, getting away into some quiet corner to 
 enjoy its devotional feeling. 
 
 I have no doubt you are getting on rapidly in 
 speaking French. At first the great thing is 
 to gain fluency, without much regard to accu 
 racy ; that is, to talk without minding mistakes, 
 - afterwards taking pains to be correct and 
 grammatical. But from the first take pains to 
 pronounce correctly, noticing carefully how the 
 educated French pronounce. One great mistake 
 English and Americans are apt to make is in 
 accenting one syllable of a word strongly and 
 slurring over the others, just as we do in English 
 but as the French do not. Thus the English 
 say mat-son, the French mdi-son, accenting the 
 
264 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 second syllable as much as the first, though mak 
 ing them both short. So you will hear Ameri 
 cans say Champs Elj/sees instead of E-ly-se es ; 
 and Z^embourg instead of Lux-m-borg. No 
 tice, yourself, how the French pronounce these 
 and like words. Plays are good to read, because 
 they give you the language of conversation. I 
 hope you will be able to go to some of the public 
 lectures at the College de France. They are 
 free to all, and will train your ear, as well as en 
 tertain and instruct you. Remember that the 
 one thing you can do better in Paris than else 
 where is to learn French; therefore do not fail 
 to make good use of this opportunity to learn it 
 well. Besides a good pronunciation, there is a 
 peculiar intonation, which you can learn only by 
 imitation. You will hear it in every shop, espe 
 cially where a woman* waits on you. Take no 
 tice of it, and try to catch it. There is a sort of 
 turning up of the voice at the end of a sentence, 
 whereas in English we turn the voice down. I 
 give you these hints hastily. 
 
 But now of this side of the water. ... I went 
 to Portland for Thanksgiving, and again for Christ 
 mas, where we had a merry evening party at my 
 brother Alexander s. I have been writing three 
 articles for a children s magazine, " The Wide- 
 Awake," - on " Longfellow s Boyhood," " Long- 
 
.-/ FEW* LETTERS TO A YOUNG FRIEND 26$ 
 
 fellow with his Children," and " Longfellow with 
 the Children " (not his own). 
 
 Oh, my dear Allan, I think that little visit of 
 yours here attached me to you more strongly 
 and warmly than ever. I want you to know how 
 much I prize your affection ; and how warm and 
 deep my friendship for you is. How I wish it 
 might be of help to you in keeping you up to 
 your best, in keeping you true and high-toned, 
 and above every thing and thought that is low 
 and unworthy. Set your mark of manhood high. 
 God bless you ! I say it from my heart. 
 
 TO THE FATHER OF ALLAN KLAPP, ON RECEIV 
 ING THE NEWS OF THE YOUNG MAN S DEATH. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, February 26, 1887. 
 
 DEAR MR. KLAPP, Your telegram is just 
 received. Oh, my dear sir, what a blow is this ! 
 My heart is with you. But what can I say ? 
 When I think of all that life, that energy, that 
 bright intelligence, that promise of a fine gener 
 ous manhood ! What hopes you must have cen 
 tred upon him, and what he would be in the 
 coming years ! And now they are all dashed 
 down ! Not here are they to be fulfilled. Yet 
 we know not from what he may have been 
 
266 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 spared. We cannot tell. Perhaps it is well that 
 it is not in our hands to decide. For our very 
 hopes cannot be free from some anxiety for those 
 we love. But I have so often thought, as I 
 looked upon Allan, what a fine manhood was in 
 store for him, with his glow of health, his vigor, 
 his ambition, his active mind. 
 
 You know how warmly and strongly attached 
 I had become to him and how much I prized 
 his affection. How hard it is to believe and feel 
 that I shall not look upon his face again ! But 
 I shall always cherish his bright memory, and be 
 glad that I have known him. With no son of 
 my own, I had taken him to my heart. 
 
 But it is not perished, that life, that intelli 
 gence, all those qualities that endeared him. 
 Not here, but elsewhere surely they will have 
 their growth and fulfillment. And we shall meet 
 again there ! For me it will not be very long. 
 
 May God console and comfort you ! He is 
 the Heavenly Father. He does not take all 
 sorrow from us, but he gives us strength to bear 
 it, and stands by our side and says, " All shall be 
 well." With strongest and tenderest sympathy, 
 Your friend, SAML. LONGFELLOW. 
 
A FEW LETTERS TO A YOUXG FRIEXD 267 
 
 TO ALLAN S MOTHER. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, June 21, 1887. 
 
 MY DEAR MRS. KLAPP, I thank you very 
 much indeed for the portraits of our dear Allan, 
 and for the paper-knife. You were right in 
 thinking that I should like something which he 
 had used. The portraits, especially the larger 
 head, recall him to me distinctly and pleasantly, 
 though I miss the bright coloring. He was 
 very dear to me, as you know. Why should I 
 say was ? He is as much so as ever. He has 
 been often, very often, in my thought. And 
 though, at first, my feeling was a very sad one, 
 that I should never again look into his face, or 
 hear his cheery voice, or witness the unfolding 
 of his manhood out of the bright promise of 
 his boyhood, yet now for me the shadows have 
 passed, and I think of him as he was, so full of 
 life and affection. He seems very near to me, 
 and brings a bright joy to my heart. I hope it 
 is sometimes so with you, though of course to 
 you the sadness of the loss and the disappoint 
 ment of hopes must be keener and longer endur 
 ing. " T is better to have loved and lost than 
 never to have loved at all," because that which 
 we have once loved is ours forever, by a deep, 
 deep tie of the spirit. The soul holds fast its 
 
268 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 own. He came into my life, a great happiness 
 to me which I cannot forget or lose. How much 
 more fully can you say this ! I do hope, amid 
 all your sorrows, that you have had many happy 
 thoughts of him and can feel his presence. Do 
 not doubt that you are often and deeply in his 
 thoughts and his affectionate heart. Sweden- 
 borg says, and I think with truth, that thought 
 and feeling make spiritual presence. His nature 
 was indeed (again I ought to say is) full of sweet 
 ness ; and I was much touched with what you 
 wrote me of this, in his illness. His last little 
 visit to me is a great delight to me to remember. 
 Your friend, 
 
 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW. 
 
XIV 
 
 THE GERMANTOWN PASTORATE 
 
 THE uneventful but happy mode of life which 
 Mr. Longfellow was pursuing in Cambridge was 
 interrupted in the early winter of 1877-78 by 
 an invitation to the pastorate of the Unitarian 
 Society in Germantown, Pennsylvania. His dis 
 position to accept the call was a surprise even to 
 himself. But the union of church and pastor 
 has often been compared to marriage, and its 
 conditions closely resemble those of the personal 
 tie. In this case a congeniality seemed almost 
 immediately to reveal itself between the parties, 
 and they were drawn strongly together. The 
 liberal spirit of the Society ; the cordiality and 
 hospitality of its members ; their affectionate 
 union as a congregation ; with the beauty of the 
 town and the pleasant surroundings of the taste 
 ful and homelike church, attracted Mr. Longfel 
 low, as his personal traits and the power and 
 sweetness of his preaching at once charmed the 
 people and led them to the unanimous wish that 
 he should become their pastor. After brief con- 
 
27O SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 sideration, he responded favorably to their invi 
 tation, and was installed their minister on Sun 
 day, January 6, 1878. 
 
 The services, by Mr. Longfellow s desire, were 
 brief and informal. An address of welcome and 
 recognition to their new pastor was read, on the 
 part of the people, by the President of the So 
 ciety, and prayer was offered by the already ven 
 erable Dr. Furness. Mr. Longfellow conducted 
 the other exercises of the occasion, and preached 
 the sermon. Its subject was "The Continuity 
 of Life." It was a discourse appropriate to the 
 beginning of a new year and a new ministry. 
 He denned frankly the position he should main 
 tain as the teacher of a pure and simple theism, 
 in absolute mental independence. Recognizing 
 the lofty spiritual and moral qualities of Jesus as 
 a man, and the nobleness of his religious and 
 ethical principles and ideals, he maintained (in 
 consistency with Jesus s own thought) that God, 
 the spiritual Father of men, is the only proper 
 object of worship. He examined the nature of 
 religion, showing that its scope includes the en 
 tire area of human relations and activities, and 
 that its truths have their root in the common 
 nature of Deity and Humanity, and in no arbi 
 trary ordinations whatever. 
 
 Unequivocal and thorough, the sermon was 
 
THE GERMANTOWN PASTORATE 2/1 
 
 listened to with sympathy, even by some to 
 whom its positions were, as yet, unfamiliar, but 
 who were commanded by the earnestness and 
 deeply devout spirit of the preacher and his dis^ 
 course. 
 
 The union thus formed continued, in increasing 
 happiness and mutual affection, for four and a- 
 half years. It was marked by few events of 
 which record can now be made. " I remember 
 it," writes a gentleman of the Society, "as a 
 beautiful dream without striking incidents." But 
 the influence which Mr. Longfellow acquired, 
 both within and without his congregation, during 
 this brief period, was singularly deep and wide. 
 His pastorate was conducted in the same sim 
 plicity of method and of manners which had 
 always been characteristic of him. His preach 
 ing, now replete with the wisdom of nearly three 
 score years, still dealt preferably with the pro 
 found, but simple, themes of the personal life. 
 Always ethical in emphasis and direction, it was 
 unvaryingly pervaded by the religious spirit 
 which experience and reflection made ever surer 
 and more fervid in him. His hearers hardly 
 realized (it was said) how profoundly and search- 
 ingly he had touched and moved them, until they 
 had left the presence of the preacher. It was by 
 the power of the truth, discerned and felt, unec- 
 
272 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 statically but most practically, and accepted with 
 unqualified sincerity and absolute loyalty into his 
 own life. "He carried into deeds all that he 
 preached." The divine quality of human nature ; 
 men s direct relations to God ; his constant pres 
 ence in their lives ; his perfect accessibility, were, 
 to Samuel Longfellow, realities so vivid that, 
 averse as he was to formal utterance of religious 
 feelings, they moulded and shone through all his 
 conversation, and seemed, even to his counte 
 nance and the intonations of his voice, to give 
 their indescribable grace and purity. 
 
 In the homes of his new congregation Mr. 
 Longfellow speedily established himself as a 
 familiar presence. Observing no regular system 
 of visiting, he seemed, by a happy tact, to be 
 habitually among them, and especially to be with 
 them when peculiar joys or sorrows intervened 
 in the tenor of their experience. One who had 
 known a great affliction said, " He did not make 
 me formal visits, nor remain long with me when 
 he called, nor speak much of my trial and its sup 
 ports ; but almost daily I received some reminder 
 of his sympathy, and it seemed as if, through his 
 being with me, the truths I needed to support 
 me had made their way to my heart. . , 
 
 " It was on Sunday morning when Mr. Long 
 fellow came, while the church bells were still 
 
THE GERMANTOWN PASTORATE 273 
 
 ringing, and prayed with us. And such a prayer ! 
 I seem to hear it now, and to feel the calm that 
 entered into my soul. What he was to me and 
 my children in the weary days that followed, it 
 is not in the power of language to convey. Not 
 one single day for weeks did he omit coming to 
 see us, and he never failed to leave a blessing 
 behind. My anxieties for my family were very 
 great ; but, after a visit from Mr. Longfellow, 
 I felt sure the way would be opened by which 
 I should be able to provide for them, although I 
 cannot recall that he ever made any suggestion 
 as to what I could do. But one felt the power of 
 his own trust and faith. . . . 
 
 " By the way, he made a beautiful distinction 
 between trust and faith. Trust says, * O Lord, 
 Thy will be done. Faith says, I come, O Lord, 
 to do Thy will. . . . 
 
 " At one time I had been disposed to look 
 rather on the hardships than on the mercies of 
 my lot. He spoke no word of reproof, but, soon 
 after, sent me a card with these lines : 
 
 4 Though but one berry on the spray should ripen ; 
 Though but one spray upon the bough grow green ; 
 Though but one bough above the tree-top brighten, 
 God s power and goodness in that one are seen. 
 
 . . . " He carried into deeds all that he 
 preached. In every charitable work which he 
 
274 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 proposed to his congregation it was let us do 
 so and so." 
 
 Into the joys as well as the trials of his people ; 
 their lighter as well as their graver concerns ; 
 the pleasures of the young ; family anniversaries, 
 Mr. Longfellow entered so naturally and sym 
 pathetically, according to the spirit of each occa 
 sion, that he was everywhere the most welcome 
 of all guests to old and young. His traits of 
 character revealed themselves peculiarly in the 
 friendly notes, always short, which, under various 
 circumstances, he was led to write to his parish 
 ioners. The deepest truths were conveyed in a 
 few suggestive words, made convincing and per 
 suasive by their perfect spontaneousness. His 
 sense of humor was very quick, and his faculty 
 of sportive verse enhanced the merriment of 
 many an occasion of gladness, as his tender and 
 serious lines helped sorrowful hearts to rise 
 above their grief. 
 
 In his personal mode of life, during these 
 years, Mr. Longfellow found a fresh interest and 
 pleasure, with something of amusement. Most 
 of the time he had his own house, assuming the 
 novel responsibilities of bachelor housekeeping, 
 and much enjoying the opportunity of exercising 
 hospitality. 
 
THE GERMANTOWN PASTORATE 2?$ 
 
 TO MRS. G. L. S. 
 
 GERMANTOWN, , 1878. 
 
 DEAR FRIEND, Your delicate vase is on the 
 desk before me, with a more delicate rosebud, 
 lifting up its beautiful head to praise God by 
 showing forth his beauty, and serve Him by glad 
 dening human hearts. What a psalm it sings ! 
 
 I have just come in from my morning walk in 
 this soft, radiant day. A tender mist half veiled 
 the bare gray woodlands, and the cypress-like 
 evergreen cedars threw blue shadows on the 
 snow. . . . 
 
 Will you believe that I am really at housekeep 
 ing ? A very pleasant sunny house, furnished, 
 even with a cook, was offered me at a very rea 
 sonable price. After four days experience, I can 
 say that housekeeping is very nice ! I try to 
 catch somebody to dine with me, and usually 
 take tea out in the parish. 
 
 I felt at home in Germantown from the first, 
 and I have been very happy since I came back. 
 I must go to my sermon. With true regards, 
 
 S. L. 
 
276 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 TO MRS. G. L. S. 
 
 GERMANTOWN, April i, 1878. 
 
 DEAR FRIEND, To-day there are violets in 
 the little vase, from my garden-bed. For the 
 spring is here. And on my table a bunch of 
 Mayflowers brought from the woods by one of 
 my boys. We miss this year the joyful contrast 
 of winter and spring, having had only spring. 
 For myself, I think a week of real winter is 
 enough. 
 
 And you, I hope, are out among your trees in 
 the sunshine, busy perhaps with your garden- 
 shears in teaching your vines and shrubs to keep 
 the limits of beauty, saying to them, "Thus far 
 and no farther," and so helping God who needs 
 so much human help to make the world right. 
 And there in the sunshine and the new life, a 
 soft dirge sounds in your heart, a threnody. 
 
 " I touch this flower of silken leaves 
 Which once his childhood knew ; 
 Its soft leaves wound me with a grief 
 Whose balsam never grew. 
 
 I see my trees repair their boughs, 
 
 Returned this day, the south wind searches 
 And finds young pines and budding birches, 
 But finds not the budding man ! " 
 
THE GERMAXTOIVX PASTORATE 2JJ 
 
 But spring whispers its word of hope and res 
 toration, and all things point onward. 
 
 My life flows on quite busily and very pleas 
 antly. I fall back into the pastoral life as natu 
 rally as if I had never left it. Did I write you 
 that I was keeping house ? I like it, though it 
 is a little solitary. But I fancy its solitude is 
 preferable to the society of a boarding-house. 
 
 TO MRS. G. L. s. 
 
 GERMANTOWN, January 18, 1879. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, The little vase to-day 
 holds a half-open white camellia and a spray of 
 dark purple heliotrope. Are there not some days 
 and some experiences, all fair and unshadowed, 
 which yet bear in them none of the spiritual 
 fragrance that comes from the heart of darkly 
 shadowed ones ? That thought or fancy came to 
 me as I looked at the flowers. I wonder what 
 meaning you would have read in them ? 
 
 I have delayed for too long, not to thank you 
 for your kind remembrance and the Emerson, 
 that I did at once, but to tell you that I thanked 
 you. But you were sure of it, we are always 
 sure of our friends so far as that. But if we do 
 not hear we are not sure that our gift ever 
 reached them. 
 
 We have had the bare earth till now, which I 
 
278 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 don t like to lose from my eyes ; but now the 
 snow lies over all. The white snow is to me like 
 the white camellia, beautiful but heartless. Still, 
 it gives the boys snowballing and coasting and 
 sleigh-rides ; and to poor men the chance to earn 
 a little with their shovels. Did you ever see the 
 story of the tramp, who, begging in August, was 
 asked, " Why don t you work ? " Said he, " There 
 is nothing doing now in my business." " And 
 what is your business ? " " Shoveling snow." 
 
 But if the snow is cold, the golden sunsets are 
 not ; how radiant and transparent ! And this 
 morning I saw a golden sunrise from my 
 pillow. 
 
 Among the guests in Mr. Longfellow s home, 
 it was natural that the young should be espe 
 cially welcome. Living near the large German- 
 town Academy (the picturesque old building of 
 which peculiarly interested him), he became 
 familiarly acquainted with the pupils, whose 
 sports he loved to watch, and who learned to 
 confide frankly in him. He went frequently 
 among them, and they came often in groups or 
 singly to his house. For their freer access, he 
 had a gateway opened in his fence. It was, per 
 haps, one of these boys who afterwards said, " I 
 used to be very much ashamed to have anybody 
 
THE GERMANTOWN PASTORATE 279 
 
 caress me in the presence of others ; but Xvhen 
 Mr. Longfellow did so, I felt proud and happy." 
 But with boys in all parts of the town Mr. Long 
 fellow established an acquaintance. Many were 
 familiar with him who did not know his name. 
 " That kind gentleman " was a title which, as in 
 another town, was applied" to him by one of 
 these. 
 
 A gentleman, searching for Mr. Longfellow s 
 house, asked a street boy to direct him to it. 
 The answer told its own story. " What ! Don t 
 you know Jiim ? Why every one knows where he 
 lives!" 
 
 It must be confessed that to his kind words 
 and ways he added certain innocent, tangible 
 attractions. "A friend of mine," writes a lady, 
 " saw him on the street one winter s morning, 
 with each arm around a shabbily dressed boy, 
 while he was encouraging a third to search the 
 pockets of his overcoat. She could not resist 
 awaiting the result, and the urchin discovered 
 candy ! " Another writes, " Once, in a provision 
 store, I met Mr. Longfellow looking at apples. 
 He was picking out a barrel, that the Academy 
 boys might help themselves when they came to 
 his house, and he asked me if I did not think 
 that boys liked red apples best. 
 
 He loved to gather children about his bachelor 
 
280 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 table, and make them feel at home in his house. 
 It was quite usual to find several little people 
 engaged with him in talk, or amusing themselves 
 with his books and pictures. " One day when I 
 stopped to see him on some church-work, I found 
 him with a boy (quite a little one) on each side of 
 him and a huge book of animals open before 
 them. Knowing that he had some fine illustrated 
 fairy stories, I reminded him that the children 
 would enjoy those. But Mr. Longfellow replied, 
 No, not these little Friends ; we like the animals 
 and birds best. Later, he told me that he 
 always put his imaginative books away when 
 those boys visited him, fearing that he might 
 show them something which their Quaker par 
 ents might not like." 
 
 One very little fellow became at last impressed 
 with a deficiency in this household of one. Din 
 ing with him, the child suddenly observed, " But, 
 Mr. Longfellow, where is your wife?" "I have 
 none," was the reply. " You have n t got any ? " 
 (incredulously). " No, I have n t any." " Did n t 
 you ever have one ? " " No." " Why did n t 
 you? " "Perhaps I never found the right one." 
 "Did you hunt after her?" "At this point," 
 said Mr. Longfellow, much amused at the inci 
 dent, "I thought it time to turn the conversa 
 tion." 
 
THE GERMANTOWN PASTORATE 28 1 
 
 But fond as he was of all children, some of the 
 little girls had a feeling that his preference was 
 for the boys. One of them taxed him with this, 
 and commissioned a friend to demand why it 
 should be so. He seemed to admit the partiality 
 when, after a moment, he replied, " Tell her it is, 
 perhaps, because I never was a little girl." 
 
 Mr. Longfellow s spirit of charity led him into 
 a similar wide acquaintance among the humble 
 families of the town. In his quiet but observant 
 way, he discovered many cases of suffering and 
 want, and brought them relief, either through 
 public agencies or from his own means, which 
 were always disproportionately taxed for objects 
 of kindness. The poor knew and loved him as 
 the children did. 
 
 But his sympathy went out especially to those 
 burthened by the distresses of the mind and 
 heart. To hear of persons in trouble, or doubt, 
 or sorrow was, with him, to seek out some way 
 of reaching them with comfort, or guidance, or 
 encouragement, often while he remained un 
 known. 
 
 " Mr. Longfellow s aesthetic instincts," writes 
 a friend, " and his love for historical associations 
 led him to take a great interest in the old things 
 of Germantown ; his liking for the quaint people 
 in their odd little shops, with their conservative 
 
282 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 ways, offered a marked contrast to his progressive 
 tendencies in thought. During his last visit to 
 us he said, referring to the changes taking place 
 in town, the pulling down of old houses, I don t 
 like changes ; I hope they will leave some of the 
 old places, for we need links with the past gen 
 erations ; there are few enough in America at 
 the best. 
 
 " The only time I ever heard him quote from 
 his brother s writings, in private, was in speaking 
 of my grandfather s house and the alterations 
 which had been made in it during fifty years 
 past, when he repeated from The Golden Mile 
 stone, 
 
 " Happy he whom neither wealth nor fashion 
 Nor the march of the encroaching city 
 
 Drives an exile 
 From the hearth of his ancestral homestead. " 
 
 Another of his parishioners writes as fol 
 lows : 
 
 " I hardly know how to convey my impressions 
 of Mr. Longfellow s influence in Germantown, 
 for his whole personality was so essentially spir 
 itual that it eludes one s effort to portray it in 
 words. When, later, he died, I felt that the 
 transition from this world to the world of spirit 
 would be to him a very natural change, a much 
 shorter step than it could be in most lives, for 
 
THE GERMANTOWN PASTORATE 283 
 
 there seemed to be in his nature so little that 
 tied him to earthly things. 
 
 " He was not an active worker in the days 
 when we knew him ; largely because of his del 
 icate health, but also from temperament. He 
 thought, truly, that the weight of one s personal 
 influence lent to any cause was always one s best 
 assistance to it. What he was, was always much 
 more important than what he did. He strongly 
 disliked argument, and had a quiet way of letting 
 a subject drop and introducing a new topic if 
 there seemed to be danger of increasing warmth 
 in a conversation. He had no desire to convince 
 others that they were in the wrong, except by 
 standing himself quietly and firmly on the other 
 side. 
 
 " In this way there sometimes seemed in him 
 a lack of warmth, which made him more espe 
 cially the preacher to the older and maturer 
 minds of his congregation, rather than to the 
 glowing enthusiasts of our younger circle. 
 
 "Yet many of his quiet bits of philosophy 
 sank deeply into our young hearts, and were a 
 real balm for us in that time of stress and strain 
 which comes to those who, while feeling that 
 they must struggle for something higher, are 
 not quite sure of their aim. I remember one 
 sermon, in particular, on Secondary Motives. 
 
284 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 It was, in the main, a plea for conventionality, 
 that bugbear of youth, and he said that to do a 
 thing because it was polite was almost always to 
 do it because it was kind ; that in most ways 
 the laws of society had grown to be a code of 
 kindness and consideration for others, and in 
 general they were safer to follow than one s own 
 crude sense of ideal propriety. 
 
 " His attitude on the subject of Temperance 
 at one time disturbed me a little ; but I found 
 an answer to my questionings in a sermon he 
 preached upon * Evil, the misuse of good, the 
 good gone wrong; that only in perfect liberty 
 can there be perfect obedience to law ; and my 
 mind settled itself upon this subject for all time. 
 
 " I remember a phrase which he used in a mar 
 riage-service, which was thoroughly characteristic 
 and showed his fondness for putting his own in 
 terpretation into others words. In pronouncing 
 the benediction he said, If God has joined . . . 
 let no man put asunder. 
 
 " He had the deepest appreciation of home and 
 home life ; and we all of us wished that his own 
 experience might have included that love which 
 alone gives ideal beauty and blessing to home 
 life. In a letter to me he wrote the following 
 childlike sentiment : I am glad you are so 
 happy in your new life, and I see no reason why 
 
THE GERMANTOWN PASTORATE 285 
 
 your happiness should not continue and increase. 
 I remember once being told by a lady, whom I 
 knew when a young boy, that love is often 
 stronger after marriage than before. 
 
 " This gives a glimpse, I think, into his entirely 
 theoretical relations to this subject." 
 
 In this connection the following letter may be 
 inserted, although written by Mr. Longfellow in 
 1857. 
 
 " Your marriage day is very near, and before 
 my return you will have begun your new life 
 and departed for your new home. As I can 
 not be with you in person at this time, I must 
 let my pen do its office, at least so far as to as 
 sure you that an occasion so full of interest to 
 you cannot fail to be of interest to me, and that 
 I enter with friendly sympathy into the new 
 hopes that open before you. 
 
 " Doubtless those hopes, however warmly they 
 glow in your heart, still float somewhat vaguely 
 in your thoughts, and your ideal of a true mar 
 ried life lies high and beautiful yet undefined in 
 the heavens of your soul. And as the months 
 of reality go by, the hope and the ideal may fade 
 somewhat. Do not be disappointed if they do ; 
 do not expect an immediate realization of them. 
 Yet, I beseech you, do not give up the hope, nor 
 let the ideal go ; recognize the present limita- 
 
286 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 tions ; yet fulfill, as much as you can, your best 
 thought of what the relation should be and should 
 accomplish. At first, doubtless, your affection 
 will make all the new duties easy ; but the time 
 must come when you will need patience and self- 
 sacrifice and a strong sense of duty. These will 
 deepen the love and spiritualize it and keep it 
 strong and true enough to meet every emergency. 
 
 " It is much that any man has given his hap 
 piness into your keeping. But that is not all. 
 For it is more to feel that another s spiritual life 
 is, in a great measure, in your charge. It has 
 been said of the true wife that, with a heart at 
 once pious and large, she forever improves the 
 man she has wedded. 
 
 " To call out all this highest nature, to sympa 
 thize with and encourage every noblest purpose 
 and aspiration, this is indeed a high and beau 
 tiful service for one soul to do for another. And 
 this is what husband and wife can do, as perhaps 
 none others can. 
 
 " That you will find this accomplished for you 
 and your husband, I sincerely hope. That your 
 union will be a spiritual union, a sympathy and 
 communion of your inmost natures, I earnestly 
 trust. Then it will be indeed the beginning of 
 new life to you. For true spiritual love is the 
 image and presence of God, and when it dwells 
 
THE GERMANTOWN PASTORATE 287 
 
 in a soul God dwells there. May his blessing 
 accompany all your way ! " 
 
 While still living in Germantown, a genuine 
 sorrow befell Mr. Longfellow in the death of his 
 friend Samuel Johnson. The two had been pro 
 foundly intimate for forty years. Their thoughts 
 had flowed in parallel channels ; their principles 
 and aims were completely harmonized. Their 
 habits and modes of life were similar. In tem 
 perament, they were sufficiently contrasted to 
 make friendship delightful and intercourse mu 
 tually helpful. The advanced position which 
 both held in religion and philosophy, and the 
 strong bent of their minds to individualism in 
 thought and action, largely isolated them from 
 other thinkers and workers in their chosen field, 
 and made the confidence they gave each other, 
 and their community of views, the more precious 
 to each. Their personal association was close 
 and constant ; their correspondence frequent, 
 and as affectionate and interesting on the part 
 of Mr. Johnson as we have found it to be on the 
 part of Mr. Longfellow. 
 
 Such a friendship could not be suspended by 
 the parting of death without a deep sense of be 
 reavement to the survivor ; nor could it end on 
 earth without its memorial. During the year 
 following Mr. Johnson s death, Mr. Longfellow 
 
288 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 (as has already been mentioned) gathered up 
 some of his lectures , essays, and sermons into a 
 volume, prefixing a memorial sketch through 
 which the love he bore his friend, and the ad 
 miration he felt for his character, talents, and 
 scholarship, and for his services to morals and to 
 literature, are brightly conspicuous. 
 
 It was a still nearer bereavement, following 
 closely upon the other, which led to the termi 
 nation of Mr. Longfellow s beautiful ministry in 
 Germantown. In March, 1882, died his beloved 
 brother Henry. From the death - bedside and 
 funeral of the poet he returned to his people full 
 of tender feeling, but oppressed by no gloom of 
 sorrow. On the following Sunday he preached 
 to them an uplifting sermon, into which the spir 
 itual experiences of the time were gathered, full 
 of faith and thankfulness. But the duty at once 
 occurred, which no other could so fittingly dis 
 charge, of preparing a memoir of his brother. 
 He very soon announced to his congregation 
 that, on this account, he must withdraw from 
 them, and although the parting was an occasion 
 of sorrowful regret to all, the necessity for it 
 was fully recognized. 
 
XV 
 
 CLOSING YEARS IN CAMBRIDGE 
 
 RESIGNING his pulpit, in 1882, Mr. Longfellow 
 returned to Cambridge, and took up his abode 
 again in the familiar Craigie House. How much 
 he had come to be at home in Germantown, he 
 was made aware as he revived old associations. 
 " I was surprised to find," he wrote, " that I felt 
 quite strange in coming back to my old quar 
 ters." His affections were never weaned from 
 his Germantown people, and so long as he lived 
 he maintained friendly relations with them, inter 
 changing frequent letters and other tokens of 
 regard with some who had been peculiarly inti 
 mate with him. 
 
 TO MRS. H. M. S. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, May 27, 1883. 
 
 ... I have been doing a good deal of garden 
 ing the last fortnight, and trust the seeds I have 
 sown will repay me for my tired back. But it is 
 quite an act si faith (almost as much as preach 
 ing sermons, the sowing of spiritual seeds) when 
 
290 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 one remembers that the seed is not always good, 
 and that sometimes there is too much rain, and 
 sometimes too hot a sun ; and that if the birds 
 of the air do not carry them off, sometimes Sa 
 tan in the form of small Irish boys carries off 
 the plants bodily ; as has happened to some of 
 my handsome pansies. But I am glad that they 
 like flowers. It might be good for them if I 
 should set out some of the plants called * Hon 
 esty." . . . 
 
 TO MRS. C. B. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, September 23, 1883. 
 
 I have been grieved to hear, within a few days, 
 that your health, which I had hoped and believed 
 quite restored, is not yet established. I know 
 your courage and patience will not fail you in 
 this longer trial, nor your trust in the Father s 
 infinite goodness and the nearness of his presence 
 to help us bear every burden. The burden He 
 does not always take away ; but He lightens it, 
 oh, how much ! by the tender trust in his power 
 to make all things work for good. I hope you 
 may be already regaining your strength, but most 
 of all I pray that you may every hour be 
 " strengthened with all might in the inner man," 
 renewed " day by day." How many things are 
 explained by this our double life, the outward 
 
CLOSING YEARS IN CAMBRIDGE 2QI 
 
 and the inward, and how the experiences of life 
 teach us that it is the inward that is the real and 
 the significant and the lasting. I am sure that 
 the more we are accustomed to look at things in 
 their inward bearing and aspect and conse 
 quences, the more truly we see them as God sees 
 and means them. And in that way we find many 
 things in his providence made clearer which else 
 would seem dark and strange. But how beauti 
 ful, also, it is to trust, where we cannot see, and 
 to believe, where we cannot explain ! . . . 
 
 TO MRS. H. M. s. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, November 19, 1884. 
 
 It is snowing outside, and I am here alone, in 
 the study, with a fire and a pen. 
 
 What a contrast to the Indian summer days I 
 left in Germantown ! Perhaps they have ended 
 even there ; but I don t believe it is snowing. 
 
 My visit was a delightful one, and it was a 
 charming way to end up the season. The coun 
 try, so lovely in its sober late autumn colors of 
 olive and russet and deep red ; the friendly greet 
 ings and hospitalities ; the lunches, the dinners, 
 the teas ; the pictures at the Academy ; the 
 happiness of the wedding ; the hours in the 
 church, all these things live in memory. How 
 good God is to us, so to fashion our natures 
 
SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 that we can enjoy not only the actual having of 
 things, but the memory of them ; and often we 
 must add the anticipation, making a threefold 
 enjoyment. . . . 
 
 Mr. Chadwick and the church in Brooklyn to 
 which I once ministered wish me to come and 
 take part in the twentieth anniversary of my 
 successor s installation. What a long ministry, 
 for these days ! Should you think he would 
 have anything left to say ? But some things 
 have to be said over more than once. . . . 
 
 TO MRS. G. L. S. 
 [During a visit to Germantown.] 
 
 GERMANTOWN, April 21, 1886. 
 
 ... I am enjoying to the full the exquisite plea 
 sure of the unfolding green ; the trees not yet 
 " clothed upon," but just veiled ; a bed of white 
 violets under my window, Forsythia and the 
 Japanese quince ; by the roadside the blue violet. 
 Oh, the enchantment, the magic, the sweet mira 
 cle of nature s ways ! the stones made bread and 
 the water turned to wine for the hunger and 
 thirst of our souls ! This beautiful world we live 
 in and the Supreme Beauty it hides and reveals ! 
 These costly pictures given freely to every passer 
 by ! Oh, the depth of the riches of the goodness 
 of God ! 
 
CLOSING YEARS IN CAMBRIDGE 293 
 
 The gift comes to each of us as if made espe 
 cially for him, and yet to each of us, if we think 
 of it, enhanced by its being meant and made for 
 all, and for each only as one of the all. 
 
 And now, as I look out, the white violets have 
 taken wings and are flying about above the beds 
 like white butterflies. 
 
 That is the Easter symbol, and shall be my 
 Easter greeting. 
 
 TO MRS. IT. M. S. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, May 20, 1886. 
 
 ... It seems to me most reasonable and right 
 to believe that the thoughts and affections of 
 those who have passed through the veil are still 
 with us, as ours are with them. All that is 
 "gone " is the visible and tangible form in which 
 the thoughts and affections were enshrined. And 
 that is much, for it is endeared to us as express 
 ing the inward and invisible person whom we 
 really love ; but the spirit is not gone, for I can 
 not believe that the dropping-off of the body, 
 which is only its garment, can change that. 
 
XVI 
 
 THE BIOGRAPHY 
 
 SETTLED in familiar Cambridge, Mr. Longfel 
 low applied himself diligently to the biography 
 of his brother, which occupied him quite fully for 
 nearly four years. He felt that of one whose 
 works had made him so widely known and loved, 
 there should exist an exhaustive account ; while 
 he wished and trusted that, from it, memoirs, 
 briefer and adapted to wider circulation, might 
 be composed. He even urged upon Mr. James 
 Russell Lowell, who had lately completed such a 
 biography of Hawthorne, to write a one-volume 
 memoir of his neighbor and friend and brother- 
 poet. Mr. Longfellow s own work was one of 
 devoted love and reverence for the man, as well 
 as admiration for the poet, and he spared no 
 pains to give it accuracy and completeness. But 
 he rejoices when the long task is ended ! 
 
 TO MRS. H. M. S. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, December 31, 1885. 
 
 I am like a schoolboy who begins to see the 
 vacation approaching. In a month from now my 
 
THE BIOGRAPHY 295 
 
 work will be done, and the burden rolled off from 
 my shoulders. 
 
 I want the publishers to issue it on February 
 27, the poet s birthday. There is so little of in 
 cident and adventure in the life of a literary man 
 that only those who are already interested in his 
 writings will find interest in his biography. There 
 will be plenty of faults in my work, some of which 
 I shall see for the first time when the book is 
 printed and bound, but I shall not tell anybody 
 what they are. . . . 
 
 TO A SISTER. 
 
 February 17, 1886. 
 
 And so my long work is finished ! I can hardly 
 tell how it has lasted so long. But a large part 
 of it makes no appearance in the book, the 
 reading, sifting, choosing, deciding, rejecting ; 
 yet, on the whole, I am well satisfied. Do you 
 know that letters do not read as well in print as 
 in manuscript ? . . . 
 
 TO MRS. H. M. S. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, 1886. 
 
 ... I think you will find a singular unity run 
 ning through the book in several ways. Those 
 who knew my brother personally will recognize 
 the same qualities of character in the man that 
 
296 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 were in the boy; only that the quick temper was 
 completely controlled. Then his early purpose 
 of distinction in literature, beginning at seventeen, 
 in college, and fulfilling itself at seventy, never 
 lost sight of in the interval. One might even 
 note the interest in the Indians shown in his first 
 poor printed poem, coming out in college in an 
 exhibition dialogue, then in mid-life culminating 
 in " Hiawatha." You will observe also the gentle 
 humor that runs through his letters and diaries, 
 something of which you noticed in "Outre-Mer." 
 
 We have had a wonderfully pleasant March. 
 What an exhilaration of feeling comes with the 
 first spring days ; and what pleasant associations 
 from away back in childhood ! 
 
 Do you remember a pleasant-faced youth whom 
 I brought one evening to our church parlor, a 
 young artist ? Son of a Methodist clergyman, he 
 has become, mostly by his own reflection and 
 study, a Unitarian, so he writes me. I believe 
 more would do so, if they did a little more think 
 ing. . . . 
 
 Mr. Longfellow s life, while engaged upon the 
 memoir, was of the quietude and sunny cheerful 
 ness which were characteristic of him. Its one 
 especial incident was the occurrence of his seven 
 tieth birthday, June 18, 1889. The observance 
 
THE BIOGRAPHY 297 
 
 of the anniversary by his friends, and their kind 
 forethought to make it happy, touched him ten 
 derly, as appears in some of the letters which 
 follow. 
 
 TO MRS. G. L. S. 
 
 INTERVALE, July 22, 1888. 
 
 "And the mountains shall bring peace," says 
 the Hebrew prophet. Can I send you some of 
 the restfulness of this interval amongst the hills ? 
 Here all is strength and beauty, not sublimity or 
 terror. The ranges of hills which encircle us 
 for four fifths of our horizon do not imprison, but 
 only guard us. The loftier peaks and slopes are 
 just far enough away to take on every lovely 
 change of blue, in turn. The nearer wooded hills 
 show all tints of green, light or dark as sunshine 
 or cloud-shadow lies upon them, and at evening 
 sink into a deep velvet hue that has no name. 
 Wordsworth says of his hero that, returning at 
 night, he "saw all the hills grow larger in the 
 dark." But it is not so here; to my eye they 
 look distinctly smaller. One hesitates to differ 
 from so close an observer as Wordsworth. I 
 think his line may be true of hills that are very 
 near to the observer. 
 
 Did I ever tell you that when, as a little child, 
 I said my prayers, I always thought that " thine 
 
298 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 be the glory " meant the "morning-glory " ? So 
 it is my sacred flower. 
 
 TO MRS. G. L. S. 
 
 CRAIGIE HOUSE, January, 1890. 
 
 Your red and white azaleas stand shining upon 
 the table before me. What vigorous flowers they 
 are, and so generous ! 
 
 With their green leaves and ferns they make 
 the Italian colors. Do you remember the story 
 of the Italian prima.donna who, singing in Milan, 
 under the old Austrian oppression, when every 
 Italian manifestation was forbidden - I have 
 really forgotten what she did (so I hope you do 
 remember), but in some way, by means of flow 
 ers, she indicated her love of Italy and hatred 
 of Austria. Now it comes to me! When the 
 patriots in the audience threw her bouquets of 
 red, white, and green, she placed them in her 
 bosom ; the authorities then forbade her to pick 
 them up. The next night they threw on the 
 stage bouquets of the Austrian colors, and she 
 quietly walked over them, thus treading them 
 under her feet. . . 
 
THK RIOGRArilY 299 
 
 TO MRS. G. L. S. 
 
 [No date.] 
 
 I thought of you in the still solitude of Wil- 
 loughby Lake, and wished that you might have 
 entered into its quiet. Yet where could you go 
 that you would not feel the something that should 
 be there to satisfy the hunger of your heart, and 
 is not ? 
 
 When years and years have knit the outward 
 ties and twined them so closely with the inward 
 that they grow as indistinguishable almost as 
 color and fragrance in the flower, how can that 
 all be changed, "in an instant," and the tendrils 
 of our eve ry feeling be torn off that which they 
 clung to and grew into, without unspeakable des 
 olation and bewildered sense of loss ? How Ions: 
 
 O 
 
 will it take to exchange, at every point, this out 
 ward for the inward it signifies, the twined spirit 
 ual and material for the spiritual alone ? How 
 long? How often that question must arise in 
 your heart ! Yet it will come ; you cannot tell 
 when. Not with observation, not all at once, 
 the peace that passeth understanding. Already 
 you have experience of it in some calm sweet 
 hours of spiritual presence. And then will more 
 and more be vouchsafed to you, and the tossed 
 waves of your heart spread out into still waters. 
 
3<DO SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 By such lake-sides of the Spirit I hope you 
 have often been sitting, and seen the heavens 
 reflected in that uplifting calm, as at Willoughby 
 we used to see the sunset glories in the sky and 
 water between the sentinel cliffs. 
 
 I hope, at least, that to your ear may come the 
 bird-song, which, because it is a voice, touches 
 our hearts more deeply than even the flowers can 
 do, in their silence. 
 
 But if you are shut from these too, may the 
 Spirit visit you, not through symbols, but by that 
 immediate vision and presence, that secret 
 whisper to the soul which fills it with holy peace, 
 as it leads to the green pastures and still waters, 
 as you lay your troubled heart to rest ifi the ever 
 lasting arms ! So prays for you 
 
 Your friend, S. L. 
 
 TO A SISTER. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, June 20, 1889. 
 
 Thanks for the beautiful little pencil. It will 
 be in constant use, and constantly remind me of 
 the giver. I have a particular liking for small 
 things. I do not know whether it is a sign of 
 advancing age. I find that even my handwriting 
 grows smaller. It is not yet as small as Mr. G. s, 
 which was nearly invisible in his last years. 
 Henry s remained large and firm to the last. 
 
THE BIOGRAPHY 30 1 
 
 You will want to know about the birthday. 
 The affair opened by the arrival of the first guest 
 on Monday afternoon. Mrs. Fields came up 
 from Manchester to attend our niece s afternoon 
 reception to the working-women from some of 
 the Boston stores. About thirty of them wan 
 dered through the rooms and walked in the gar 
 den and sat on the piazza. I read to them the 
 account of the Craigie House from "The Life," 
 and she read some of the poems. . . . Mrs. Fields 
 brought me a box of lovely delicate and fragrant 
 sweet-brier roses. The next morning she pre 
 sented me with a fine etched portrait of James 
 Martineau, a strong and earnest face. At break 
 fast came a great bunch of carnations from one 
 of my boy friends ; then a box of fine red roses 
 from Mrs. Spellman ; then came C. with her 
 smallest boy bringing a bouquet. Flowers poured 
 in during the day. Dear Mrs. Nichols sent a 
 pretty basket of roses set in a glass of water so 
 that they did not have to be removed ; Went- 
 worth Higginson a large basket of " seventy 
 roses ; " M. a bouquet with white roses from the 
 old Portland bush ; C. a box of fine florist s roses, 
 and so on. There were notes from Edward 
 Hale and Sam Eliot, both of whom had engage 
 ments elsewhere. About five o clock came Wil 
 liam and Harriet P., bringing a large book and a 
 
302 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 small one, the latter a tiny scrap-book, in which, 
 at the age of eleven, I had copied some verses, 
 as we used to do. 
 
 Presently A. came to me and said, " It can be 
 kept secret no longer ; come into the front parlor 
 and see your surprise." I went, and found Mr. 
 Kneisel, Mr. Loeffler, and Mr. Foote, with piano, 
 violin, and cello, who said they would play me 
 some trios of Beethoven. Others came in, and 
 the music was delicate and charming. Ices and 
 strawberries were served, and all was very plea 
 sant and cordial. 
 
 TO MRS. G. L. s. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, June 19, 1889. 
 
 Seventy thanks, or, seventy times seven, for 
 your beautiful and thoughtful gifts on my birth 
 day ! 
 
 I did very much hope that you would yourself 
 be able to come. I would have found a quiet 
 corner for you in the front parlor, where a few 
 of us sat awhile and listened to such music as 
 would have charmed and rested you. . . . 
 
 Some fifty of my Cambridge friends came with 
 kind greetings and flowers, and warmed the cool 
 day with their friendliness. It was very pleasant, 
 and I was not at all tired. When I woke up this 
 morning at six o clock, I felt decidedly younger ; 
 but now I have got back into seventy again. 
 
THE BIOGRAPHY 303 
 
 But it is much to be thankful for, I am not 
 forgetful of it, to have lived seventy happy, 
 peaceful, and not useless years. And what a 
 time to have been living in ! 
 
 The wreath was exquisite, in the most delicate 
 tints of rose and white and pale yellow, as 
 lovely as a Beethoven trio. 
 
 Ever your obliged S. L. 
 
 John Holmes, some years my senior, sent me 
 some very nice stanzas, as good as his brother 
 would have written. 
 
XVII 
 
 LAST DAYS 
 
 THE gentle, gracious life of Samuel Longfellow 
 was now near its peaceful close. 
 
 In the late autumn of 1891, a sorrow fell upon 
 the household of one of his brothers, and he went 
 to Portland to be with the family. "A more 
 lovely, calming influence in a home was never 
 known." There was no apprehension at the time 
 that he would be the next to leave the earthly 
 circle of his friends and relatives. Yet his vigor 
 was noticeably impaired, and during the visit, 
 while he never alluded to his condition, he some 
 times seemed languid, and even depressed. 
 
 The next July he went again to his native city, 
 and spent several weeks in the ancient house 
 where he was born. He was now distinctly 
 unwell, the disease from which he had been for 
 so many years a sufferer evidently making rapid 
 progress. But in August he was able to join his 
 brother s family at the seashore, on Cape Eliza 
 beth, a few miles from Portland. Here ensued a 
 sudden and violent attack, which the physicians 
 
LAST DAYS 305 
 
 at once pronounced the beginning of the end. 
 After a little time he rallied, and for a few weeks 
 it was even hoped that he was not to be called 
 away. His old friend Edward Everett Hale came 
 to see him, and their meeting was most merry, 
 full of boyish recollections and mutual reminders 
 of early days, of woodland rambles and boating- 
 excursions in Portland harbor, when neither of 
 them knew much of the sailor s craft. His rela 
 tives were constantly about him, but their fond 
 wish, and his own, that he might be removed 
 again to one of their homes, and especially to 
 that which had been his birthplace, could not be 
 gratified. He expressed no disappointment, and 
 spoke only once of the change which was plainly 
 approaching. He had been slightly wandering 
 in mind, then became quiet, and it was thought 
 that he was sleeping. Presently, quite in his 
 natural voice, he spoke to a young relative at 
 his bedside, asking if she recalled the lines of 
 Whittier s "Hampton Beach," beginning 
 
 " The soul may know 
 No fearful change, nor sudden wonder, 
 Nor sink the weight of mystery under, 
 But with the upward rise, and with the vastness grow/ 
 
 These he repeated almost entire, adding from 
 the following stanza, 
 
 " Familiar as our childhood s stream, 
 Or pleasant memory of a dream." 
 
306 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 In the early morning of October 3d, just as 
 the sunlight was beginning to stream into the 
 room, in perfect peace, he died. 
 
 A few days later, in the ancient homestead 
 where he was born, brief exercises of devotion 
 and commemoration were conducted amidst the 
 family to whom he had been so dear. A public 
 service followed, in the old First Parish Church, 
 where he had been taught to worship as a child. 
 Thence his remains were carried to the family 
 tomb in the Western Cemetery, a picturesque, 
 overgrown retreat, very quiet and rural, and a fit 
 ting resting place for what was mortal of Samuel 
 Longfellow. 
 
AFTER this book was ready for the press, informa 
 tion was received that on Sunday, March 25, 1894, 
 a bronze tablet to the memory of Mr. Longfellow was 
 unveiled in their church, by the Second Unitarian 
 Society of Brooklyn. It bears the following inscrip 
 tion : 
 
 SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 
 
 MINISTER 
 OF THIS SOCIETY FROM APRIL 1853 TO JUNE 1860. 
 
 A MAX OF GENTLE NATURE, LIBERAL CULTURE, LOVING 
 HEART A FAITHFUL PREACHER AND PASTOR EARNEST 
 
 IN REFORM THE FRIEND OF LITTLE CHILDREN. 
 A POET OF RELIGION, HE GAVE US MANY PERFECT 
 
 SONGS OF HOPE AND CHEER. 
 
 BORN JUNE 13, 1819 >J< DIED OCTOBER 3, 1892. 
 "TO BE SPIRITUALLY MINDED IS LIFE AND PEACE." 
 

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
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 MOV 18 1959 
 
 >21-100m.l2, 46(A2012sl6)4120 
 
 APR 2 
 
 APR 2 C 
 
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M19694 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY