diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-08 09:09:54 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-08 09:09:54 -0800 |
| commit | 667b7d579d6d26a3d60acc041a23038358c6bb94 (patch) | |
| tree | 7321ebfaf814b0e2be0528b825e6ccee41148a81 | |
| parent | 928f438dc1fbd232a7520369d3ece61f3b23498c (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | 57776-0.txt | 390 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 57776-h/57776-h.htm | 6122 |
2 files changed, 4 insertions, 6508 deletions
diff --git a/57776-0.txt b/57776-0.txt index 8d7731a..ea86456 100644 --- a/57776-0.txt +++ b/57776-0.txt @@ -1,31 +1,7 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of James Russell Lowell, A Biography; vol. 1/2, by -Horace Elisha Scudder +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 57776 *** -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license -Title: James Russell Lowell, A Biography; vol. 1/2 - -Author: Horace Elisha Scudder - -Release Date: August 26, 2018 [EBook #57776] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL V.1/2 *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif, MWS, Bryan Ness and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) @@ -11982,366 +11958,4 @@ January, 1861. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of James Russell Lowell, A Biography; vol. 1/2, by Horace Elisha Scudder -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL V.1/2 *** - -***** This file should be named 57776-0.txt or 57776-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/7/7/57776/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif, MWS, Bryan Ness and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at -http://gutenberg.org/license). - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at -http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at -809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email -business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact -information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official -page at http://pglaf.org - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit http://pglaf.org - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 57776 *** diff --git a/57776-h/57776-h.htm b/57776-h/57776-h.htm index 966ddc5..079d8ed 100644 --- a/57776-h/57776-h.htm +++ b/57776-h/57776-h.htm @@ -117,43 +117,7 @@ background-color:#ffffff;font-variant:normal;font-style:normal;font-weight:norma <body> -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of James Russell Lowell, A Biography; vol. 1/2, by -Horace Elisha Scudder - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: James Russell Lowell, A Biography; vol. 1/2 - -Author: Horace Elisha Scudder - -Release Date: August 26, 2018 [EBook #57776] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL V.1/2 *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif, MWS, Bryan Ness and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 57776 ***</div> <hr class="full" /> @@ -6778,6089 +6742,7 @@ Ticknor’s or Nichols’s as it may chance....</p> <p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Reader, walk up’ etc., as far as ‘ruinous rate’ in large italics in old-fashioned style in an inverted cone</p> <div style="text-align:center;"> -<pre> - \ / - \ / - \ / - A - -down to Fable for Critics in very large</pre> -</div> - -<p class="nind"> caps. Then the rest in small -caps properly broken up so as to conceal the fact of the rhyme.<a name="FNanchor_72_72" id="FNanchor_72_72"></a><a href="#Footnote_72_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a></p> - -<p>You will like the tribute to our Massachusetts. It is clearly the best -passage in the poem, and you will see how adroitly it comes back to the -<i>theme</i>, the general comic and satiric tone, of the rest.”</p> - -<p>The date on the rhymed title-page was antici<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_250" id="page_250">{250}</a></span>pated a little, for the -book was advertised for 20 October, and delivered on the 25th. A -thousand copies had been printed from type and were quickly disposed of. -The little book was then stereotyped and a second edition issued the -first of the New Year, with the new preface which is still attached to -the poem. In February it had gone to a third edition, but at the end of -November, 1849, it had not sold beyond three thousand copies, though a -fourth edition was then talked of. It is to be feared that Mr. Briggs’s -golden eggs were addled.</p> - -<p>It will be remembered that in December, 1846, Lowell wrote the amusing -lines to James Miller McKim, editor of the <i>Pennsylvania Freeman</i>, which -were printed in that paper, and are included among his collected poems -under the heading “Letter from Boston.” In the same frolicsome temper -used in “A Fable for Critics,” Lowell made rapid sketches of the -conspicuous anti-slavery people as seen at the bazaar just held in -Faneuil Hall. The success of the squib very likely suggested to him the -fun of playing the same game with the literati of the day. Both poems, -indeed, may have taken a hint from Leigh Hunt’s “The Feast of the -Poets,”<a name="FNanchor_73_73" id="FNanchor_73_73"></a><a href="#Footnote_73_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a> which had been brought afresh to Lowell’s notice, if not -disclosed to him for the first time, by the little volume “Rimini and -other Poems by Leigh Hunt,” issued by Ticknor in 1844. The measure is -the same. Phœbus Apollo also introduces the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_251" id="page_251">{251}</a></span> poets, though Hunt’s scheme -is more deliberate than Lowell’s, and there is the same disposition to -make use of unexpected rhymes. Hunt used his sauciness upon his -contemporaries, Spencer, Rogers, Montgomery, Crabbe, Hayley, Gifford, -Scott, Campbell, Moore, Southey, Coleridge, Wordsworth, Landor, and -Rose. The reader can easily pick out the names here which have well -outlived Hunt’s mockery, and those which were as well known to Hunt’s -contemporaries as are some in the “Fable” to Lowell’s. Hunt, to be sure, -confined himself to poets and poetasters, while Lowell drew his examples -from the more conspicuous writers in the United States, whether of prose -or of verse.</p> - -<p>There was little mystery about the authorship of the “Fable.” Lowell did -not put his name on the title-page, but he wrote himself all over the -book; and though the publication was anonymous, he made no objection to -the disclosure to Putnam, and apparently was careless about confining -the knowledge to Briggs, Gay, and Page. Longfellow records in his diary -under 15 June, 1848, “Passed an hour or two with Lowell, who read to me -his satire on American authors; full of fun, and with very true -portraits, as seen from that side.” It does not appear if Lowell read to -his guest what he had recently written about him in the satire. And Dr. -Holmes, to whom a copy of the book, as we have seen, was sent with the -“author’s and so forths,” acknowledged it in a letter to Lowell, in -which he characterizes it as “capital—crammed full and rammed down -hard—powder (lots of it)<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_252" id="page_252">{252}</a></span>—shot—slugs bullets—very little wadding, -and that is gun-cotton—all crowded into a rusty looking blunderbuss -barrel as it were,—capped with a percussion preface,—and cocked with a -title-page as apropos as a wink to a joke.”<a name="FNanchor_74_74" id="FNanchor_74_74"></a><a href="#Footnote_74_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a></p> - -<p>Clever as are the portraits,—some of the lines are bitten in with a -little acid,—and though there are but few of the authors characterized -who have not even a more secure place to-day than then, the “Fable” can -scarcely be said ever to have had or retained much vogue as a whole. In -the excitement of writing his crackling lines Lowell believed himself to -be making a hit, but hardly had the ink dried than he saw it for what it -was, intellectual effervescence that made one hilarious for the moment. -“It seems bald and poor enough now, the Lord knows,” he wrote between -the first and second editions. Forty years afterward, however, on<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_253" id="page_253">{253}</a></span> -recalling it, he said it was the first popular thing he had written. He -never was quite easy as to his treatment of Bryant: “I am quite sensible -now,” he wrote in 1855, “that I did not do Mr. Bryant justice in the -‘Fable.’ But there was no personal feeling in what I said, though I have -regretted what I <i>did</i> say because it might seem personal.” And as late -as 1887 he characterized his poem written for Bryant’s birthday as a -kind of palinode to what he had said of him in the “Fable,” “which has -something of youth’s infallibility in it, or at any rate of youth’s -irresponsibility.” Aside from this slight uneasiness, Lowell does not -appear to have repented of any of his judgments, nor did he ever revise -the poem for subsequent editions. No doubt, the disregard of the poem -has been due largely to the ephemeral nature of much of the jocoseness. -The puns, good and bad, with which it is sprinkled, are so many notices -of “good for this time only,” and the petty personalities and trivial -bits of satire lower the average of the whole. The “Fable” must be taken -for just what it was to the author and his friends, a piece of high -spirits with which to make sport: the salt that savors it is to be found -in the few masterly characterizations and criticisms.</p> - -<p>And yet, turning away from this <i>jeu d’esprit</i> as a piece of literature, -and looking at it as a reflection of Lowell’s mind in a very ardent -passage of his life, we may justly regard with strong interest so frank -an expression, not merely of his likes and dislikes, but of the -underlying principle of criticism<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_254" id="page_254">{254}</a></span> which was native to him and found -abundant illustration from the days of the <i>Pioneer</i> to the later days -of the <i>North American Review</i>. His impatience of yard-stick criticism -and of a timid waiting upon foreign judgment, so hotly uttered in his -rapid lines, sprang from the intuitive perception and the independence -of spirit which lie at the basis of all his own criticism. This -intuitive perception was indeed that of a man who often formed hasty -impressions and was not without personal prejudice, but it was at least -a first-hand judgment, and not the composite result of other men’s -opinions, and it came from a mind through which the wind of a free -nature was always blowing. The lightning flashes which disclose the -inherent and lasting qualities of Emerson, Hawthorne, Cooper, Holmes, -Whittier, Bryant, Longfellow are all witnesses to the penetration and -clear intelligence which Lowell possessed. It must not be forgotten that -Lowell, himself only just past the period of youth, was writing of men -whose reputation is secure enough now, but who were at that time not -wholly discriminated by the general public from a number of mediocrities -who crowded about them, and there is an even-handed justice in the poem -which not unfitly is put into the mouth of that court of last resort, -Phœbus Apollo himself.</p> - -<p>The independence which goes along with the intuition is simply the -integrity of a nature which is not given to the concealment of its -judgments. As he laughingly said of himself later, he was very cock-sure -of himself at this time. In after years,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_255" id="page_255">{255}</a></span> when he was speaking in his -own voice from a more historic platform, he might choose his phrases -more deliberately, but none the less did he speak his mind out. There -was confidence in himself first and last, but the impetuous, almost -reckless utterance of his youth, when he saw things clearly as youth -does when it is conscious of breathing the air of freedom and bathing in -the light of truth, yielded only to the temper which maturity brings and -was more moderate and charitable in expression because it had the larger -vision. When one considers the eagerness with which Lowell vented -himself in the months of his close connection with the <i>Anti-Slavery -Standard</i>, one is not surprised that in a book which is at once a -defence of criticism and a swift survey of the whole field of American -letters as it lay under the eye of this knight-errant of freedom and -truth, Lowell should have displayed, with little reserve, the frankness -and impetuosity of his nature. It is only after a closer inspection that -one discovers also how sound and how generous is his judgment.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>How much satire gains from moral earnestness and a righteous scorn is -easily seen in the book which followed close on the heels of “A Fable -for Critics,” and with its pungency weakened the impression which might -otherwise have been created by its companion in literature. We have -already seen that the first number of the “Biglow Papers” appeared in -the <i>Courier</i> of Boston in June, 1846, and that Lowell reckoned on -producing a greater<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_256" id="page_256">{256}</a></span> effect by withholding his name. He told Gay that he -might very likely continue to fire from this masked battery while he was -openly keeping up with others a fusillade in the <i>Standard</i>. In point of -fact the first five numbers were printed in the <i>Courier</i>, but when the -fifth was printed, Lowell was at the beginning of his real connection -with the <i>Standard</i>, and the remaining four were printed in that paper.</p> - -<p>The series, thus begun in the <i>Courier</i> in June, 1846, was closed in the -<i>Standard</i> in September, 1848.<a name="FNanchor_75_75" id="FNanchor_75_75"></a><a href="#Footnote_75_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a> Although Lowell did not sign his name -to any of the numbers either in the <i>Courier</i> or in the <i>Standard</i>, the -authorship was a very open secret indeed. Still, he had the pleasure -which sprang from the dramatic assumption, and he took good care not to -confuse the personalities in the little comedy, by thrusting his own -real figure on the stage. As he wrote forty years later: “I had great -fun out of it. I have often wished that I could have had a literary <i>nom -de plume</i> and kept my own to myself. I shouldn’t have cared a doit what -happened to him.”</p> - -<p>A dozen years later, on the eve of the war for the Union, Mr. Hughes, -who was introducing the book to the English public, wanted Lowell to -write an historical introduction. In declining to do this,<a name="FNanchor_76_76" id="FNanchor_76_76"></a><a href="#Footnote_76_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_257" id="page_257">{257}</a></span> he gave -a brief and clear statement of his political position at the time of -writing the “Biglow Papers.” “I believed our war with Mexico (though we -had as just ground for it as a strong nation ever has against a weak -one) to be essentially a war of false pretences, and that it would -result in widening the boundaries and so prolonging the life of slavery. -Believing that it is the manifest destiny of the English race to occupy -this whole continent, and to display there that practical understanding -in matters of government and colonization which no other race has given -such proof of possessing since the Romans, I hated to see a noble hope -evaporated into a lying phrase to sweeten the foul breath of demagogues. -Leaving the sin of it to God, I believed and still believe that slavery -is the Achilles heel of our polity: that it is a temporary and false -supremacy of the white races, sure to destroy that supremacy at last, -because an enslaved people always prove themselves of more enduring -fibre than their enslavers, as not suffering from the social vices sure -to be engendered by oppression in the governing class. Against these and -many other things I thought all honest men should protest. I was born -and bred in the country, and the dialect was homely to me. I tried my -first ‘Biglow Paper’ in a newspaper and found that it had a great run. -So I wrote the others from time to time during the year which followed, -always very rapidly, and sometimes (as with ‘What Mr. Robinson thinks’) -at one sitting.”</p> - -<p>The cleverness of the refrain in this last named<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_258" id="page_258">{258}</a></span> poem started it on a -hilarious career, and it is perhaps only in one of Gilbert’s topical -songs that we can match the success of a collocation of words, where the -quaintness of turn keeps a barren phrase perennially amusing. It was -with an echo of it in his mind no doubt that when he had just done -reading the proofs of the entire volume, Lowell snapped his whip in like -fashion in a poem for the <i>Standard</i>, which he never reprinted, but -which is interesting from the diversity shown in the handling of a -single theme.</p> - -<p>In the fall of 1848, Harrison Gray Otis, writing in advocacy of the -election of Zachary Taylor, referred to an incident in 1831, when, as -Mayor of Boston, he answered an application from the Governors of -Virginia and Georgia for information respecting the persons responsible -for <i>The Liberator</i>. “Some time afterward,” he says, “it was reported to -me by the city officers that they had ferreted out the paper and its -editor: that his office was an obscure hole, his only visible auxiliary -a negro boy, and his supporters a very few insignificant persons of all -colors.” Lowell saw the letter in one of the newspapers of the day, -clipped out this sentence, pasted it on a sheet of paper, and wrote -below it, with the title “the day of small things,” the notable lines -which in his collected poems bear the heading “To W. L. Garrison.” The -poem was published in the <i>Standard</i>, 19 October, 1848, but the incident -evidently made a strong impression on him, especially when he considered -what had taken place in seventeen years;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_259" id="page_259">{259}</a></span> for immediately afterward he -wrote again, and in the number for 26 October, appeared</p> - -<p class="c"> -THE EX-MAYOR’S CRUMB OF CONSOLATION.</p> - -<p class="chead">A PATHETIC BALLAD.<a name="FNanchor_77_77" id="FNanchor_77_77"></a><a href="#Footnote_77_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a><br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Two Governors once a letter writ<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the Mayor of a distant city,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And told him a paper was published in it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That was telling the truth, and ’t was therefore fit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the same should be crushed as dead as a nit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By an Aldermanic Committee:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘Don’t say so?’ says Otis,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘I’ll enquire if so ’t is:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreadful! telling the truth? What a pity!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>It can’t be the Atlas, that’s perfectly clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And of course it isn’t the Advertiser,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’T is out of the Transcript’s appropriate sphere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Post is above suspicion: oh dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To think of such accidents happening here!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I hoped that our people were wiser.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">While we’re going,’ says Otis,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘<i>Faustissimis votis</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How very annoying such flies are!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“So, without more ado, he enquired all round<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among people of wealth and standing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But wealth looked scornful, and standing frowned;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At last in a garret with smoke imbrowned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The conspirators all together he found,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One man with a colored boy banding;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘<span class="lftspc">’</span>Pon my word,’ says Otis,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘Decidedly low t is,’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As he groped for the stairs on the landing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“So he wrote to the Governors back agen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And told them t was something unworthy of mention;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_260" id="page_260">{260}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">That t was only a single man with a pen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a font of type in a sort of den,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A person unknown to Aldermen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, of course, beneath attention;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘And therefore,’ wrote Otis,<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Annuentibus totis</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘There’s no reason for apprehension.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“But one man with a pen is a terrible thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a head and heart behind it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this one man’s words had an ominous ring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That somehow in people’s ears would cling;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘But the mob’s uncorrupted: they’ve eggs to fling;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So t is hardly worth while to mind it;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As for freedom,’ says Otis,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘I’ve given her notice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To leave town, in writing, and underlined it.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“But the one man’s helper grew into a sect,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That laughed at all efforts to check or scare it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Old parties before it were scattered and wrecked,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And respectable folks knew not what to expect;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘<span class="lftspc">’</span>Tis some consolation, at least to reflect<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And will help us, I think, to bear it,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That all this,’ says Otis,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘Though by no means <i>in votis</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Began with one man and a boy in a garret.’<span class="lftspc">”</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Lowell himself, in the Introduction which he wrote to the Second Series, -bears witness to the popularity of the “Biglow Papers” while they were -still uncollected. “Very far,” he says, “from being a popular author -under my own name, so far indeed as to be almost unread, I found the -verses of my pseudonym copied everywhere: I saw them pinned up in -workshops: I heard them quoted and their authorship debated.” It was, it -may be said, no new thing to seek to arrest the public attention with -the vernacular applied to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_261" id="page_261">{261}</a></span> public affairs. Major Jack Downing and Sam -Slick had been notable exemplars, and they had many imitators; but party -politics, or even local characteristics, may give rise to the merely -idle jest of satire; the reader who laughed over the racy narrative of -the unlettered Ezekiel, and then took up Hosea’s poem and caught the -gust of Yankee wrath and humor blown fresh in his face, knew that he was -in with the appearance of something new in American literature.</p> - -<p>After the first heat, Lowell began to distrust his mode a little. “As -for Hosea,” he writes to Briggs, “I am sorry that I began by making him -such a detestable speller. There is no fun in bad spelling of itself, -but only where the misspelling suggests something else which is droll -<i>per se</i>. You see I am getting him out of it gradually. I mean to -altogether. Parson Wilbur is about to propose a subscription for fitting -him for college, and has already commenced his education.”<a name="FNanchor_78_78" id="FNanchor_78_78"></a><a href="#Footnote_78_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a> He -dropped this intention, however, and the later numbers of the series -show no marked departure from the general scheme of Yankee spelling. -There is no doubt, though, that when it came to a revision of the papers -for final book publication, Lowell did make an attempt to introduce some -sort of consistency or effectiveness in the form. He groaned over the -labor involved, and confessed that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_262" id="page_262">{262}</a></span> made a great many alterations in -spelling even after the pages had been stereotyped. “It is the hardest -book to print,” he wrote Mr. Gay, “that ever I had anything to do with, -and, what with corrections and Mr. Wilbur’s annotations, keeps me more -employed than I care to be.”</p> - -<p>The labor was partly of his own making, but after all was consequent -chiefly upon the sense of art which led the author to do much more than -simply collect and reprint what he had written <i>currente calamo</i> in the -<i>Courier</i> and <i>Standard</i>. The great popularity attained by the -successive numbers showed him that he had hit the mark, but also the -conception of the whole grew in his mind, and he seized the opportunity -which reprinting afforded, to shape his satire and give it a body, by -filling out the characters who constituted his <i>dramatis personæ</i>. “When -I came to collect [the papers] and publish them in a volume,” he wrote -in 1859 to Mr. Hughes, in the letter already quoted, I conceived my -parson-editor with his pedantry and verbosity, his amiable vanity and -superiority to the verses he was editing, as a fitting artistic -background and foil. It gave me the chance, too, of glancing obliquely -at many things which were beyond the horizon of my other characters. I -was told afterwards that my Parson Wilbur was only Jedediah Cleishbotham -over again, and I dare say it may be so; but I drew him from the life as -well as I could, and for the authentic reasons I have mentioned.”</p> - -<p>There was a slight undercurrent of reference<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_263" id="page_263">{263}</a></span> to his own father in this -characterization. “My father,” he wrote Hughes, “was as proud of his -pedigree as a Talbot or Stanley could be, and Parson Wilbur’s -genealogical mania was a private joke between us.”<a name="FNanchor_79_79" id="FNanchor_79_79"></a><a href="#Footnote_79_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a></p> - -<p>So thoroughly did he think himself into the artistic conception of the -book that he even proposed at one time to put Jaalam on the title-page -as place of publication, and to have it “printed on brownish paper with -those little head and tail pieces which used to adorn our earlier -publications—such as hives, scrolls, urns, and the like.” This external -fitness he did not secure, but he elaborated a system of notes, -glossary, and index, letting the fun lurk in every part, and completed -the effect by the notices of an independent press, which must have made -the actual writers of book notices hesitate a little before they dropped -into their customary machine-made manner when treating of this special -work. The burlesque of Carlyle in one of these is especially clever. In -supplying all this apparatus he drew a little on his prose papers in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_264" id="page_264">{264}</a></span> -the <i>Standard</i>, but it is doubtful if most readers get beyond the verse, -or do more than glance at the drollery which lies <i>perdu</i> in the prose -equipment, so much swifter is the flight of the arrows of satire when -they are barbed with rhyme.</p> - -<p>The success of the book was immediate. The first edition of 1500 was -gone in a week, and the author could say with satisfaction that “the -book was actually out of print before a second edition could be struck -off from the plates.” In later years the book was apt to fill him with a -kind of amused astonishment. The unstinted praise which Hughes gave to -the “Biglow Papers,” quotations from which were always on his tongue’s -end, drew from Lowell the expression: “I was astonished to find what a -heap of wisdom was accumulated in those admirable volumes.” It is not -strange that, in looking back from the tranquil temper of older years, -Lowell should be struck with the high spirits, the tension of feeling, -and the abandon of utterance which characterize this work; but when he -was in the thick of the fight a second time he was more impressed by the -moral earnestness which underlay all this free lancing. “The success of -my experiment,” he wrote, in the Introduction to the Second Series, -“soon began not only to astonish me, but to make me feel the -responsibility of knowing that I held in my hand a weapon instead of the -mere fencing stick I had supposed.... If I put on the cap and bells, and -made myself one of the court fools of King Demos, it was less to make -his Majesty laugh than to win a passage to his royal ears<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_265" id="page_265">{265}</a></span> for certain -serious things which I had deeply at heart.”</p> - -<p>The force which Lowell displayed in this satire made his book at once a -powerful ally of a sentiment which heretofore had been crassly -ridiculed; it turned the tables and put Anti-slavery, which had been -fighting sturdily on foot with pikes, into the saddle, and gave it a -flashing sabre. For Lowell himself it won an accolade from King Demos. -He rose up a knight, and thenceforth possessed a freedom which was a -freedom of nature, not a simple badge of service in a single cause. His -patriotism and moral fervor found other vents in later life, and he -never sheathed the sword which he had drawn from the scabbard; but it is -significant of the stability of his genius that he was not misled into a -limitation of his powers by the sudden distinction which came to him. -For, though we naturally think first of the political significance of -the “Biglow Papers,” the book, in its fullest meaning, is an expression -of Lowell’s personality, and has in it the essence of New England. The -character of the race from which its author sprang is preserved in its -vernacular and in the characters of the <i>dramatis personæ</i>. Not -unwittingly, but in the full consciousness of his own inheritance, -Lowell became the spokesman of a racy people, whose moral force had a -certain acrid quality, and, when thrown to the winds, as in the person -of Birdofredom Sawin, was replaced by an insolent shrewdness. Nor is the -exemplification of New England less complete for that infusion of homely -sentiment and genuine<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_266" id="page_266">{266}</a></span> poetic sensibility which underlie and penetrate -the sturdy moral force.</p> - -<p>The “Biglow Papers” threw “A Fable for Critics” into the shade. It was -nearly through the press when the “Fable” was published, and Briggs, who -kept a close watch of his friend’s production, wrote: “I am pretty -confident that the ‘Fable’ will suit the market for which it is -intended, unless it should be killed by Hosea, who will help to divert -public attention from his own kind.” It is to be suspected that Lowell -himself felt the strong contrast which lay in the two works when he was -driving them through the press side by side, and rather lost interest in -the ebullition of an hour, as he threw himself with an almost exhausted -energy into a book which carried at its heart a flame of passionate -scorn. The only passage in “A Fable for Critics” which he dwelt upon -with genuine delight was his apostrophe to Massachusetts, and that is -almost out of key with the rest of the poem. But a third book was -shortly to follow and to divide with the other two the popularity which -fell to Lowell as a writer.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>It does not appear just when “The Vision of Sir Launfal” was written, -but in a letter to Briggs, dated 1 February, 1848, Lowell speaks of it -as “a sort of story, and more likely to be popular than what I write -generally. Maria thinks very highly of it. I shall probably publish it -by itself next summer.” But it was not till the “Biglow Papers” were off -his hands that Lowell took steps to print<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_267" id="page_267">{267}</a></span> the book, which was published -17 December, 1848. It was not long after that he went to Watertown for -the wedding of Mrs. Lowell’s sister with Dr. Estes Howe, and the next -day he wrote to Briggs: “I walked to Watertown over the snow with the -new moon before me and a sky exactly like that in Page’s evening -landscape. Orion was rising behind me, and as I stood on the hill just -before you enter the village, the stillness of the fields around me was -delicious, broken only by the tinkle of a little brook which runs too -swiftly for Frost to catch it. My picture of the brook in ‘Sir Launfal’ -was drawn from it. But why do I send you this description—like the -bones of a chicken I had picked? Simply because I was so happy as I -stood there, and felt so sure of doing something that would justify my -friends. But why do I not say that I <i>have</i> done something? I believe I -have done better than the world knows yet, but the past seems so little -compared with the future.” And then referring to a recent notice of him -which intimated that he was well to do, he says: “I wish I might be for -a day or two. I should like such an income as Billy Lee desired, who, -when some one asked his idea of a competence, replied, ‘A million a -minute, and your expenses paid!’ But I am richer than he thinks for. I -am the first poet who has endeavored to express the American Idea, and I -shall be popular by and by. Only I suppose I must be dead first. But I -do not want anything more than I have.”</p> - -<p>It is not very likely that Lowell was thinking<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_268" id="page_268">{268}</a></span> specifically of “Sir -Launfal” when he wrote this. It is more likely that he would have named -“Prometheus,” “Columbus,” or “Freedom” if he had been asked to name -names; and yet it is not straining language too far to say that when he -took up an Arthurian story he had a different attitude toward the whole -cycle of legends from that of Tennyson who, a half dozen years before, -had begun to revive the legends for the pleasure of English-reading -people. The exuberance of the poet as he carols of June in the prelude -to Part First is an expression of the joyous spring which was in the -veins of the young American, glad in the sense of freedom and hope. As -Tennyson threw into his retelling of Arthurian romance a moral sense, so -Lowell, also a moralist in his poetic apprehension, made a parable of -his tale, and, in the broadest interpretation of democracy, sang of the -levelling of all ranks in a common divine humanity. There is a -subterranean passage connecting the “Biglow Papers” with “Sir Launfal”; -it is the holy zeal which attacks slavery issuing in this fable of a -beautiful charity, Christ in the guise of a beggar.</p> - -<p>The invention is a very simple one, and appears to have been suggested -by Tennyson’s “Sir Galahad,” but the verses in the poem which linger -longest in the mind are not those connected with the fable, but rather -the full-throated burst of song in praise of June. Indeed, one might -seriously maintain from Lowell’s verse that there was an especial -affinity which he held with this month. Witness the joyous rush of -pleasure with which “Under<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_269" id="page_269">{269}</a></span> the Willows”<a name="FNanchor_80_80" id="FNanchor_80_80"></a><a href="#Footnote_80_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a> is begun, and the -light-heartedness with which Hosea Biglow leaves the half-catalogue -manner rehearsing the movement of Spring in “Sunthin’ in the Pastoral -Line,” and leaps almost vociferously into the warm, generous air of -June, when “all comes crowdin’ in.” The poem entitled “Al Fresco” is but -a variation on the same theme; when he first published it, save the -opening stanza, in the <i>Anti-Slavery Standard</i>, he gave it the title of -“A Day in June.” And when, compelled to lie indoors, he found a -compensation in Calderon singing to him like a nightingale, it was still -a wistful look he cast on his catbird that joined with the oriole and -the cuckoo to call him out of doors, and he sighed to think that he -could not like them be a pipe for June to play on. “The Nightingale in -the Study” was written when he sought in illness for something that -would seclude him from himself; but the three poems of 1848 were the -outcome of a nature so tingling with vitality that expression was its -necessity, and spontaneity the law of its being. Literature, freedom, -and nature in turn appealed to the young enthusiast; the visions he saw -stirred him, in the quiet of Elmwood, to eager, impetuous delivery; and -his natural voice was a singing one.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_270" id="page_270">{270}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><br /> -<small>SIX YEARS</small><br /><br /> -<small>1845-1851</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span>, in the spring of 1845, the Lowells returned to Cambridge from -Philadelphia, where they had spent the first four months of their -married life, it was to share the family home of Elmwood for the next -six years. Lowell’s father retired in the summer of 1845 from active -charge of the West Parish in Boston, but retained his interest in -various societies which gave him partial occupation, leaving him leisure -for the indulgence of his taste for reading and for the pleasures of -gardening and small farming. His mother, whose malady slowly but -steadily increased, was under watchful care. She was taken to various -health resorts in hopes of recovery, and spent a part of her last years -under more constant treatment at an asylum for the mentally deranged. -Miss Rebecca Lowell had charge of the little household, and now and then -went on journeys with her father or mother or both, leaving the young -couple to themselves. As one child after another came into the circle, -the grandfather found a solace for the sorrow which lay heavily upon -him, and his letters, when he was on one of his journeys, were filled -with affectionate messages for his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_271" id="page_271">{271}</a></span> new daughter and her children, -mingled with careful charges to his son concerning the well-being of the -cattle, small and large, and the proper harvesting of the little crops.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Lowell’s family lived near by in Watertown, and one by one her -sisters married, one of them coming to Cambridge to live. The society of -the college town was open, and it was in these early years that Lowell -formed one of a whist club, which, with but slight variation in -membership, continued its meetings to the end of his life, and the -simple records of which were kept by Lowell. Its most constant members -were Mr. John Holmes, a younger brother of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, -Mr. John Bartlett, who was for a while a bookseller in Cambridge, and -afterward until his retirement a member of the publishing firm of -Little, Brown & Co. of Boston, and best known by his handbook of -“Familiar Quotations” and his elaborate “Concordance to Shakespeare,” -and finally Dr. Estes Howe, who married Mrs. Lowell’s sister.</p> - -<p>Lowell was much given to concealing in his verse or prose little -allusions which might be passed over by readers unaware of what lay -beneath, but would be taken as a whispered aside by his friends. Thus in -a “Preliminary Note to the Second Edition” of “A Fable for Critics,” he -says: “I can walk with the Doctor, get facts from the Don, or draw out -the Lambish quintessence of John, and feel nothing more than a half -comic sorrow, to think that they all<a name="FNanchor_81_81" id="FNanchor_81_81"></a><a href="#Footnote_81_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> will be lying to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_272" id="page_272">{272}</a></span>-morrow tossed -carelessly up on the waste-paper shelves, and forgotten by all but their -half dozen selves.”</p> - -<p>In the summer of 1846 the sickness of little Blanche took the family -suddenly to Stockbridge in the Berkshire Hills, whence Lowell wrote to -Carter: “Stockbridge is without exception the quietest place I was ever -in, and the office of postmaster here one of the most congenial to my -taste and habits of any I ever saw or heard of. The postmaster has no -regular hours whatever. Even if engaged in sorting the mail, he will run -out and lock the door behind him, to play with his grandchildren. I do -not believe that in the cabinet of any postmaster-general there is a -more unique specimen. He is a gray-bearded old gentleman of between -sixty and seventy, wears the loose calico gown so much in vogue among -the country clergy, and feels continually that he is an important limb -of the great body politic. I do not mean that he is vain. There is too -profound a responsibility attached to his office to allow of so light -and unworthy a passion. There is a solemn, half-melancholy grandeur -about him, a foreboding, perchance, of that change of administration -which may lop him from the parent tree,—a Montezuma-like dread of that -mysterious stranger into whose hands his sceptre must pass. In -purchasing a couple of steel pens or a few cigars of him (for he keeps a -small variety store) you feel that the parcel is done up and handed over -the counter by one of the potent hands of government itself.... We have<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_273" id="page_273">{273}</a></span> -found Stockbridge an exceedingly pleasant place and have made many -agreeable acquaintances. Blanche is a favorite throughout the village -and knows everybody.”</p> - -<p>Longfellow, who was near by in Pittsfield at this time, notes in his -Diary, 16 August: “In the afternoon Lowell came with his wife from Lenox -to see us. He looks as hale as a young farmer; she very pale and -fragile. They are driving about the country and go southward to Great -Barrington and the region of the Bash Bish.”</p> - -<p>The illness of Blanche which led her parents to take her into the -country was slight and temporary. The child grew in beauty and winning -grace, and endeared herself to her father in a manner which left its -signs long afterward. Early in March, 1847, however, when she was -vigorous and gave promise of a hearty life, she was seized suddenly with -a malady consequent upon too rapid teething, and after a week’s sickness -died. “In the fourteen months she was with us (for which God be -thanked),” Lowell wrote to Briggs, “she showed no trace of any evil -tendency, and it is wonderful how in so brief a space she could have -twined her little life round so many hearts. Wherever she went everybody -loved her. My poor father loved her so that he almost broke his heart in -endeavoring to console Maria when it was at last decided the dear child -was not to be spared to us.” After Blanche was buried, her father took -her tiny shoes, the only ones she had ever worn, and hung them in his -chamber. There they stayed till his own death.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_274" id="page_274">{274}</a></span> “The Changeling” -preserves in poetry the experience of the father in this first great -sorrow of his life, and “The First Snow-Fall” intimates the consolation -which was shortly to be brought, for in September the second child, -Mabel, was born.</p> - -<p>The literary product of 1847 was inconsiderable. A few poems appeared, -and Lowell even contemplated trying his hand at a tragedy founded on the -Conquest of Mexico,—the first conquest, as one of his friends slyly -remarks,—suggested no doubt by Prescott’s history, which had appeared -four years earlier, and had just been followed by the “Conquest of -Peru.” He made some progress with the tragedy, and even purposed -offering it in competition for the large prize promised by Forrest for a -good acting tragedy, but no line of it appears to have been preserved. -He contributed also two or three articles to the <i>North American -Review</i>, and in the fall of the year he set about the collection of such -poems as he had written since his previous volume appeared. In the midst -of this work he wrote to his friend Carter, then in the little village -of Pepperell, and his letter reflects pleasantly the attitude he always -took toward New England country life, as well as shows the wistfulness -of his regard for his lost child.</p> - -<p>“There are pleasanter ways of looking at a country village like -Pepperell,” he writes to his somewhat discontented correspondent; “there -are good studies both within doors and without, and either picture will -be new to you. Talk to the men about farming, and you will find yourself -in good<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_275" id="page_275">{275}</a></span> society at once. Inquire of the women about the mysteries of -cheese—and butter-making, and you will be more entertained than with -the Georgics. At first, you find yourself in a false relation with them. -You touch at no points and bristle repellingly at all. They flounder in -their conversation and seek shelter in the weather or the price of pork, -because they consider themselves under a painful necessity to entertain -you. They can’t converse because they try—effort being the untimely -grave of all true interchange of natures. They make a well where there -should be a fountain. Get them upon any common ground, and you will find -there is genuine stuff in them. The essence of good society is simply a -community in habits of thought and topics of interest. When we approach -each other naturally, we meet easily and gracefully; if we hurry too -much we are apt to come together with an unpleasant bump.</p> - -<p>“Who knows how much domestic interest was involved in that question the -goodwife asked you about Mr. Praisegod’s servant? Perhaps she has a son, -or a daughter betrothed to a neighbor’s son, who thinks of beginning -life (as many of the farmers’ children in our country towns do) by -entering into service in the city. Perhaps she wished and yet did not -dare to ask of the temptations he would be exposed to. I love our -Yankees with all their sharp angles.</p> - -<p>“Maria is and has been remarkably well ever since the birth of our -little darling, if I may call her so when Blanche still holds the first -place in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_276" id="page_276">{276}</a></span> our hearts. Little Miss Mabel thrives wonderfully. She is, I -think, as good a child as her little sister—though I tremble to trace -any likeness between the two. She certainly has not Blanche’s noble and -thoughtful eyes, which were noticeable even when she was first born. But -some of her ways are very like her sister’s. Those who have seen her say -that she is a very beautiful child.”</p> - -<p>Toward the end of the year the volume of poems pressed hard upon him. “I -should have written to you,” he writes to Briggs, 13 November, 1847, “at -any rate just to say that I loved you still and to ask how you did, had -I not been most preposterously busy with the printers. I had calculated -in a loose way that I had ‘copy’ enough prepared to make as large a -volume as I intended mine should be, but about three weeks ago the -printers overtook me, and since then we have been neck and neck for -something like a hundred pages—thirty page heats. It was only yesterday -that I won the cup. Everybody has a notion that it is of advantage to be -out before Christmas; and though I feel a sort of contempt for a demand -so adventitiously created, and do not wish anybody to buy my book but -those who buy to read, yet it is one of these little points which we -find it convenient to yield in life, and not the less readily because it -will be for our advantage not to be obstinate. I have a foolish kind of -pride in these particulars. I had rather, for example, that you should -have copied into the <i>Mirror</i> a column of abuse than those exaggerated -commendations of my Louisville<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_277" id="page_277">{277}</a></span> friend. I do not know whether it is a -common feeling or not, but I can never get to consider myself as -anything more than a boy. My temperament is so youthful, that whenever I -am addressed (I mean by mere acquaintances) as if my opinion were worth -anything, I can hardly help laughing. I cannot but think to myself with -an inward laugh: ‘My good friend, you would be as mad as a hornet with -me, if you knew that I was only a boy of twelve behind a bearded vizor.’ -This feeling is so strong that I have got into a way of looking on the -Poet Lowell as an altogether different personage from myself, and feel a -little offended when my friends confound the two.”</p> - -<p>The volume of poems to which Lowell refers in this letter came out just -before Christmas, 1847. It bore the words “Second Series” on the -title-page, being coupled in the author’s mind with the Poems issued -four years previous. It is in the main a collection of the poems which -Lowell in the past four years had scattered through papers and -magazines, though he omitted several which had appeared in print, one or -two of which indeed he went back and picked up on issuing his next -collection a score of years later. He did not draw on his Biglow poems, -reserving them for a volume by themselves, and he omitted several that -were in a similar vein. There was perhaps no single poem in the new -series which struck a deeper note than is to be found in one or two of -the poems in the earlier collection, yet the art of the second series is -firmer than that of the first, and the book as a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_278" id="page_278">{278}</a></span> whole is distinctly -more even and more free from the mere sentimentalism which marks the -previous volume. Scattered through it are a few of the more serious of -his anti-slavery poems, as if for a testimony; but he does not retain -the violent, not to say turgid, songs which he had thrown out upon -occasions of public excitement.</p> - -<p>There is one poem among the few contributed directly to the volume, -which is familiar to lovers of Lowell himself rather than of Lowell the -poet, if we may take his own discrimination, and it is most likely that -it was written under conditions referred to in the letter just quoted. -“An Indian-Summer Reverie,” which fills sixteen pages of the little -volume, near its close, bears the marks of rapid writing. It is easy to -believe that Lowell, coming away from the printing-office, where he had -learned that the printers needed at once more copy, paused near the -willows, and in the warm, hazy November afternoon let his mind drift -idly over the scene and blend with it reflections on his own life. The -poet, by virtue of his gift, is always young, and yet when young is the -most retrospective of men. Not yet thirty, Lowell could remember his -youth, and helped by the autumn that was in the air, could see nature -and man and his own full life through a medium which has the mistiness -and the color of the Indian Summer. There are poetic lines and phrases -in the poem, and more than all the veil of the season hangs tremulously -over the whole, so that one is gently stirred by the poetic feeling of -the rambling verses; yet, after all, the most endur<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_279" id="page_279">{279}</a></span>ing impression is of -the young man himself in that still hour of his life, when he was -conscious, not so much of a reform to which he must put his hand, as of -the love of beauty, and of the vague melancholy which mingles with -beauty in the soul of a susceptible poet. The river winding through the -marshes, the distant sound of the ploughman, the near chatter of the -chipmunk, the individual trees, each living its own life, the march of -the seasons flinging lights and shadows over the broad scene, the -pictures of human life associated with his own experience, the hurried -survey of his village years—all these pictures float before his vision; -and then, with an abruptness which is like the choking of the singer’s -voice with tears, there wells up the thought of the little life which -held as in one precious drop the love and faith of his heart. Mr. -Briggs, in a letter written upon receiving the volume, says: “I have -just laid it aside with my eyes full of tears after reading ‘The -Changeling,’ which appears to me the greatest poem in the collection, -and I think that it will be so regarded by and by, a good many years -hence, when I shall be wholly forgotten and you will only be known by -the free thoughts you will leave behind you.” Mr. Briggs had himself -lost a child, and his grief had been commemorated by Lowell; this same -letter announces the birth of a daughter. One’s personal experience -often colors if it does not obscure one’s critical judgment; but in -taking account of Lowell’s life and its expression, we may not overlook -the fact that up to this time certainly he was singu<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_280" id="page_280">{280}</a></span>larly ingenuous in -making poetry, not simply a vehicle for the conveyance of large emotions -generalized from personal experience, but a precipitation of his most -intimate emotions. His love, his tender feelings for his friends, his -generous and ardent hopes for humanity, his passion for freedom and -truth, all lay at the depths of his being; but they rose to the surface -perpetually in his poems and his letters, and he had scarcely learned to -hold them in check by that hard mundane wisdom which comes to most -through the attrition of daily living.</p> - -<p>Thus far Lowell had looked out on life pretty steadily from the -sheltered privacy of a happy home, and he was not immediately to change -his surroundings; but a certain induration was now to be effected which -can scarcely be said to have arrested his spontaneity, but may fairly be -looked upon as leading him to regard himself more as others regarded -him, as no longer “a boy of twelve behind a bearded vizor,” but as grown -up and become a man of the world. For it was not long after this that -the relation into which he had entered with the <i>National Anti-Slavery -Standard</i>, and which had undergone a sort of suspension as we have seen, -became a very close and exacting one.</p> - -<p>The seclusion of his life satisfied Lowell; he was an infrequent visitor -to Boston even, and made but few journeys. Now and then he went to New -York, and, as we have seen, once to Stockbridge. To Canada also he made -one journey; but it is clear from the circumstances attending these -flittings that the Lowells had no money to spend on<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_281" id="page_281">{281}</a></span> luxuries. They -could live simply and without much outlay of cash at Elmwood, but -travelling meant hoarding first, and in those early married years the -young couple was not often out of debt. Even a trip to New York had to -be postponed again and again on this account. Mr. Gay’s drafts in -payment of account for contributions to the <i>Standard</i> were irregular -and always seemed to come just in the nick of time.</p> - -<p>“I thought to see you this week,” Lowell wrote to Gay, 8 June, 1848, -when acknowledging one of these raven-flights,—“but cannot come yet. I -cannot come without any money, and leave my wife with 62-1/2 cents, such -being the budget brought in by my secretary of the treasury this -week.... I am expecting some money daily—I always am—I always have -been, and yet have never been fairly out of debt since I entered -college.” And again, writing to the same, 26 February, 1849, “The truth -is, that I have just been able to keep my head above water; but there is -a hole in my life-preserver, and what wind I can raise from your quarter -comes just in season to make up for leakage and save me from total -submersion. Since the day after I received your remittance for December, -I have literally not had a copper, except a small sum which I borrowed. -It was all spent before I got it. So is the last one, too. As long as I -have money I don’t think anything about it, except to fancy my present -stock inexhaustible and capable of buying up the world.” A few days -later, on receiving the draft which his half-humorous letter<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_282" id="page_282">{282}</a></span> called -for, he wrote in the same strain: “I am not very often down in the -mouth: but sometimes, at the end of the year, when I have done a -tolerable share of work, and have nothing to show for it, I feel as if I -had rather be a spruce clerk on India wharf than a man of letters. -Regularly I look forward to New Year, and think that I shall begin the -next January out of debt, and as regularly I am disappointed.”</p> - -<p>Yet all this time, with his frugal living and his vain effort to be even -with the world, he could not refrain from obeying his generous impulses. -His gift of “A Fable for Critics” to Briggs illustrates this spirit, and -a passage in one of his letters shows the secret giver who is perhaps a -little more lovable in the eyes of the Lord than the cheerful public -one. Mr. Briggs had written to him 16 November, 1849: “On Monday evening -Page and I were at Willis’s house, and in the course of a conversation -about Poe, Willis mentioned that you had written him a very pleasant -letter about Poe, and enclosed something really handsome for Mrs. Clemm. -‘I could not help thinking,’ said Willis, ‘that if Lowell had known what -Poe wrote to me about him just previous to his death, he would hardly -have been so liberal.” “What a contemptible idea of me Willis must -have,” Lowell replied, “to think that anything Poe might say of me would -make any difference in my feeling pity for his poor mother-in-law. I -confess it does not raise my opinion of Willis. I knew before as well as -I know now, that Poe must have been abusing me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_283" id="page_283">{283}</a></span> for he knew that ever -since his conduct toward you about the <i>Broadway Journal</i> I had thought -meanly of him. I think Willis would hardly care to see some letters of -Poe to me in which <i>he</i> is spoken of. My ‘pleasant letter’ to W. was -about ten lines, rather less than more I fancy, and my ‘generous -donation’ was five dollars! I particularly requested of him that it -should be anonymous, which I think a good principle, as it guards us -against giving from any unworthy motive. That Willis should publish it -at the street corners only proves the truth of Swift’s axiom that any -man may gain the reputation of generosity by £20 a year spent -judiciously.”</p> - -<p>When Hawthorne lost his place in the Salem Custom House, Lowell with -other of his friends made active effort to set him on his feet. He wrote -to Mr. Duyckinck, 13 January, 1850: “Perhaps you know that Hawthorne was -last spring turned out of an office which he held in the Salem Custom -House, and which was his sole support. He is now, I learn, very poor, -and some money has just been raised for him by his friends in this -neighborhood. Could not something be also done in New York? I know that -you appreciate him, and that you will be glad to do anything in your -power. I take it for granted that you know personally all those who -would be most likely to give. I write also to Mr. O’Sullivan, who is a -friend of Hawthorne’s, but am ignorant whether he is now in New York. Of -course Hawthorne is entirely ignorant that anything of the kind is going -on, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_284" id="page_284">{284}</a></span> it would be better that ‘a bird in the air’ should seem to have -carried the news to New York, and that if anything be raised, it should -go thence, directly, as a spontaneous gift.”</p> - -<p>The money which Lowell and others collected for Hawthorne was sent in -the most anonymous fashion through Mr. George S. Hillard, and Hawthorne -acknowledged the gift in a letter which moves one by its mingling of -gratitude and humiliation. “I read your letter,” he writes to Hillard, -“in the vestibule of the post office [at Salem]; and it drew—what my -troubles never have—the water to my eyes; so that I was glad of the -sharply cold west wind that blew into them as I came homeward, and gave -them an excuse for being red and bleared.</p> - -<p>“There was much that was very sweet—and something too that was very -bitter—mingled with that same moisture. It is sweet to be remembered -and cared for by one’s friends—some of whom know me for what I am, -while others, perhaps, know me only through a generous faith—sweet to -think that they deem me worth upholding in my poor work through life. -And it is bitter, nevertheless, to need their support. It is something -else besides pride that teaches me that ill-success in life is really -and justly a matter of shame. I am ashamed of it, and I ought to be. The -fault of a failure is attributable—in a great degree at least—to the -man who fails. I should apply this truth in judging of other men; and it -behooves me not to shun its point or edge in taking it home<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_285" id="page_285">{285}</a></span> to my <i>own</i> -heart. Nobody has a right to live in the world, unless he be strong and -able, and applies his ability to good purpose.</p> - -<p>“The money, dear Hillard, will smooth my path for a long time to come. -The only way in which a man can retain his self-respect, while availing -himself of the generosity of his friends, is by making it an incitement -to his utmost exertions, so that he may not need their help again. I -shall look upon it so—nor will shun any drudgery that my hand shall -find to do, if thereby I may win bread.”</p> - -<p>Nearly four years later, when Hawthorne had leapt into fame and -prosperity after the publication of “The Scarlet Letter,” he wrote again -to Hillard from Liverpool: “I herewith send you a draft on Ticknor for -the sum (with interest included) which was so kindly given me by unknown -friends, through you, about four years ago. I have always hoped and -intended to do this, from the first moment when I made up my mind to -accept the money. It would not have been right to speak of this purpose, -before it was in my power to accomplish it; but it has never been out of -my mind for a single day, nor hardly, I think, for a single working -hour. I am most happy that this loan (as I may fairly call it, at this -moment) can now be repaid without the risk on my part of leaving my wife -and children utterly destitute. I should have done it sooner; but I felt -that it would be selfish to purchase the great satisfaction for myself, -at any fresh risk to them. We are not<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_286" id="page_286">{286}</a></span> rich, nor are we ever likely to -be; but the miserable pinch is over.</p> - -<p>“The friends who were so generous to me must not suppose that I have not -felt deeply grateful, nor that my delight at relieving myself from this -pecuniary obligation is of any ungracious kind. I have been grateful all -along, and am more so now than ever. This act of kindness did me an -unspeakable amount of good; for it came when I most needed to be assured -that anybody thought it worth while to keep me from sinking. And it did -me even greater good than this, in making me sensible of the need of -sterner efforts than my former ones, in order to establish a right for -myself to live and be comfortable. For it is my creed (and was so even -at that wretched time) that a man has no claim upon his fellow -creatures, beyond bread and water, and a grave, unless he can win it by -his own strength or skill. But so much the kinder were those unknown -friends whom I thank again with all my heart.”<a name="FNanchor_82_82" id="FNanchor_82_82"></a><a href="#Footnote_82_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a></p> - -<p>Aside from his modest salary from the <i>Standard</i>, Lowell’s income from -his writings was meagre enough. In publishing his volumes of poetry, he -appears to have been largely if not entirely at the expense of -manufacture, and in the imperfectly organized condition of the book -market at that time, he had himself to supervise arrangements for -selling his volume of poems in New York. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_287" id="page_287">{287}</a></span> are one or two hints -that, after his release from contributing to the <i>Standard</i>, he -contemplated some new editorial position, perhaps even meditated a fresh -periodical venture. At any rate, his friend Briggs remonstrated with -him, in a letter written 15 March, 1849: “Don’t, my dear friend, think -of selling yourself to a weekly or monthly periodical of any kind, -except as a contributor <i>deo volente.</i> The drudgery of editorship would -destroy you, and bring you no profit. Make up your mind resolutely to -refuse any offers, let them be never so tempting. In a mere pecuniary -point of view, it would be more profitable for you to sell your writings -where you could procure the best pay for them; they will be worth more -and more as your wants grow.” And in December, 1850, Emerson, who was -enlisting Hawthorne’s interest in a new magazine projected by Mr. George -Bradburn, “that impossible problem of a New England magazine,” as he -calls it, writes: “I told him to go to Lowell, who had been for a year -meditating the like project.”</p> - -<p>It is possible that there was some plan for turning the <i>Massachusetts -Quarterly Review</i> into a brisker and more distinctly literary journal. -At any rate, Lowell, writing to Emerson 19 February, 1850, says: “The -plan seems a little more forward. I have seen Parker, who is as placable -as the raven down of darkness, and not unwilling to shift his Old Man of -the sea to other shoulders. Longfellow also is toward, and talks in a -quite Californian manner of raising funds by voluntary subscription.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_288" id="page_288">{288}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>The <i>Massachusetts Quarterly</i>, which had been started in 1847 as an -organ of more progressive thought than the <i>North American Review</i>, was -under the management of Theodore Parker, and Lowell was evidently a -welcome though not constant contributor, as this letter to the editor -intimates:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Elmwood</span>, July 28, [1848].<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Sir</span>:—Do <i>you</i> know where parsons go to who don’t believe -in original sin? I think that your experience as an editor will -bring you nearer orthodoxy by convincing you of the total depravity -of contributors. I have no doubt that the plague of booksellers was -sent to punish authors for their sins toward editors.</p> - -<p>Your note was so illegible that I was unable to make out that part -of it in which you reproached me for my remissness. I shall choose -rather to treasure it as containing I know not what commendations -of my promptitude and punctuality. I will have it framed and glazed -and exhibit it to editors inquiring my qualifications, as the -enthusiastic testimony of the Rev. Theo. Parker, and fearlessly -defy all detection.</p> - -<p>I assure you that it is not my fault that I did not send the -enclosed<a name="FNanchor_83_83" id="FNanchor_83_83"></a><a href="#Footnote_83_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a> earlier. I have suffered all this summer with a severe -pain in the head, which has entirely crippled me for a great part -of the time. It is what people call a <i>fullness</i> in the head, but -its effect is to produce an entire emptiness.</p> - -<p>As it is, I am reluctant to send the article.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_289" id="page_289">{289}</a></span> I hardly know what -is in it myself, but I am quite conscious that it is disjointed and -wholly incomplete. I found it impossible to concentrate my mind -upon it so as to give it any unity or entireness. Believe the -writing it has worried me more than the not receiving it worried -you.</p> - -<p>I send it as to a man in a strait to whom <i>anything</i> will be -useful. I throw it <i>quasi lignum naufrago.</i> If I had one of the -cedarn columns of the temple, I would cast it overboard to you; but -having only a shapeless log, I give you that, as being as useful to -a drowning man as if it were already made into a Mercury.</p> - -<p>I have, you see, given directions to the printer to copy “The -Hamadryad.” My copy is a borrowed one, and if you own one I should -be obliged to you if you would send it to the printing-office, as -your warning about not smutching, etc., would probably have more -weight with your printers than mine. If you have no copy please let -me know through the P. O. and I will send the one I have, as I have -obtained permission to do.</p> - -<p>I should like to see the proofs, and as I am going to New York on -Monday next to be absent a week, I should like to have them sent to -me there to the care of S. H. Gay, 142 Nassau St., if it should be -necessary to print before I return. If there is too much hurry, -will you be good enough to look at them yourself.</p> - -<p>If the article seem too short for a Review, you are welcome to -insert it among your literary notices, or to return it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_290" id="page_290">{290}</a></span></p> - -<p>I must thank you before I close my note for the pleasure I received -in reading a recent sermon of yours which I saw in the -<i>Chronotype.</i> You have not so much mounted the pulpit as lifted it -up to you.</p> - -<p>Very truly your Eumenides-driven contributor,</p> - -<p class="r"> -J. R. L.<a name="FNanchor_84_84" id="FNanchor_84_84"></a><a href="#Footnote_84_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a><br /> -</p></div> - -<p>The most substantial magazine in his own neighborhood was the <i>North -American Review</i>, and to that, in his early period, Lowell contributed -but half a dozen articles. It is partly characteristic of the manner of -the heavy reviewing of the day, and wholly characteristic of Lowell, -that in each of these cases quite two thirds of the article is taken up -with prolegomena. Before he could settle down to an examination of “The -New Timon,” he must needs analyze at great length the quality of Pope, -who had served as a sort of pattern: it is interesting, by the way, to -note that in the last paragraph of his review, he guesses the book to -have been written by Bulwer. So in reviewing Disraeli’s “Tancred,” he -despatches the book itself somewhat summarily after a dozen pages of -witty reflections on novel-writing. A review of Browning is more -definitely an examination of this poet, with large extracts from -“Luria,” though it has the inevitable long introduction on poetry in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_291" id="page_291">{291}</a></span> -general; but its appreciation and discriminating judgment of Browning at -a time when “Sordello,” “Paracelsus,” and “Bells and Pomegranates” were -the only poems and collection by which to measure him, indicate surely -how direct and at first hand were Lowell’s critical appraisals. “Above -all,” he says, after a glowing rehearsal of the contents of “Bells and -Pomegranates,” “his personages are not mere mouthpieces for the author’s -idiosyncrasies. We take leave of Mr. Browning at the end of ‘Sordello,’ -and except in some shorter lyrics see no more of him. His men and women -<i>are</i> men and women, and not Mr. Browning masquerading in different -colored dominoes:” and in the same article occurs a passage which might -lead one to think Lowell was musing over his own qualities: “Wit makes -other men laugh, and that only once. It may be repeated indefinitely to -new audiences and produce the same result. Humor makes the humorist -himself laugh. He is a part of his humor, and it can never be repeated -without loss.”</p> - -<p>In the more substantial literary criticism of his maturity Lowell -occupied himself mainly with the great names of world literature, but at -this time he was especially intent on his contemporaries in America and -England, and he was keenly alive to manifestations of spirit which gave -evidence of transcending the bounds of local reputation. In a review of -Longfellow’s “Kavanagh” he made the book really only a peg from which to -hang a long disquisition upon nationality in literature, a subject -which, it will be remembered, receives considerable<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_292" id="page_292">{292}</a></span> attention in the -book. Lowell’s own conclusion is that “Nationality is only a less narrow -form of provincialism, a sublimer sort of clownishness and ill manners.”</p> - -<p>It was with the heartiest good-will that he welcomed Thoreau’s “Week on -the Concord and Merrimack Rivers,” just after the publication of that -book. As in his other reviews of this period, he must needs preface his -consideration of the book itself with some general remarks on -travellers, which he liked well enough to preserve in his “Leaves from -my Journal in Italy and Elsewhere,” published in “Fireside Travels;” but -the main part of his article is a generous appreciation of Thoreau’s -faculty of insight into the things of nature. “A graduate of -Cambridge,—the fields and woods, the axe, the hoe, and the rake have -since admitted him <i>ad eundem</i>. Mark how his imaginative sympathy goes -beneath the crust, deeper down than that of Burns, and needs no plough -to turn up the object of its muse.” He makes, however, a clear -distinction between Thoreau the observer and man of reflection and -Thoreau the bookman. “As long as he continues an honest Boswell, his -book is delightful; but sometimes he serves his two rivers as Hazlitt -did Northcote, and makes them run Thoreau or Emerson, or, indeed, -anything but their own transparent element. What, for instance, have -Concord and Merrimack to do with Boodh, themselves professors of an -elder and to them wholly sufficient religion, namely, the willing -subjects of watery laws, to seek their ocean? We have digres<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_293" id="page_293">{293}</a></span>sions on -Boodh, on Anacreon (with translations hardly so good as Cowley), on -Perseus, on Friendship, and we know not what. We come upon them like -snags, jolting us headforemost out of our places as we are rowing -placidly up stream, or drifting down. Mr. Thoreau becomes so absorbed in -these discussions that he seems, as it were, to catch a crab, and -disappears uncomfortably from his seat at the bow-oar. We could forgive -them all, especially that on Books, and that on Friendship (which is -worthy of one who has so long commerced with Nature and with Emerson), -we could welcome them all, were they put by themselves at the end of the -book. But as it is, they are out of proportion and out of place, and mar -our Merrimacking dreadfully. We were bid to a river-party, not to be -preached at. They thrust themselves obtrusively out of the narrative, -like those quarries of red glass which the Bowery dandies (emulous of -Sisyphus) push laboriously before them as breast-pins.” He finds fault -with Thoreau for some of his verse, but regards with admiration his -prose. “The style is compact, and the language has an antique purity -like wine grown colorless with age.” Lowell expressed the same -admiration for Thoreau’s style when he wrote again about him a dozen -years later, after re-reading his books, but his point of view had by -that time changed, and he was more concerned to look into Thoreau’s -philosophy of life.</p> - -<p>The article on Landor, written at this time, was quite exclusively an -examination of the genius of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_294" id="page_294">{294}</a></span> writer for whom he had long had a great -admiration; and inasmuch as he had himself tried the form of -conversation, it is worth while to note the excellent judgment he passes -on Landor’s art. “Of his ‘Imaginary Conversations’ we may generally say -that they would be better defined as dialogues between the imaginations -of the persons introduced than between the persons themselves. There is -a something in all men and women who deserve the much-abused title of -<i>individuals</i>, which we call their character, something finer than the -man or woman, and yet which <i>is</i> the man or woman nevertheless. We feel -it in whatever they say or do, but it is better than their speech or -deed, and can be conceived of apart from these. It is his own -conceptions of the characters of different personages that Landor brings -in as interlocutors. Between Shakespeare’s historical and ideal -personages we perceive no difference in point of reality. They are alike -historical to us. We allow him to substitute his Richard for the Richard -of history, and we suspect that those are few who doubt whether Caliban -ever existed. Whatever Hamlet and Cæsar say we feel to be theirs, though -we know it to be Shakespeare’s. Whatever Landor puts into the mouth of -Pericles and Michael Angelo and Tell, we know to be his, though we can -conceive that it might have been theirs. Don Quixote would never have -attacked any puppets of his. The hand which jerked the wires, and the -mouth which uttered the speeches would have been too clearly visible.” -Here again it is interesting to take up<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_295" id="page_295">{295}</a></span> the reminiscences of Landor and -of his own early acquaintance with his writings, which he printed in -1888, when introducing a group of Landor’s letters; for the comparison -shows that though his enthusiasm for this writer had somewhat abated -with years, the general tone of his judgment was the same.</p> - -<p>The article on Landor was a deferred one. It was to have been written -for the June number of the <i>Massachusetts Quarterly Review</i>, but did not -appear till December. His child’s sickness and work on the “Biglow -Papers” drove other things out of his head. Indeed, as he wrote rapidly -when he was moved to write at all, so he was afflicted with obstinate -inertia when ideas did not come spontaneously. “I am again a -delinquent,” he wrote to Gay, 25 November, 1848,—“and this time I am -ashamed to say, out of pure laziness and having nothing to write about. -But my next article I intend to write on Tuesday, so that you will be -sure of it in time. Do forgive me this once more, and forgive also (if -you can) the stupidity of my contribution. I feel like a squeezed turnip -on which the experiment of extracting blood has been tried. I am -haunted, like Barnaby Rudge’s father, with the sound of a <i>Bell</i>, not -having sent anything yet to that horrible annual.<a name="FNanchor_85_85" id="FNanchor_85_85"></a><a href="#Footnote_85_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a> Upon my word I am -almost crazy with it. I have not an idea in my head, and believe firmly -that I never shall have one again. And I obtained a reprieve ending a -week ago last Friday!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_296" id="page_296">{296}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>But if he groaned thus over writing for publication, he was lavish of -criticism and what might be called material for literature, when writing -to his friends. The letters which Mr. Norton prints, dated in this -period, abound in felicitous comment on men and incidents, and even a -postscript will sometimes ramble on into the dimensions almost of a -separate letter. After indulging in a long epistle to Mr. Briggs, dated -12 May, 1848, he suddenly remembers that he means to send some poems of -his wife’s for a collection which Griswold was making of the writings of -the female poets of America; and after some lively comments on her -contemporaries, he takes note of articles recently written by Briggs, -and falls into a strain which he has disclosed elsewhere in somewhat -similar terms: “You are wrong and N. P. W. is right (as I think) in the -main, in what he says about American Society. There is as striking a -want of external as of internal culture among our men. We ought to have -produced the finest race of <i>gentlemen</i> in the world. But Europeans have -laughed us into a nation of snobs. We are ashamed of our institutions. -Our literature aims to convince Europe that America is as conservative -and respectable as herself. I have often remarked that educated -Americans have the least dignified bearing of any cultivated people. -They all stoop in the shoulders, intellectually as well as physically. A -nation of freemen, we alone of all others have the gait of slaves. The -great power of the English aristocracy lies in their polish. That -impresses the great middle class, who have a sort of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_297" id="page_297">{297}</a></span> dim conception of -its value. A man gains in <i>power</i> as he gains in ease. It is a great -advantage to him to be cultivated in all parts of his nature. Among -scholars, R. W. E. has as fine a manner, as much poise, as I ever saw. -Yet I have seen him quite dethroned by a pure man of the world. His face -degenerated into a puzzled state. I go so far as to believe that all -great men have felt the importance of the outward and visible impression -they should produce. Socrates was as wise as Plato, indeed he was -Plato’s master, but Plato dressed better, and has the greater name. -Pericles was the first gentleman of Greece,—not the George IV. though, -exactly. Remember Cæsar’s laurel-wig.</p> - -<p>“I might multiply instances, but I wish to have room to say how much I -have been pleased with Thackeray’s ‘Vanity Fair.’ He has not Dickens’s -talents as a caricaturist, but he draws with more truth. Dickens can -take a character to pieces and make us laugh immoderately at the comic -parts of it—or he takes only the comic part, as boys take the honey-bag -of the bee, destroying the whole insect to get at it. But Thackeray can -put a character together. He has more constructive power. D. is a -satirizer, T. a satirist. I don’t think D. ever made anything equal to -Becky Sharp. Rawdon Crawley, too, is admirable; so in truth are all the -characters in their way, except Amelia, who is nothing in particular.</p> - -<p>“I liked ‘Wuthering Heights,’ too, as you did, though not so much. There -is great power in it, but it is like looking at nature through a crooked -pane<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_298" id="page_298">{298}</a></span> of glass. Some English journalist has nicknamed the author -Salvator Rosa, and our journalists of course all repeat it. But it is -nonsense. For it is not wildness and rudeness that the author is -remarkable for, but delicacy. A character may be distorted without being -wild or rude. Unnatural causes may crook a violet as well as an oak. -Rochester is a truly refined character, and his roughness and coarseness -are only the shields (scabs, as it were) over his finer nature. My sheet -ends our conversation.”</p> - -<p>There is a picture of the Lowells at home at this time, drawn by Miss -Fredrika Bremer. Lowell had reviewed her writings in their English -dress—it was his first contribution to the <i>North American</i>,—and on -her coming to America a meeting occurred, which resulted in a friendly -visit paid by Miss Bremer to Elmwood. The form in which she recorded her -impressions of travel was in letters home, afterward gathered into a -book. It was on 15 December, 1849, that she wrote:—</p> - -<p>“The whole family assembles every day for morning and evening prayer -around the venerable old man; and he it is who blesses every meal. His -prayers, which are always extempore, are full of the true and inward -life, and I felt them as a pleasant, refreshing dew upon my head, and -seldom arose from my knees with dry eyes. With him live his youngest -son, the poet, and his wife; such a handsome and happy young couple as -one can hardly imagine. He is full of life and youthful ardor, she as -gentle, as delicate, and as fair as a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_299" id="page_299">{299}</a></span> lily, and one of the most lovable -women that I have seen in this country, because her beauty is full of -soul and grace, as is everything which she does or says. This young -couple belong to the class of those of whom one can be quite sure; one -could not for an hour, nay, not for half an hour, be doubtful about -them. She, like him, has a poetical tendency, and has also written -anonymously some poems, remarkable for their deep and tender feeling, -especially maternal, but her mind has more philosophical depth than his. -Singularly enough, I did not discern in him that deeply earnest spirit -which charmed me in many of his poems. He seems to me occasionally to be -brilliant, witty, gay, especially in the evening, when he has what he -calls his ‘evening fever,’ and his talk is then like an incessant play -of fireworks. I find him very agreeable and amiable; he seems to have -many friends, mostly young men.... There is a trace of beauty and taste -in everything she [Mrs. L.] touches, whether of mind or body; and above -all she beautifies life.... Pity it is that this much-loved young wife -seems to have delicate lungs. Her low, weak voice tells of this. [Madame -Lowell was plainly not at home.] Maria reads her husband’s poetry -charmingly well.”<a name="FNanchor_86_86" id="FNanchor_86_86"></a><a href="#Footnote_86_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a></p> - -<p>Near the close of 1849 Lowell reissued in two volumes, under the imprint -of W. D. Ticknor & Co., the two series which had appeared in 1843<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_300" id="page_300">{300}</a></span> and -1847, and thus registered himself, as it were, among the regular -vine-growers on the slopes of Parnassus. Moreover, with his former -products thus formally garnered, he began to please himself with the -prospect of some more thoroughgoing piece of poetical composition. He -was practically clear of his regular engagement with the <i>Standard</i>, and -his “Biglow Papers” had given him the opportunity to free his mind in an -exhilarating fashion on the supreme question of the hour. There was -something of a rebound from this in “The Vision of Sir Launfal,” but the -free use of the Yankee vernacular with the immediate popularity which it -secured must have set him thinking of the possibility of using this form -in some freer and more genuinely poetic fashion. The little pastoral, -“The Courtin’,” published in a fragmentary form, was an experiment in -this direction at once highly successful, and accordingly we find him -writing to Mr. Briggs on the eve of the publication of his two volumes -of Poems: “I think you will find my poems improved in the new edition. I -have not altered much, but I have left out the poorest and put others in -their places. My next volume, I think, will show an advance. It is to be -called ‘The Nooning.’ Now guess what it will be. The name suggests -pleasant thoughts, does it not? But I shall not tell you anything about -it yet, and you must not mention it.” And a few weeks later, with the -project still high in his mind, he wrote to the same correspondent: -“Maria invented the title for me, and is it not a pleasant<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_301" id="page_301">{301}</a></span> one? I am -going to bring together a party of half a dozen old friends at Elmwood. -They go down to the river and bathe, and then one proposes that they -shall go up into a great willow-tree (which stands at the end of the -causey near our house, and has seats in it) to take their nooning. There -they agree that each shall tell a story or recite a poem of some sort. -In the tree they find a countryman already resting himself, who enters -into the plan and tells a humorous tale, with touches of Yankee -character and habits in it. <i>I</i> am to read my poem of the ‘Voyage of -Leif’ to Vinland, in which I mean to bring my hero straight into Boston -Bay, as befits a Bay-state poet. Two of my poems are already -written—one ‘The Fountain of Youth’ (no connection with any other -firm), and the other an ‘Address to the Muse’ by the Transcendentalist -of the party. I guess I am safe in saying that the first of these two is -the best thing I have done yet. But you shall judge when you see it. But -‘Leif’s Voyage’ is to be far better.” The scheme thus formed intended -clearly a group of poems lightly tied together: indeed the plan, always -a favorite one, was carried out on very nearly the same lines by Mr. -Longfellow in his “Tales of a Wayside Inn” a dozen years later, and it -is not impossible that Lowell, who had been interrupted in his plan, was -still more reluctant to complete it, when it would have so much the air -of being a copy of his neighbor’s design. At any rate, the <i>disjecta -membra</i> of the poem found publication in a straggling fashion. Writing -to Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_302" id="page_302">{302}</a></span> J. B. Thayer, in reply to an inquiry about the poem, years -after, Lowell says: “<span class="lftspc">‘</span>The June Idyl’ [renamed ‘Under the Willows’] -(written in ’51 or ’52) is a part of what I had written as the induction -to it. The description of spring in one of the ‘Biglow Papers’ is -another fragment of the same, tagged with rhyme for the nonce. So is a -passage in ‘Mason and Slidell,’ beginning ‘Oh strange new world.’ The -‘Voyage to Vinland,’ the ‘Pictures from Appledore,’ and ‘Fitz-Adam’s -Story’ were written for the ‘Nooning’ as originally planned. So, you -see, I had made some progress. Perhaps it will come by and by—not in -the shape I meant at first, for something broke my life in two, and I -cannot piece it together again. Besides, the Muse asks <i>all</i> of a man, -and for many years I have been unable to give myself up as I would.” To -this list should be added “Fragments of an Unfinished Poem,” which was -printed in the author’s final Riverside edition, when he had abandoned -all thought of completing the “Nooning.”</p> - -<p>That Lowell was conscious of his vocation by this time, and that with -the publication of his collected poems he was entering upon a new, -resolute course of poetic action, is clear from a few pregnant sentences -in a letter to Briggs, dated 23 January, 1850: My poems hitherto have -been a true record of my life, and I mean that they shall continue to -be.... I begin to feel that I must enter on a new year of my -apprenticeship. My poems have thus far had a regular and natural -sequence. First, Love and the mere happiness of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_303" id="page_303">{303}</a></span> existence beginning to -be conscious of itself, then Freedom—both being the sides which Beauty -presented to me—and now I am going to try more <i>wholly</i> after Beauty -herself. Next, if I live, I shall present Life as I have seen it. In the -‘Nooning’ I shall have not even a glance towards Reform. If the poems I -have already written are good for anything they are perennial, and it is -tedious as well as foolish to repeat one’s self. I have preached sermons -enow, and now I am going to come down out of the pulpit and <i>go about -among my parish</i>. I shall turn my barrel over and read my old -discourses; it will be time to write new ones when my hearers have -sucked all the meaning out of those old ones. Certainly I shall not -grind for any Philistines, whether Reformers or Conservatives. I find -that Reform cannot take up the whole of me, and I am quite sure that -eyes were given us to look about us with sometimes, and not to be always -looking forward. If some of my good red-hot friends were to see this -they would call me a backslider, but there are other directions in which -one may get away from people besides the rearward one.... I am not -certain that my next appearance will not be in a pamphlet on the -Hungarian question in answer to the <i>North American Review</i>. But I shall -not write anything if I can help it. I am tired of controversy, and, -though I have cut out the oars with which to row up my friend Bowen, yet -I have enough to do, and, besides, am not so well as usual, being -troubled in my head as I was summer before<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_304" id="page_304">{304}</a></span> last. I should like to play -for a year, and after I have written and printed the ‘Nooning’ I mean to -<i>take</i> a nooning and lie under the trees looking at the skies.”</p> - -<p>The Hungarian movement interested both Lowell and his sister, Mrs. -Putnam, deeply. Lowell had printed in the <i>Standard</i> his verses to -Kossuth, and Mrs. Putnam had written vigorously in the <i>Christian -Examiner</i>. Robert Carter also printed a series of papers on the subject -in the <i>Boston Atlas</i>, which were reprinted in a pamphlet. Lowell did -not write the pamphlet he meditated, but a year later he wrote seven -columns in the <i>Boston Daily Advertiser</i>, in defence of his sister -against Professor Bowen’s attack. “It was the severest job I ever -undertook,” he wrote Gay. “I believe I was longer at work in actual -hours than in writing all Hosea Biglow and the ‘Fable for Critics.’<span class="lftspc">”</span> He -had displayed his interest previously by a stirring appeal for funds in -aid of the Hungarian exiles.<a name="FNanchor_87_87" id="FNanchor_87_87"></a><a href="#Footnote_87_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a></p> - -<p>And now came three events to the little household at Elmwood that -wrought a change in the life of Lowell and his wife. The first was the -death of their third child, Rose, 2 February, 1850, after a half-year’s -life only. The loss brought vividly to remembrance the experience which -had entered so deeply into their lives when the first-born, Blanche, was -taken away. “For Rose,” Lowell writes to Gay, “I would have no funeral; -my father only made a prayer, and then I walked up alone to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_305" id="page_305">{305}</a></span> Mount -Auburn and saw her body laid by her sister’s. She was a very lovely -child—we think the loveliest of our three. She was more like Blanche -than Mabel, and her disease was the same. Her illness lasted a week, but -I never had any hope, so that she died to me the first day the doctor -came. She was very beautiful—fair, with large dark gray eyes and fine -features. Her smile was especially charming, and she was full of smiles -till her sickness began. Dear little child! she had never spoken, only -smiled.”</p> - -<p>Again death came that way, and on 30 March, 1850, Lowell’s mother died. -The cloud which had for years hung over her had deepened, and her death -was looked upon as a release, for whether at home or in seclusion she -was alike separated from her family. As Lowell wrote:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“We can touch thee, still we are no nearer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gather round thee, still thou art alone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wide chasm of reason is between us;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou confutest kindness with a moan;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We can speak to thee, and thou canst answer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like two prisoners through a wall of stone.”<a name="FNanchor_88_88" id="FNanchor_88_88"></a><a href="#Footnote_88_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>The third event was the birth of the fourth child and only son, Walter. -Gay had lately lost a boy, and Lowell’s announcement to him of this -birth was tempered by the fact. “I should have written you a note the -other day,” he writes, 3 January, 1851, “to let you know that we have a -son, only I could not somehow make up my mind to it. It pained me to -think of the associations which such<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_306" id="page_306">{306}</a></span> news would revive in you. Yet I -had rather you should hear it from me than from any one else.... The boy -is a nice little fellow, and said (by his mother) to look like me. He -was born on the 22d December, and I am doubting whether to name him -Pilgrim Father or no. I have offered Maria her choice between that name -and Larkin, which last I think would go uncommonly well with Lowell. She -has not yet made up her mind.</p> - -<p>“But now for the tragic part of it. Just after we had got him cleverly -born on the 22d, there springs me up an Antiquary (like a Jack in a box) -and asserts that the Pilgrims landed on the 21st, that eleven days were -added instead of ten in allowing for O. S., and that there is no use in -disputing about it. But I appeal to any sensible person (I have no -reference to antiquaries) whether, as applied to Larkin, this decision -be not of the nature of an <i>ex post facto</i> law, by which he, the said -Larkin, ought not of right to be concluded. What was he to know of it in -his retirement, with no access to reading-rooms or newspapers? -Inheriting from his father a taste for anniversaries, no doubt he laid -his plans with deliberation, and is he now to give up his birthright for -a mess of antiquarian pottage? Had proper notice been given, he would -surely have bestirred himself to have arrived a day earlier. On the -whole I shall advise Larkin to contest the point. For my part, I shall -stick to the 22d, though it upset the whole Gregorian calendar, which to -me, indeed, smacks a little too strongly of the Scarlet Woman. Would</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 345px;"> -<a name="MRS" id="MRS"></a> -<a href="images/i_306fp_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_306fp_sml.jpg" width="345" height="500" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p class="c"><i>Mrs. Charles Lowell</i></p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_307" id="page_307">{307}</a></span></p> - -<p class="nind">not the Pilgrim Fathers have sworn to the 22d, if they had known that -ever a Pope of Rome would go for the 21st? Surely the Babe Unborn should -not suffer for the want of accurate astronomical knowledge in them of -old time. That other mythological character, the Oldest Inhabitant, -should rather be held responsible as approaching nearer to a -contemporaneousness with the guilty. However, till this matter is -settled, I shall keep it to myself whether the 21st or the 22d were the -day of his kindly nativity.”<a name="FNanchor_89_89" id="FNanchor_89_89"></a><a href="#Footnote_89_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a></p> - -<p>Lowell had been longing for a holiday; Mrs. Lowell’s health, never -robust, gave him now new cause of solicitude; the death of his mother -severed one special cord that would tie him to his home, and thus, in -the spring of 1851, it was decided to carry out a design formed more -than once before, and spend a year at least in Europe. The Lowells tried -to persuade the Gays to accompany them, but without success. “We are -going,” Lowell wrote to Gay, “in a fine ship which will sail from Boston -on the 1st July. She was built for a packet, has fine accommodations, -and will land us at Genoa—a very fit spot for us New-Worlders to land -at and make our first discovery of the Old.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">À Castilla y à Leon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(To Yankees also be it known)<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_308" id="page_308">{308}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nuevo Mundo dió Colon:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so we Western men owe a<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kind of debt to Genoa.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">Also people can live like princes (only more respectably) in Italy on -fifteen hundred a year. We are going to travel on our own land. That is, -we shall spend at the rate of about ten acres a year, selling our -birthrights as we go along for messes of European pottage. Well, Raphael -and the rest of them are worth it. My plan is to sit down in Florence -(where, at least, the coral and bells and the gutta-percha dogs will be -cheaper) till I have cut my eye (talian) teeth. <i>Tuscany</i> must be a good -place for that. Then I shall be able to travel about without being too -monstrously cheated.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_309" id="page_309">{309}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><br /> -<small>FIFTEEN MONTHS IN EUROPE</small><br /><br /> -<small>1851-1852</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. and Mrs. Lowell</span>, their two children, a nurse, and a goat sailed from -Boston, Saturday, 12 July, 1851, in the barque Sultana, Watson, master, -which went to the Mediterranean and dropped the little party at Malta. -“We had a very good run from land to land,” Lowell wrote his father a -few days before reaching Malta, “making the light at Cape St. Vincent on -the night of the seventeenth day out. I stayed upon deck until we could -see the light,—the cape we did not see at all, nor any land till the -next morning. Then we saw the coast of Spain very dim and blue,—only -the outline of a mountain and some high land here and there. The day -before we made land we had a tolerably good specimen of a gale of wind, -enough at any rate to get up so much sea that we were in danger of -having our lee quarter boat washed away, the keel of which hangs above -the level of the poop deck. As it was we lost the covering of one of our -port-holes, which was knocked out by the water which was swashing about -on the lower deck.</p> - -<p>“I was the only one of the party at table that day, and there was an -amount of vivacity among<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_310" id="page_310">{310}</a></span> the dishes such as I never saw before. I took -my soup by the process of absorption, the whole of it having suddenly -leaped out of my plate into my lap. The table was literally at an angle -of 45° all the time, with occasional eccentricities of the horizontal -and the perpendicular, every change of level (or dip rather) being -accomplished with a sudden jerk, which gave us a fine opportunity for -studying the force of projectiles. Imagine the Captain, the First Mate, -and myself at every one of these sudden hiccoughs (as it were) of the -vessel, each endeavoring to think that he has six hands and finding too -late that he has only two, during which interval between doubt and -certainty, I have seen the contents of three dishes, A B C, change -places, A taking the empty space left by B, B in like manner ejecting C, -and C very naturally, having nowhere else to go, is thrown loose upon -society and leads a nomadic life, first upon the tablecloth, then upon -the seat, then upon the floor, every new position being a degradation, -until at last it finds precarious lodging in one of the lee staterooms. -You find your legs in a permanent condition of drunkenness, and that -without any of the previous exhilaration. The surface of the country is -such as I never saw described in any geographical work; the only thing -at all approaching it which I have met with was the state of affairs -during the great earthquake at Lisbon. You have just completed your -arrangements for descending an inclined plane, when you find yourself -climbing an almost perpendicular precipice, the surface of which being,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_311" id="page_311">{311}</a></span> -by a curious freak of nature, of painted floor-cloth, renders your -foothold quite precarious. It is like nothing but a nightmare.</p> - -<p>“Mabel was very sick, and her only comfort was to lie in my berth and -take ‘strange food’ (which she immediately returned again) through a -spoon which opens in a very mysterious and interesting manner out of the -handle of a knife which John Holmes gave me the day we sailed.<a name="FNanchor_90_90" id="FNanchor_90_90"></a><a href="#Footnote_90_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a> -However, she was up again the next day, and has continued most devoted -in her attendance at table, not to speak of little supernumerary lunches -of crackers and toast which she contrives to extract from the compassion -of the steward or cook. The galley is a favorite place of resort for -her, to which she retires as one would to a summer-house, and where, -inhaling the fumes from a cooking-stove of a very warm temperament, she -converses with the cook (as well as I can learn) on cosmography, and -picks up little separate bits of geography like disjointed fragments of -several different dissected maps. With what extraordinary and thrilling -narratives she repays him I can only guess, but I heard her this morning -assuring Mary that she had seen two rats, one red and the other blue, -running about the cabin. Indeed, her theories on the subject of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_312" id="page_312">{312}</a></span> natural -history correspond with that era of the science when Goldsmith wrote his -‘Animated Nature.’ She cultivates her vocal powers by singing ‘Jeannette -and Jeannot’ with extraordinary vigor, and with a total irrecognition of -the original air, which may arise from some hereditary contempt of the -French. She assists regularly at ‘<span class="lftspc">’</span>bouting ship,’ as she calls it, -standing at the wheel with admirable gravity. The Captain always takes -the wheel and issues the orders when the ship is put about, and as this -ceremony has taken place pretty regularly every few hours for the last -eight days, Mabel has acquired all the requisite phrases. At intervals -during the day, a shrill voice may be heard crying out, “Bout ship!’ -‘Mainsail ha-u-l!’ ‘Tacks and sheets!’ ‘Let go and ha-u-ll,’ the whole -prefixed by an exceedingly emphatic ‘Ha-a-a-rd a lee!!’ There is no part -of the vessel except the hold and the rigging which she has not -repeatedly inspected. With all the sailors she is on intimate terms, and -employs them at odd hours in the manufacture of various articles of -furniture.... Nannie has been a constant source of interest and -amusement to Mabel, who climbs up to visit her every day fifty times at -least, and gives her little handfuls of hay and oats which Nannie seems -to eat with a particular relish.”</p> - -<p>The humorous account of the chief mate which occurs in the section “In -the Mediterranean,” in “Leaves from my Journal,” is taken from a full -and lively letter written by Lowell a few days later on shipboard to his -brother-in-law, Dr. Estes Howe.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_313" id="page_313">{313}</a></span> By that time they were off Tunis. -“Perhaps the finest thing we have seen,” he writes to Dr. Howe, “was the -first view of the African coast, which was Cape Espartel in Morocco. -There were five mountains in the background, the highest being as tall -as the Catskills, but the outlines much sharper and grander. They were -heaped together as we saw the Adirondacks from Burlington. We were a -whole day and half the night in beating through the Straits of -Gibraltar, and had very fine views of the shores on both sides. The -little Spanish town of Tarifa had a great charm for me, lying under a -mountain opposite the Moorish coast, with its now useless walls all -around it. The fires of the charcoal burners on the mountains were -exceedingly picturesque, especially at night, when they gave to some -dozen peaks on both sides the aspect of volcanoes. Apes Hill, opposite -the rock of Gibraltar, is higher and more peculiar in its forms than the -rock itself. In some views it is almost a perfect cone, and again, some -of the lower peaks, when you can catch their individual outlines, are -pyramidal. After getting through the Straits, we kept along the Spanish -coast, with very light winds and a new moon, as far as Cape de Gat. We -were four days in making these 150 miles (we ran 280 miles in one day on -the Atlantic). All along there were noble mountains, with here and there -a little white town sprinkled along their bases on the edge of the water -like the grains of rice which the girl dropped in the fairy tale. -Sometimes you see larger buildings on the slope of the mountain, which -seem to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_314" id="page_314">{314}</a></span> be convents. All are white except the watch-towers, which you -see now and then on points, and these are commonly of a soft brown, the -color of the stone. The hues of the mountains at sunset and just after -were exquisite. The nearer ones were of a deep purple, and I now -understand what was meant by the Mediterranean atmosphere....”</p> - -<p>The travellers made a brief halt at Malta, whence they took steamer to -Naples, and from there went by rail to Florence. There they stayed, -living in the Via Maggio, from the 26th of August to the 30th of -October. Neither in his letters nor in the sketches which he afterward -published under the title of “Leaves from my Journal in Italy and -Elsewhere” can one find more than a slight record of Lowell’s sojourn in -a city which was especially endeared to him by that study of Dante which -had been his real introduction to the great world. “I liked my -Florentine better than my Roman walks,” he said; “apart from any -difference in the men, I had a far deeper emotion when I stood on the -<i>Sasso di Dante</i>, than at Horace’s Sabine farm, or by the tomb of -Virgil;”<a name="FNanchor_91_91" id="FNanchor_91_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a> for he found it harder “to bridge over the gulf of Paganism -than of centuries,” and the marked individuality of mediæval Italian -towns attracted him all the more for their being modern and Christian. -In Florence there was an added pleasure in the companionship of Mr. and -Mrs. Frank Shaw, and in the society of William Page.</p> - -<p>In a letter to Mr. John Holmes, written from<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_315" id="page_315">{315}</a></span> Rome half a year later, -Lowell writes: “Once when I was in Florence, Page and Shaw and I took a -walk out of the city to see a famous <i>Cenacolo</i> of Andrea del Sarto in -the refectory of a suppressed convent, about a mile and a half outside -the Porta Santa Croce. We took a roundabout course among the hills, -going first to Galileo’s tower, and then to that of the old Church of -San Miniato which Michelangelo defended. Thence we descended steeply -toward the Arno, crossed it by a ferry-boat, and then found ourselves -opposite a <i>trattoria</i>. It was a warm October day, and we unanimously -turned in at the open door. There were three rooms, one upstairs, where -one might dine ‘more obscurely and courageously’ the kitchen, and the -room in which we were. As I sat upon the corner of the bench, I looked -out through some grape-trailers which hung waving over the door, and saw -first the Arno, then, beyond it a hill on which stood a villa with a -garden laid out in squares with huge walls of box and a clump of tall -black cypresses in the middle, then, to the right of this, the ruined -tower of San Miniato, and beyond it that from which Milton had doubtless -watched the moon rising ‘o’er the top of Fesole.’ This was my landscape. -Behind me was the kitchen. The cook in his white linen cap was stirring -alternately a huge cauldron of soup and a pan of sausages, which -exploded into sudden flame now and then, as if by spontaneous -combustion. A woman wound up at short intervals a jack which turned -three or four chickens before<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_316" id="page_316">{316}</a></span> the fire, and attended a kind of lake of -hot fat in which countless tiny fishes darted, squirmed, and turned -topsy-turvy in a way so much more active and with an expression of so -much more enjoyment than is wont to characterize living fish, that you -would have said they had now for the first time found their element, and -were created to revel in boiling oil. The wine sold here was the produce -of the vineyard which you could see behind and on each side of the -little <i>trattoria</i>. We had a large loaf of bread, and something like a -quart and a half of pure cool wine for nine of our cents. During the -whole time I was in Florence, though I never saw any one drink water, I -also never saw a single drunken man, except some Austrian soldiers, and -only four of these—two of them officers. In Rome, also, drunkenness is -exceedingly rare, but less so, I think, than in Florence. Here you see -everywhere the sign, <i>Spaccio d’ Acqua Vitæ</i>. In Florence I never -remember to have seen spirits advertised for sale, except by those who -dealt in the wants of the <i>Forestieri</i>.”</p> - -<p>Just before leaving the city for Rome, Lowell was filled with -consternation at a letter received from home, telling him that his -father had been stricken with paralysis. His first impulse was to take -his family to Rome and then return at once to America, but a little -reflection showed him how useless this would be. “I should never have -left home,” he wrote his father from Pisa, where they had halted on -their way to Leghorn, “if I had not thought that you wished it, or -rather wished<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_317" id="page_317">{317}</a></span> that we should have been abroad and got back. I hope to -find a letter awaiting us at Rome. But at any rate we shall come home as -soon as we can. I hardly know what I am writing, for I have just got -word from Mr. Black at Leghorn, saying that our places are engaged on -board the steamer for Civita Vecchia, and that we must be there as soon -as possible in the morning. I am going on in the early train, leaving -Maria to come at one o’clock with a servant from the hotel. It is now -between nine and ten, and the rain still falls heavily. I fear a bad day -to-morrow, and what with that and thinking about you and home, my mind -is confused. I find nothing abroad which, after being seen, would tempt -me away from Elmwood again. I enjoy the Art here, but I shall equally -enjoy it there in the retrospect. I wish some of the buildings were on -the other side of the water, but I suppose we should be more contented -not to see them if they were.”</p> - -<p>The voyage by steamer to Civita Vecchia was a very rough one, occupying -five days instead of the eleven hours in which it sometimes was made. A -letter from Dr. Howe was received a few days after the Lowells reached -Rome, which gave more exact account of Dr. Lowell’s illness and left -little hope of anything like permanent restoration. “Had it been -possible,” Lowell replied to his brother-in-law, “I should have come -home at once. But I could neither leave Maria here, nor safely expose -her to the inclemencies of a winter passage across the Atlantic. There -is nothing for it, but to hope and pray. But the thought that I have no -right<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_318" id="page_318">{318}</a></span> to be here casts a deeper shadow over everything in the dreary -city of ruin and of an activity that is more sad than ruin itself. The -dear Elmwood that has always looked so sunny in my memory comes now -between me and the sun, and the long shadow of its eclipse follows and -falls upon me everywhere. It is a wonderful satisfaction to me now to -feel that dear Father and I have been so much at one and have been -sources of so much happiness to each other for so many years.”</p> - -<p>The entrance into Rome is thus described in a letter to Miss Maria -Fay:—</p> - -<p>“It has been raining fast, but as we approach Rome, winding up and down -among the hills and hollows of the Campagna between high stone walls, -the clouds break and the moon shines out with supreme clearness. The -tall reeds which lean over the road here and there glisten like steel, -wet as they still are with the rain. The orange-trees have all silver -leaves, and even the dark laurels and cypresses glitter. It is like an -enchanted garden of the Arabian Nights. Presently we overtake other -lumbering diligences (we are <i>posting</i> and have done the thirty-five -miles from Civita Vecchia in ten hours), and rattling through the gate -are stopped by cocked-hatted officials, who demand passports. Opposite -are the high walls of the Inquisition. We are in Rome. One ought to have -a sensation, and one has. It is that of chill. One climbs stiffly down -from the coupé, and stamps about with short-skirted and long-booted -postilions whose huge spurs are clanking in every direction.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_319" id="page_319">{319}</a></span> Very soon -we, being armed with a <i>lascia passare</i>,—there are three coach loads of -us,—drive off, leaving four other loads behind still wrangling and -jangling with the cocked hats. As we rattle away, the light from the -window of the <i>uffizio di polizia</i> gleams upon the musket of a blue -overcoated French soldier marching to and fro on guard. Five minutes -more rattle and the Dome glistens silverly in the moonlight, and the -Titanic colonnade marches solemnly by us in ranks without end. Then a -glimpse of feathery fountains, a turn to the right, a strip of gloomy -street, a sudden turn to the left, and we are on the bridge of St. -Angelo. Bernini’s angels polk gayly on their pedestals with the emblems -of the Passion in their arms, and by wringing your neck you may see -behind you on the left the huge castle refusing to be comforted by the -moonlight, with its triumphant archangel just alighting on its summit. -Another sharp turn to the left, and you are in a black slit of street -again, which at last, after half a mile of unsavoriness, becomes the -Corso, the main street of modern Rome. And everything thus far is -palpably modern, especially the Hotel d’Angleterre, at which we -presently alight. Next day we remove to lodgings already engaged for us -by F. Boott, near the Pincio, in the highest part of the city. Here we -manage to be comfortable through a month of never-ceasing rain. Then it -clears, and we have a month of cloudless sunshine, with roses blooming -in the gardens and daisies in the fields. To-day is the first rainy day, -and I devote it to you.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_320" id="page_320">{320}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>The Lowells had their quarters at Capo le Case, No. 68, on the third -<i>piano</i>, and were surrounded by a few English and American friends. Mr. -and Mrs. Story were not in Rome when they first arrived, but joined them -in about a fortnight, when the rains had ceased at last and so permitted -walks in the Campagna. The first part of their stay had been dreary -enough, and drew from Lowell the whimsical remark: “Sometimes as I look -from the Pincian, I think that the best thing about [modern Rome] is -that the hills look like Brighton.” And Mrs. Lowell draws a humorous -picture of her husband, and their half homesick feelings, when she -writes: “Through Mr. Black we have the English journals and papers, and -it really gives me a little home feeling when I see a bundle of -<i>Examiners</i> and <i>Athenæums</i> brought in just as they used to be from Mr. -Wells’s, and see James selecting his cigar with particular satisfaction -and giving the fire an express arrangement, and then drawing up his -chair to it and putting his feet on the fender, beginning to read.”</p> - -<p>The anxiety, also, which Lowell felt over his father’s illness benumbed -his faculties and made him restless; but with fair weather, better news -came, and the travellers gave themselves up more unreservedly to the -pleasures which the great city afforded them. But Rome does not thrill -one from the start. It takes time for its ancient hands to get that -clutch which at last never loosens, and Lowell at first seemed somewhat -unaffected. “I like,” he wrote to his father, just before Christmas,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_321" id="page_321">{321}</a></span> -“to walk about in the fine sunshine and get unexpected and -unguide-booked glimpses of fine scenery, but systematic sight-seeing is -very irksome to me. Though we have been in Rome now nearly as long as we -were in Florence, I have not learned to like it as well. We were able to -enjoy Florence sincerely and without any reproaches, because we had not -heard of your illness. Then, too, the churches here are nearly all -alike. Going to see them is like standing to watch a procession of -monks,—the same thing over and over again, and when you have seen one -you have seen all. There is a kind of clumsy magnificence about them, -like that of an elephant with his castle on his back and his gilded -trappings, and the heaviness somehow weighs on one. There is no spring -and soar in their architecture as in that of the Lombard churches I have -seen. The Roman columns standing here and there look gentleman-like -beside them, and reproach them with their tawdry <i>parvenuism</i>. The -finest interior in Rome is that of the Sta. Maria degli Angeli, which -Michelangelo made out of a single room in the baths of Diocletian. Even -the <i>size</i> of St. Peter’s seems inconsiderable in a city where the -Coliseum still stands in crater-like ruin, and where one may trace the -foundations of a palace large enough almost for a city.... Yesterday I -walked out upon the Campagna, but by a different gate from my favorite -San Sebastiano. Leaving the Porta del Popolo, we followed the road as -far as the Ponte Molle, then turned to the right on the hither bank of -the Tiber, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_322" id="page_322">{322}</a></span> we followed as far as the confluence of the Tiber and -Anio, where was once the city of Antemnæ. As it had been destroyed by -Romulus, however, there was nothing to be seen of the old Sabine -stronghold except the flatiron-shaped bluff on which it stood, the -natural height and steepness of which, aided no doubt by art, must have -made the storming of it no very agreeable diversion. The view from the -top is very beautiful, and it is a good place to study the Campagna -scenery from,—I mean the Campagna in a state of nature. Below us flowed -the swift and dirty Tiber, and the yet swifter and dirtier Anio. In -front the Campagna wallowed away as far as the line of snow-streaked -mountains which wall it in. Herds of cattle and of horses dotted it here -and there, the gray cows looking like sheep in the distance to an eye -used always to expect red in kine. Sometimes a sort of square tower -rose, lonely and with no sign of life about it. Looking more carefully, -however, it would turn out to be no tower at all, but only the cottage -of a shepherd perched high above the inundation of malaria on the top of -some ruinous tomb. Add malaria and the idea of desolation to an Illinois -prairie, and you have the Campagna. Where Antemnæ had stood there now -rose a conical wigwam built wholly of thatch, surmounted by a cross, at -the door of which stood a woman in scarlet bodice and multitudinous -petticoat, with a little girl ditto, ditto, but smaller. Seeing us get -out a pocket spyglass, a boy of about eighteen years contrived to muster -energy enough to come<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_323" id="page_323">{323}</a></span> out and stare at us. He was dressed in sheepskin -breeches with the wool on, short wide jacket, red waistcoat, and hat -turned up at the side, and would have looked extremely well in a -landscape—but nowhere else. A smaller boy came up with more -impetuosity—fat, rosy-cheeked, Puck-like, and with eyes that looked as -if their normal condition was that of being close-shut, but which once -opened to the width necessary to take in the extraordinary apparition of -three <i>forestieri</i> at once, would require some maternal aid to get back -again. Large hawks were sliding over the, air above us, and there was no -sound except the sharp whistle of a peasant attending a drove of horses -in the pasture below. Jemmy will like to know that the horses are belled -here (I mean in the fields) as cows are with us, only that the bells are -large enough for a town school. To-night I am going to make the <i>giro</i> -of the churches to see the ceremonies with which Christmas is ushered -in. First an illumination at Santa Maria Maggiore and the cradle of the -Saviour carried in procession at ten o’clock, then mass at midnight in -the San Luigi dei Francesi, then mass at St. Peter’s at three o’clock -<small>A.M.</small> I have not seen a ceremony of the church yet that was impressive, -and hope to be better pleased to-night.”</p> - -<p>How he spent his Christmas is told in a letter to Miss Fay:—</p> - -<p>“Let me tell you about Christmas week, first premising that I go to -church ceremonies here merely that I may see for myself that they are -not<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_324" id="page_324">{324}</a></span> worth seeing. Otherwise they are great bores and fitter for -children. The chief quality of the music is its interminableness, made -up of rises and falls, and of the ceremonies generally you may take a -yard anywhere as of printed cotton, certain that in figure and quality -it will be precisely like what has gone before, and what will follow -after. On Christmas eve the <i>Presepio</i>, a piece of the manger in which -the Saviour was cradled, was carried in procession at the church of -Santa Maria Maggiore. Torches were stuck in the ground for nearly a -quarter of a mile from the church, and ghostly dragoons in their long -white cloaks (like Leonora’s lover) appeared and vanished at intervals -in the uncertain light. The interior of the church is fine, but -completely ruined by the trumpery hangings put up for the occasion. -There were ambassadors’ boxes, as at the opera, and rows of raised seats -on each side near the high altar, for such ladies as chose to come in -black, with black veils upon their heads. I stood among the -undistinguished faithful, and it being a fast, there was such a smell as -if Wethersfield had been first deluged and then cooked by subterranean -fires. I stood wedged between some very strong devotees (who must have -squandered the savings of a year in a garlic debauch) in abject terror -lest my head should be colonized from some of the overpopulated -districts around me.</p> - -<p>“At the end of the church I could dimly see the Pope, with a mitre on -and off at intervals. There was endless Gregorian chanting, then -comparative<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_325" id="page_325">{325}</a></span> silence, with sudden epidemics among the crowd of standing -painfully on tiptoe to stare at nothing; then more endless Gregorian -chantings, more epidemics, and a faint suspicion of frankincense among -the garlic; then something incomprehensible performed in dumb show by -what seemed automaton candles, then an exceedingly slim procession with -the <i>Presepio</i>, which I could not see for the simple reason that it was -inclosed in a silver case. At this point the Hallelujahs of the choir -were fine. Having now fairly bagged my spectacle, I crowded my way out -at the risk of my ribs (for stone doorways are not elastic), and went -home to smoke a cigar preparatory to a midnight excursion to San Luigi -dei Francesi, where, according to rumor, there was to be fine music. -Here I found more sight-seeing Inglesi, more garlic, more populous -neighbors, more endless Gregorian chanting, more automaton candles, and -at midnight a clash of music from a French band, not so good as our -Brigade Band at home.</p> - -<p>“Christmas day, went to St. Peter’s to hear mass celebrated by the Pope -in person. Here were all kinds of antique costumes,—gentlemen in black -velvet doublets with slashed sleeves and ruffs, other gentlemen in -crimson ditto ditto, officers of the Swiss Guard in inlaid corselets, -and privates of ditto in a kind of striped red and yellow barber’s pole -uniform invented by Michelangelo, cardinals, bishops, ambassadors, etc., -but not nearly so large a crowd as I expected. The music was good, and -the whole ended by the Pop<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_326" id="page_326">{326}</a></span>e’s being carried through the Basilica -blessing the people at intervals as he went along. I stood quite near -and had a good view of his face. He looks like a fatter Edward Everett. -This is one of the greatest ceremonies of the year. After it was over I -stood in the piazza watching the equipages of the cardinals. Speaking of -cardinals: I was walking the other day with an English friend, and we -saw a cardinal coming toward us accompanied by his confessor and two -footmen. Behind followed his carriage with a cocked-hatted coachman and -another footman. Should we bow? He was old enough to deserve it, -cardinal or not, so we bowed. Never did man get such percentage for an -investment. First came off his Eminence’s hat. At a respectful interval -came that of the confessor, at another respectful interval those of the -coachman and footmen. It was like a detachment of the allied army -marching on Dunsinane with a <i>bough</i>.</p> - -<p>“I have spoken rather disrespectfully of the music here, but I have -heard good since I came. On New Year’s day the Jesuits have a great -celebration in the church of the Gesu. I took a two hours’ slice of it -in the afternoon. The music was exceedingly fine, a remarkably -well-trained choir accompanied by the finest organ in Rome. The soprano -was a boy with a voice that, with my eyes shut, I could not have -distinguished from that of a woman. We are having also, every Tuesday, -concerts by the St. Peter’s choir, with music of Palestrina, Guglielmi, -Mozart, etc.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_327" id="page_327">{327}</a></span> The music of Palestrina has a special charm for me, -reminding me more than any I ever heard of the æolian harp with its -dainty unexpectedness....</p> - -<p>“In its modern architecture Rome does not please me so much as Florence, -Pisa, Lucca, or Siena, on all of which the religion and politics of the -Middle Ages have stamped themselves ineffaceably. The characteristic of -Roman architecture is ostentation, not splendor, much less grace. Of -course I am speaking generally—there are exceptions. But even in size -the Roman remains dwarf all modern attempts.... There is something epic -in the gray procession of aqueduct arches across the Campagna. They seem -almost like the building of Nature, and are worthy of men whose eyes -were toned to the proportions of an amphitheatre of mountains and of a -city which received tribute from the entire world. Exceeding beautiful -are the mountains which sentinel Rome,—the purple Alban mount, the -gray-peaked Monte Gennaro, the hoary Lionessa, and farther off the blue -island-like Soracte.</p> - -<p>“In art also Rome is wondrously rich, especially in sculpture. For the -study of painting I have seen no gallery like that of the Uffizi at -Florence. And let me advise you, my dear Maria, to see all the Titians -(of which there are many and good) in England. To me he is the greatest -of the painters. This has one quality and that has another, but he -combines more than any. I would rather be the owner of his ‘Sacred and -Profane Love’ in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_328" id="page_328">{328}</a></span> the Borghese collection than of any single picture in -Rome.<a name="FNanchor_92_92" id="FNanchor_92_92"></a><a href="#Footnote_92_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a></p> - -<p>“What do I <i>do</i>? I walk out upon the Campagna, I go to churches and -galleries inadvertently (for I will not convert Italy into a monster -exhibition), and I walk upon the Pincio. Here one may see all the -Fashion and the Title of Rome. Here one may meet magnificent wet-nurses, -bareheaded and red-bodiced, and insignificant princesses Paris-bonneted -and corseted. Here one may see ermine mantles with so many tails that -they remind you of the Arabian Nights. Here one may see the neat, -clean-shirted, short-whiskered, always-conceited Englishman, feeling -himself quite a Luther if he have struggled into a wide-awake hat; or -the other Englishman with years of careful shaving showing unconquerably -through the newly-assumed beard which he wears as unconsciously as Mrs. -Todd might the Bloomer costume for the first time. Here you may see the -American, every inch of him, from his hat to his boots, looking anxious -not to commit itself. Here you may see all the foreign children in Rome, -and among them Mabel, seeming as if her whole diet were <i>capers</i>, and -that they had gradually penetrated and inspired her whole constitution. -I have seen no pair of legs there which compared with hers either for -size or for untamable activity. Here you may see the worst riding you -can possibly imagine: Italians emulating the English style of rising in -the stirrups and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_329" id="page_329">{329}</a></span> bumping forlornly in every direction; French officers, -reminding one of the proverb of setting a beggar on horseback, and John -Bulls, with superfluous eyeglass wedged in the left eye, chins run out -over white chokers, and a general upward tendency of all the features as -who should say, ‘Regard me attentively but awfully; I am on intimate -terms with Lord Fitzpollywog.’ On Saturday evenings we are ‘at home.’ We -have tea, cake, and friends.... The evening before last I went to a -musical party at Mrs. Rich’s. You know what an English musical party is. -Your average Englishman enjoys nothing beyond ‘God save the Queen,’ and -that because he can either beat time or swell the chorus with his own -private contribution of discord. But I saw here the dogged resolution of -the people who have conquered America and India. There was no shrinking -under long variations on the pianoforte, and I could well imagine a -roast beef and plum-pudding basis under the solid indifference which -outlasted a half-hour’s fiddling. Miss Fanny Erskine, a niece of our -hostess, sang well, especially in German, and Emiliani is really a fine -artist with the violin.”</p> - -<p>In an earlier letter to Dr. Howe, Lowell had said: I begin to think -myself too old to travel. As to men,—as I used to say at home,—the -average of human nature to the square foot is very much the same -everywhere; and as to buildings and such like monuments, I bring to them -neither the mind nor the eye of twenty. In almost all such I find myself -more interested, as they are<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_330" id="page_330">{330}</a></span> exponents and illustrations of the -spiritual and political life and progress of the people who built them. -The relations of races to the physical world do not excite me to study -and observation (only to be fruitfully pursued on the spot) in any -proportion to the interest I feel in those relations to the moral -advance of mankind, which one may as easily trace at home, in their -history and literature, as here. But of Rome hereafter. I feel as if I -should continue a stranger and foreigner during my whole six months’ -residence here.” A month or so later he revised a little of this -judgment in a letter to his father, in which he wrote: “You need not be -afraid of our getting attached to Europe. I find the modes of life here -more agreeable to me in some respects, but nothing can replace Elmwood. -In regard to our coming home, the exact time will depend entirely on the -accounts we get of your health. I do not wish to have the money we have -spent thrown away, for I see no chance of our ever coming hither again, -and so I wish to do everything as thoroughly as I can. I have profited -already, I think, in the study of art. I make it a rule now on entering -a gallery to endeavor to make out the painters of such pictures as I -like by the internal characteristics of the works themselves. After I -have made up my mind, I look at my catalogue. I find this an exceedingly -good practice. Of all the more prominent painters, I can now distinguish -the style and motive almost at a glance. Sometimes I make a particular -study of a particular artist, if any gallery is especially rich in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_331" id="page_331">{331}</a></span> -works. Life is rather more picturesque here than with us, and I find -that I am accumulating a certain kind of wealth which may be useful to -me hereafter. The condition and character of the people also interest me -much, and I think that my understanding of European politics will be -much clearer than before my visit to Europe. To understand properly, -however, requires time and thought and the power of dissociating real -from accidental causes. I wish to see well what I see at all—and, if -possible, would like to visit Germany, France, and England before coming -home.”</p> - -<p>The social life of Rome in the English and American circles engaged the -travellers, and Lowell made his début as an actor. Private theatricals,” -he writes his father, 1 February, 1852, “are all the rage now in Rome. -There are three companies. I have an engagement in one of them under the -management of Mr. Black, who has erected a pretty enough little theatre -in the Palazzo Cini, where he has apartments,—or an apartment, as they -would say here. We gave our first representation last Thursday night to -a select audience of English and Americans. Our play was a portion of -Midsummer Night’s Dream, including part of the fairy scenes, and the -whole of the interlude of the clowns. In this interlude, I was the star, -having the part of Bottom assigned to me. On the morning of Thursday, I -wrote a prologue of some thirty lines which I recited to open the -performances. This, to me, was the plum of the evening’s entertainment. -In the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_332" id="page_332">{332}</a></span> place, I do not think that the audience had any idea that -I was a prologue at all, till I had got nearly through; for I was -obliged to speak it in the costume of Bottom, not having time to dress -in the interval between the prologue and my first appearance in -character. But even if they guessed what I was about, it never entered -their heads that it was intended to be funny till about the middle, when -a particularly well-defined pun touched off a series of -laughter-explosions which kept going off at intervals during the rest of -my recitation, as the train ran along from one mind to another. It was -exceedingly diverting to me, for, knowing the requisitions of a -prologue, I had written it down to the meanest capacity, and all the -jokes were <i>a-b-abs</i>. I was very much struck with the difference between -an English and an American audience. The minds of our countrymen are -infinitely quicker both in perception and conception, and I am certain -my prologue would have set a room full of them in roars of laughter.”</p> - -<p>The list of persons who engaged in these private theatricals is an -interesting one. Mr. Charles C. Black, to whom Lowell refers, was the -begetter of the entertainment, and with him were W. W. Story, Charles -Hemans, Shakespeare Wood, W. Temple, J. Hayllar, and T. Crawford. There -were two different representations of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” and -Lowell wrote two separate prologues. The first began:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“When Thespis rode upon his one-horse cart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The first exponent of the Drama’s art,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_333" id="page_333">{333}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earliest of managers, and happiest too,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Having a theatre which always drew.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">Then followed a comparison of the stationary theatre with the vagrant -one, and the brief prologue ended with some jests on the actors, as on -himself:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“If Pyramus be short, restrain your ire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Remember none of us appear for hire;”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">and on Crawford:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Forgive our Thisbe the moustache she wears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ladies, you know, <i>will</i> put on little ’airs.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">Story, who was to play Snug, hunted through Rome for a lion’s skin, and -finally had to content himself with the skin of a tiger.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“But now comes one fact I proclaim with glory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Snug is enacted by our attic Story,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who sought a lion’s hide through Rome, a week,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quite a new way of playing hide and seek.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>In the first representation Lowell had the part of Pyramus, in the -second he was Bottom, and as he intimates made his new prologue more -comprehensible by his audience. He pretended to have received a request -from Mr. Black to write the prologue, and so begins:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Dear Bottom, if you can, I wish you’d write<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A prologue for our comedy to-night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just tap that comic vein of yours which runs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Discharging a continuous stream of puns.’<span class="lftspc">”</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">And that is what the second prologue consists of, with some repetition -even of the jokes of the first, ending:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Now who plays Pyramus! no, that won’t go well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I cannot get a good thing out of Lowell.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faith, that’s too near the truth, it’s past my power,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_334" id="page_334">{334}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I’ve been trying at it half an hour.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At all events I can proclaim with glory<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Snug is enacted by our Attic Story;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who sought a lion’s skin through Rome a week,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quite a nice way of playing hide and seek.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the last lion that was seen in Rome<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was Dickens,—and he carried his skin home.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thisbe’s moustache. The Greek girls never had any?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll just remind them of Miss Hairyadne.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I can’t do it. Dite al Signore,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What’s more I won’t—che sono fuori.”<a name="FNanchor_93_93" id="FNanchor_93_93"></a><a href="#Footnote_93_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>An undercurrent of anxiety and affection for his father runs through the -correspondence at this time, and a month later he seeks to gratify a -grandfather’s feelings by devoting a whole letter, written as clearly as -possible that his father might read it himself, about the sayings and -doings of the two children. Some theologic questions are beginning,” he -writes, “to vex her [Mabel’s] mind somewhat. She inquired of me very -gravely the other day, when I said something to her about her Heavenly -Father, ‘Papa, have I got a Heavenly Grandfather?’ The pictures in the -churches make a great impression (and not always a pleasant one) upon -her. She said to me one day: ‘O my dear papa, I love you so very much, -because you take care of me; and I love mamma very much because<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_335" id="page_335">{335}</a></span> she -takes care of me; and I love Mary very much because she takes care of -me; and I love Heavenly Father because he takes care of me; and I love -the Madonna very much because she takes care of me; and I love the -angels because they take care of me; and I love that one with the swords -stuck into her, and that other one with the stick.’ These last were no -doubt pictures she had seen somewhere. During Carnival, we did not let -her go to the Corso much, because there was so much throwing of -<i>confetti</i>, which are small seeds or pellets of clay about as large as -peas, coated with plaster of Paris. However, she saw the edges of the -great stream, here and there, as it overflowed into the side streets, -and talked a great deal to Faustina about <i>Pulcinelli</i> and <i>Pagliacci</i>. -She threatened rather sharply to pay back ‘Mister <i>Pulcinello</i>’ (as she -always respectfully called him when she spoke of him in English) in his -own coin, if he threw any <i>confetti</i>, or oftener, <i>nasty confetti</i>, at -her. One day she was walking with me through the Piazza di Spagna, with -half a roll in her hand, when she saw one of the lacqueys of the S. P. -Q. R. in his queer costume. She instantly set him down for a -<i>Pulcinello</i>, and I had much ado to hinder her from hurling the fragment -of her roll at him, much as she once threw a dry bun at somebody else -who shall be nameless. She is making great progress in Italian under the -tuition of Dinda and Amelia, two nice little girls, daughters of our -Padrone. One of the great events in her day is always the pudding—in -<i>trattoria</i> Italian <i>il budino</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_336" id="page_336">{336}</a></span> As soon as the great tin <i>stufa</i> has -safely made its descent from the head of the <i>facchino</i> to the floor, -she begins a dance around it, shouting in a voice loud enough to be -heard as far as the Trinità dei Monti, ‘<i>O Faustina, ditemi! C’è un -puddino oggi?</i>’ And if it turn out that there be only a pie, which is a -forbidden <i>dolce</i> to her, she forthwith drops her voice to its lowest -key and growls—‘<i>Mi dispiace molto, mo-o-lto, Faustina; pudino non c’è: -ce sono solamente pasticcie</i>.’ Sometimes I have heard her add with a -good deal of dignity, ‘<i>Dite al cuoco che mi dispiace molto</i>.’ A day or -two ago, when she saw a plum-pudding come upon the table, she could not -contain herself, but, springing up into her chair (for she can never -express satisfaction without using her legs—her intoxications seeming -to take direction the reverse of common), she began dancing and waving -her arms quite like a Bacchanal, at the same time singing—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Oh, quanto mi piace, roba dolce, il puddino!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quando lo mangio, sono felice, padrino!’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">I offer this to Jemmy to translate, as an Italian exercise, for his -paper. If it be not equal to Dante, upon my word I think it quite up to -a good deal of Tasso, and much more to the point than nine tenths of -Petrarca. Improvisations are seldom put to the test of being written -down, but this bears it very well. The tender <i>padrino</i>—<i>Dear little -Father</i>—was an adroit bribe, which got her a third piece of pudding by -the unanimous vote of our household senate. Ask Charlie to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_337" id="page_337">{337}</a></span> read over -the muddy stuff which Byron thought it necessary to pump up about St. -Peter’s, etc., in ‘Childe Harold,’ and say if he do not agree with me -that his lordship would have made a better hand of it if he had devoted -himself to sincerities like this?...</p> - -<p>“As for Walter, he grows and thrives finely. He can say A, B, C, D, or -something considerably like it—nearer, in fact, a good deal, than the -first four letters of the Chinese alphabet would be. He has done, during -the last week, what I have challenged many older persons to do, namely, -cut a double tooth. I doubt if a cabinet minister in Europe can say the -same of himself. He has grown very fond of his papa, and sometimes -crawls to my door of a morning before I am out of bed, and then, getting -upon his feet, knocks and calls ‘Papa! papa!’ laying the accent very -strongly on the first syllable. If he hears my voice, he immediately -springs up in Mary’s lap, and begins shouting lustily for me. He is the -fairest boy that ever was seen, and has the bluest eyes, and is the -baldest person in Rome except two middle-aged Englishmen, who, you know, -have a great knack that way.... In a word, he is one of that countless -number of extraordinary boys out of which the world contrives afterward -to make such ordinary men. I think him rather intelligent—but, as the -picture dealers say, <i>chi sa</i>? As he is mine, I shall do rather as the -picture-buyers, and call what I have got by any name I please. One -cannot say definitely so early. It is hard to tell of a green<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_338" id="page_338">{338}</a></span> shoot -just worming out of the ground whether it will be an oak or an -onion—they all look much alike at first.”</p> - -<p>Not an oak, but a plant and flower of light, Lowell might shortly have -said, for this is the last reference in life to the child suddenly -stricken down and left behind in a Roman grave by the mourning parents, -when, on the 29th of April, they went away from Rome to Naples with the -one child of their four who lived to them. On the 13th of the month -Lowell wrote to his eldest sister: “We are now within a fortnight of -bidding farewell to what I am now forced to call dear old Rome. In spite -of its occupation by an army of ten thousand French soldiers, in spite -of its invasion by that more terrible force, the column of English -travellers, in spite of the eternal drumming and bugling and -sentinelling in the streets, and the crowding of that insular Bull—<i>qui -semper habet fœnum in cornu</i>—there is an insensible charm about the -place which grows upon you from hour to hour. There must be few cities -where one can command such absolute solitude as here. One cannot expect -it, to be sure, in the Colosseum by moonlight, for thither the English -go by carriage loads to be lonely with a footman in livery behind them, -and to quote Byron’s stuff out of Murray’s Guide; there perch the French -in voluble flocks, under the necessity (more painful to them than to any -other people) of being poetical—chattering <i>Mon Dieu! qu’un joli -effet!</i> But an hour’s walk will take one out into the Campagna, where -you will<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_339" id="page_339">{339}</a></span> look across the motionless heave of the solitude dotted here -and there with lazy cattle to the double wall of mountain, the nearest -opaline with change of light and shadow, the farther Parian with snow -that only grows whiter when the cloud shadows melt across it—the air -overhead rippling with larks too countless to be watched, and the turf -around you glowing with strange flowers, each a wonder, yet so -numberless that you would as soon think of gathering a nosegay of grass -blades. On Easter Sunday I spent an incomparable day at the Fountain of -Egeria, stared at sullenly, now and then, by one of those great gray -Campagna bulls, but totally safe from the English variety which had gone -to get broken ribs at St. Peter’s. The show-box unholiness of Holy Week -is at last well over. The best part of it was that on Holy Thursday all -the Vatican was open at once—fifteen miles of incomparable art. For me -the Pope washed perfumed feet, and the Cardinal Penitentiary wielded his -long rod in vain. I dislike such spectacles naturally, and saw no reason -why I should undergo every conceivable sort of discomfort and annoyance -for the sake of another discomfort or annoyance at the end....</p> - -<p>“The finest <i>show</i> I have seen in Rome is the illumination of St. -Peter’s. Just after sunset I saw from the head of the <i>scalinata</i>, the -little points of light creeping down from the cross and lantern -(trickling, as it were) over the dome. Then I walked over to the Piazza -di San Pietro, and the first glimpse I caught of it again was from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_340" id="page_340">{340}</a></span> -Ponte Sant’ Angelo. I could not have believed it would have been so -beautiful. There was no time or space to pause here. Foot passengers -crowding hither and thither as they heard the shout of <i>Avanti!</i> from -the coachmen behind—dragoon-horses getting unmanageable just where -there were most women to be run over—and all the while the dome drawing -all eyes and thoughts the wrong way, made a hubbub to be got out of as -soon as possible. Five minutes more of starting and dodging, and we were -in the piazza. You have seen it and know how it seems, as if the setting -sun had lodged upon the horizon and then burnt out, the fire still -clinging to its golden ribs as they stand out against the evening sky. -You know how, as you come nearer, you can see the soft travertine of the -façade suffused with a tremulous golden gloom like the innermost shrine -of a water-lily. And then the change comes as if the wind had suddenly -fanned what was embers before into flame. If you could see <i>one</i> sunset -in a lifetime and were obliged to travel four thousand miles to see it, -it would give you a similar sensation; but an everyday sunset does not, -for we take the gifts of God as a matter of course.</p> - -<p>“After wondering long enough in the piazza, I went back to the Pincio -(or rather the Trinità dei Monti) and watched it for an hour longer. I -did not wish to see it go out. To me it seemed better to go home with -the consciousness that it was still throbbing, as if I could make myself -believe that there was a kind of permanence in it, and that I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_341" id="page_341">{341}</a></span> should -see it there again some happy evening. Before leaving it, I went away -and came back several times, and at every return it was a new -miracle—the more miraculous for being a human piece of fairy work.</p> - -<p>“Last night there was another wonder, the Girandola, which we saw -excellently well from the windows of the American legation. Close behind -me, by the way, stood Silvio Pellico (a Jesuit now), a little withered -old man in spectacles, looking so very dry that I could scarce believe -he had ever been shut up in a <i>damp</i> dungeon in his life. This was (I -mean the Girandola) the most brilliant and at the same time tasteful -display of fireworks I ever saw. I had no idea that so much powder could -be burned to so good purpose. For the first time in my life I saw -rockets that seemed endowed with life and intelligence. They might have -been thought filled with the same vivacity and enjoyment so -characteristic of the people. Our rockets at home seem business-like in -comparison. They accomplish immense heights in a steady straight-forward -way, explode as a matter of course, and then the stick hurries back to -go about its terrestrial affairs again. And yet why should I malign -those beautiful slow curves of fire, that I have watched with Charlie -and Jemmie from Simonds’s Hill, and which I would rather see again than -twenty Girandolas? If Michelangelo had designed our fireworks, and if it -did not by some fatal coincidence always rain on the evening of 4th -July, doubtless they would be better.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_342" id="page_342">{342}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Something of the total impression made upon Lowell in this first visit -to Rome may be seen in the fragment of a letter to Mr. John Holmes, -written near the end of his stay:—</p> - -<p>“After all, this is a wonderful place. One feels disappointed at first, -everything looks so modern. But as the mind, taking in ruin after ruin, -gradually reconstructs for itself the grandeur and the glory, of which -these city-like masses are but the splinters sprinkled here and there by -the fall of the enormous fabric, and conceives the spiritual which has -outlived that temporal domination, and even surpassed it, laying its -foundations deeper than the reach of earthquake or Gaul, and conquering -worlds beyond the ken of the Roman eagles in their proudest flight, a -feeling of the sublime, vague and vast, takes the place of the first -hurried curiosity and interest. Surely the American (and I feel myself -more intensely American every day) is last of all at home among -ruins—but he is at home in Rome. I cannot help believing that in some -respects we represent more truly the old Roman Power and sentiment than -any other people. Our art, our literature, are, as theirs, in some sort -exotics; but our genius for politics, for law, and, above all, for -colonization, our instinct for aggrandizement and for trade, are all -Roman. I believe we are laying the basis of a more enduring power and -prosperity, and that we shall not pass away till we have stamped -ourselves upon the whole western hemisphere so deeply, so nobly, that -if, in the far-away future, some Gibbon<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_343" id="page_343">{343}</a></span> shall muse among our ruins, the -history of our Decline and Fall shall be more mournful and more epic -than that of the huge Empire amid the dust of whose once world-shaking -heart these feelings so often come upon me.”</p> - -<p>The last week before leaving Rome was spent in an excursion with Story -to Subiaco, as related at length in “Leaves from my Journal in Italy.” -On their way to Naples the Lowells made a halt at Terracina, from which -place Lowell wrote to Robert Carter: “Here I am, with a magnificent -cliff opposite my window crowned by twelve arches of what is called the -Palace of Theodoric. I have just come in from seeing the Cathedral, the -dirtiest church I have seen in Italy (with a very picturesque old -Campanile, however), and the remains of the old Roman port, which -astonished me by their size even after all I had seen of Roman hugeness. -The port is now filled with soil, and there is a fine orange garden -where vessels used to lie. Terracina is nothing like what I expected to -see. The inn (or ‘Grand’ Albergo, as it is called) is one of the least -cutthroat looking places I ever saw. It is quite out of the town, -between the great cliff and the sea. Behind it, on the beach, the scene -is quite Neapolitan—forty or fifty bare-legged fishermen are drawing a -great seine out of the water, and forty or fifty dirty, laughing, -ragged, happily-wretched children gather round you and beg for <i>caccose</i> -or <span class="smcap">cecco</span>, by which they mean <i>qualche cosa</i>. The women sit round the -doors, nasty and contented, urging on their offspring in their -profes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_344" id="page_344">{344}</a></span>sional career. They are the most obstinate beggars I have seen -yet. In Rome the waving of the two first fingers of the hand and a -decided <i>non c’è</i> is generally sufficient, but here I tried every -expedient in vain. The prickly pear grows bloatedly in all the ledges of -the cliff, an olive orchard climbs half-way up the back of it where the -hill is less steep, and farther to the left there are tall palms in a -convent garden, but I cannot see them.</p> - -<p>“The drive over the Pontine marshes is for more than twenty miles a -perfectly straight, smooth avenue, between double rows of elms. I had -been told it was very dull, but did not find it so; for there were -mountains on one side of us, cultivated, or cattle and horse-covered -fields or woods on the other, and the birds sang and the sun shone all -the way. It seemed like the approach to some prince’s pleasure-house.... -On the whole, the result of my experience thus far is that I am glad -that I came abroad, though the knowledge one acquires must rust for want -of use in a great measure at home. To be sure, one’s political ideas are -also somewhat modified—I don’t mean retrograded.”</p> - -<p>The progress of the travellers is but briefly recorded after this. They -were in Naples early in May, and thence they appear to have made their -way to Venice, and to have spent the summer in leisurely travel through -the Italian lakes, Switzerland, Germany, Provence, and France, reaching -England in the early autumn. Here they saw <span class="pagenum"><a name="page_345" id="page_345">{345}</a></span>London, Oxford, and -Cambridge. “We have been also,” Lowell wrote to his father, “at Ely, -where the cathedral is one of the most interesting I have seen. I know -nothing for which I am more thankful than the opportunity I have had of -seeing fine buildings. I think they give me a more absolute pleasure -than anything except fine natural scenery. Perhaps I should not except -even this, for the sense that it is a triumph of the brain and hand of -man certainly heightens the delight we feel in them. I think that Ely, -more than anything else, turned the scale and induced us to stay a month -longer.” From London, Lowell made an excursion with Kenyon to Bath to -see Landor, and thirty-six years later he jotted down some of the -impressions he then received of the man, whose writings he had long -admired.<a name="FNanchor_94_94" id="FNanchor_94_94"></a><a href="#Footnote_94_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a></p> - -<p>A trip followed through England and into Scotland and Wales, which took -in Peterborough, Lincoln, York, Ripon, Fountains Abbey, Durham, -Edinburgh, and the haunts of Scott, the Scottish and English lakes, and -then the Lowells took steamer from Liverpool, 30 October, 1852.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_346" id="page_346">{346}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /><br /> -<small>AN END AND A BEGINNING</small><br /><br /> -<small>1852-1857</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Lowell</span> had the good fortune to have for a companion at sea Thackeray, -who was on his way to America to give his lectures on the English -Humourists; he liked the man very much, and his occasional references to -the author in his letters and critical papers intimate the high regard -he had for his work. Another congenial companion on shipboard was Arthur -Hugh Clough, with whom he formed a warm and enduring friendship. It was -a thirteen days’ passage, and on the 12th of November the Lowells were -again at home in Elmwood. The coming of the two Englishmen gave occasion -for many little festivities in Boston and Cambridge. A glimpse is given -of them in Mr. Longfellow’s printed journal, when the poet summoned -Clough, Lowell, Felton, and C. E. Norton to feast on some English grouse -and pheasant sent him from Liverpool by Mr. Henry Bright, and in the -evening at the Nortons’ there were private theatricals with a “nice -little epilogue written by Mr. Clough,” who shortly established himself -indefinitely in Cambridge.</p> - -<p>Clough has left a little picture of the interior<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_347" id="page_347">{347}</a></span> of Elmwood: “Yesterday -I had a walk with James Lowell to a very pretty spot, Beaver Brook. Then -I dined with him, his wife, and his father, a fine old minister who is -stone deaf, but talks to you. He began by saying that he was born an -Englishman, i. e. before the end of the Revolution. Then he went on to -say, ‘I have stood as near to George III. as to you now;’ ‘I saw -Napoleon crowned Emperor;’ then, ‘Old men are apt to be garrulous, -especially about themselves;’ ‘I saw the present Sultan ride through -Constantinople on assuming the throne;’ and so on,—all in a strong -clear voice, and in perfect sentences, which you saw him making -beforehand. And all one could do was to bow and look expressive, for he -could only just hear when his son got up and shouted in his ear.”<a name="FNanchor_95_95" id="FNanchor_95_95"></a><a href="#Footnote_95_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a> -Lowell gave briefly his estimate of Clough’s genius when he wrote a few -weeks later to Mr. Briggs: “I wish to write a review of his ‘Bothie,’ to -serve him in event of a new edition. It is one of the most charming -books ever written,—to my thinking quite as much by itself as the -‘Vicar of Wakefield.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>With his European experience behind him Lowell was eager to plunge into -literature, and his intention at first was to try his hand at fiction, -possibly turning his experience to account somewhat after the manner of -his neighbor’s “Hyperion.” At any rate, Longfellow notes in his diary -under date of 29 November, 1852: “Met Lowell in the street and brought -him home to smoke a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_348" id="page_348">{348}</a></span> pipe. He had been to the bookseller’s to buy a -blank book to begin a Novel, on the writing of which his mind is bent. -He seems rather sad and says he does not take an interest in anything. -This is the reaction after the excitement of foreign travel. Lowell will -write a capital novel, and when he gets warm in the harness will feel -happier;” and a fortnight later he makes the entry: “Lowell came in. He -has begun his novel.”</p> - -<p>It is to be suspected that he never went far in the attempt. A dozen -years later, when Mr. Fields wanted him to write a novel for the -<i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, he made the summary answer: “I can’t write one nor -conceive how any one else can.” Yet he could not have abandoned the -trial immediately, for in June he was writing to Briggs: “I have got so -far as to have written the first chapter of a prose book,—a sort of New -England autobiography, which may turn out well.”<a name="FNanchor_96_96" id="FNanchor_96_96"></a><a href="#Footnote_96_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a></p> - -<p>Meanwhile, he was met on his arrival in America with a piece of literary -news which was welcome for its own sake and because it promised an -outlet for his productions. His friend Briggs as editor-in-chief, with -G. W. Curtis and Parke Godwin for assistants, was just about launching a -new magazine in New York, which was likely to come nearer fulfilling the -ideal Lowell had long cher<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_349" id="page_349">{349}</a></span>ished than anything thus far issued in -America. <i>Putnam’s Monthly</i> had behind it an active publishing house, -whose head, Mr. G. P. Putnam, had that indefinable quality which makes a -publisher, if not an author himself, a genuine appreciator of good -literature, and a man whose friendship with authors rested on a basis -which was social as well as commercial. He had shown his sagacity and -business insight by taking up the writings of Washington Irving when -that author was in neglect, and winning a substantial success with them. -He cared for the books he published and listened willingly to Mr. Briggs -when that gentleman, who had been engaged in many editorial enterprises, -argued that the time was ripe for a literary monthly which should stand -for American literature of the best sort, and should at the same time -concern itself with public affairs and furnish also that miscellaneous -entertainment of narrative and description for which the American public -showed a liking. <i>Harper’s New Monthly Magazine</i> had been started a -couple of years before, but it was almost wholly a reprint of English -current literature, and even its cover was a copy of <i>Bentley’s</i>. It -had, however, struck a popular taste, and its success made other -publishers jealous, while its easy use of foreign matter made the men of -letters angry.</p> - -<p>The prospectus of <i>Putnam’s Monthly</i>, in which the fact that it was to -be “an entirely original work” was emphasized, announced that it was -“intended to combine the more various and amusing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_350" id="page_350">{350}</a></span> characteristics of a -popular magazine with the higher and graver qualities of a quarterly -review,” and that when a subject needed illustrations or pictorial -examples, such illustrations would occasionally be given. The rate of -payment was fair for the time: poetry had no fixed rates, but Lowell -received fifty dollars for a poem of two hundred and fifty lines or so, -and prose was paid at the rate of three dollars a page. Hawthorne and -Emerson were among those who promised their work, though neither seems -to have contributed, but Longfellow printed several poems. The articles -and poems were all unsigned. The early numbers gave good promise, and -Curtis, with his “Prue and I” papers gave a distinction of lightness and -added the flavor which every literary magazine covets but can rarely -command. The first number, Briggs declared with elation, had run up to -twenty thousand copies, and the second number had one of those articles, -“Have we a Bourbon among us?” which are the joy of the magazine editor -for the buzz which they create in the reading community. But the high -hopes with which <i>Putnam’s</i> started out somehow faded. There were -exceptionally good poems and the general average of writing was high, -but the magazine soon satisfied curiosity without creating a demand, and -the financial embarrassment of the publisher after two years compelled a -transfer of the publishing interest which was followed by a steady -decline in quality.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Mr. Briggs looked eagerly to Lowell for help, and for his -first number received the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_351" id="page_351">{351}</a></span> poem “The Fountain of Youth,” which had been -lying in the poet’s portfolio for three years. He suggested that Lowell -should publish “The Nooning” as a serial. This was not to be, but -whether from this suggestion or not, Lowell suddenly took it into his -head to start a serio-comic poem in Alexandrines, under the heading “Our -Own, his Wanderings and Personal Adventures,” in which he intended to -personate a correspondent of the magazine, who should travel in Europe, -and employ his nonsense and satire on men and things. He began leisurely -enough, heading his page with a Greek, a Latin, and an English motto, -each cleverly hinting at the plan and the name of the piece. The Latin -“<i>Quæ regio in terris Nostri non plena laboris?</i>” was Englished in</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Full many cities he hath seen and many great men known;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What place on earth but testifies the labors of <i>our own</i>?”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">Then he makes a doggerel verse under Digression A which slyly imitates -Spenser’s verse table-of-contents, and so with Digressions, Invocation, -and Progression he saunters carelessly along. “The last few days,” he -writes to Briggs, 17 February, 1853, “I have worked in earnest. I wrote -one hundred and fifty lines yesterday, and it is thought funny by the -constituency in my little Buncombe here. I have hopes that it will be -the best thing I have done in the satiric way after I once get fairly -agoing. I am thus far taking the run back for the jump. I have enlarged -my plan and, if you like it, can make it run through several numbers. It -is cruel, impudent,—sassy, I meant to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_352" id="page_352">{352}</a></span> write. Some parts of it I have -flavored slightly with Yankee,—but not in dialect. I wish to make it -something more than ephemeral, and shall put more thinking into it as I -go along. My idea for it is a glass of punch, sweetness, sourness, -spirit, and a dash of that Chinese herb favorable to meditation.”</p> - -<p>There were three numbers only published of “Our Own,” though the last -carried the legend “To be continued” at its foot. The perplexed editor -hardly knew how to answer Lowell’s demand for criticism. He himself was -immensely entertained, he averred, but nobody else was; although he had -heard of one or two, and Lowell added the names of two or three more, it -was clear to Mr. Briggs that the verses did not take, and he grew -petulant over the stupidity of the public. Lowell’s own ardor cooled. -The style of composition was indeed to real writing what the pun is to -real wit. In the heat of firing off these fire-crackers, ever so much -execution seems to be done, but the laugh that follows is not repeated, -and the cleverness and point seem dulled when the bristling jests crowd -each other, giving no relief to each.</p> - -<p>Lowell could not quite agree with Briggs in the deference which the -latter was disposed to pay to the expressions of the public upon the -contents of his magazine: “I doubt if your magazine,” he writes, “will -become really popular if you edit it for the mob. Nothing is more -certain than that popularity goes downward and not up (I mean per<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_353" id="page_353">{353}</a></span>manent -popularity), and it is what the few like now that the many have got to -like by and by. Now don’t turn the tables on me and say that,—not the -<i>very</i> few. I have pretty much given up the notion that I can be popular -either upward or downward, and what I say has no reference to myself. I -wish I could be. But it strikes me that you want as much variety as -possible. It is not merely necessary that the matter should be good, but -that it should be individual.”</p> - -<p>A good many years afterward when Lowell was making up a volume of poems, -he looked again at “Our Own” to see if it was worth preserving, and out -of the whole six hundred lines he saved only the verses now headed -“Fragments of an Unfinished Poem” and the two charming stanzas -“Aladdin.”<a name="FNanchor_97_97" id="FNanchor_97_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_97_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a> The insertion of this little poem in the midst of his -nonsense indicates that if Lowell had found sufficient encouragement he -might, especially after reaching Europe in his plan, have worked off the -surplusage of high spirits and thrown into his rambling discourse both -caustic satire and genial humor.</p> - -<p>A more satisfactory and successful contribution which was -enthusiastically received by the editor was “A Moosehead Journal,” which -was in effect a journal, sent home to his wife, of an excursion made by -Lowell in the summer of 1853 with his nephew Charles; and in the spring -of 1854 ap<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_354" id="page_354">{354}</a></span>peared in two parts the well-known sketch of “Cambridge -Thirty Years Ago,” under the title, “Fireside Travels.” The paper seems -to have grown out of an unused sketch of Allston which Lowell had begun -for <i>Putnam’s</i> in September, 1853. “What I have written (or part of -it),” he says to the editor, “would make a unique article for your -magazine, if the other thing is given up. It is a sketch of Cambridge as -it was twenty-five years ago, and is done as nobody but I could do it, -for nobody knows the old town so well. I mean one of these days to draw -a Commencement as it used to be.” Lowell does not appear to have -contributed to <i>Putnam’s</i> after December, 1854, when his portrait, an -engraving by Hall after Page’s painting, served as frontispiece to the -number, being one of a series of portraits of contributors to the -magazine.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, when <i>Putnam’s</i> was at the top of its brief tide, another -attempt at a good literary magazine was made in Boston. The -extraordinary success of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” had emboldened its -publisher, Mr. John P. Jewett, to undertake what its projector, Mr. F. -H. Underwood, called a “Literary and Anti-Slavery Magazine.” It was the -intention to issue the first number in January, 1854, and to use the -great reputation of Mrs. Stowe to float it by printing a new novel by -her. Mr. Underwood<a name="FNanchor_98_98" id="FNanchor_98_98"></a><a href="#Footnote_98_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a> was particularly desirous of securing Lowell’s -aid, especially as he esteemed his poetry quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_355" id="page_355">{355}</a></span> the best to be had in -America, and he was elated at receiving from him the poem “The Oriole’s -Nest,” afterward called simply “The Nest.” But the design which had been -germinating for two or three years was suddenly brought to naught by the -failure of the luckless publishers, whose success with “Uncle Tom’s -Cabin” seems to have been thrust upon them, rather than to have been due -to their business ability. So a fortnight after sending his poem, Lowell -was forced to write the disconcerted editor: “I cannot help writing a -word to say how truly sorry I was to hear of the blowing up of your -magazine. But it is not so irreparable as if it had been a -powder-magazine, though perhaps all the harder to be borne because it -was only <i>in posse</i> and not <i>in esse</i>. The explosion of one of those -Castles in Spain sometimes sprinkles dust on all the rest of our lives, -but I hope you are of better heart, and will rather look upon the affair -as a burning of your ships which makes victory the more imperative. -Although I could prove by a syllogism in <i>barbara</i> that you are no worse -off than you were before, I know very well that you <i>are</i>, for if it be -bad to lose mere coin, it is still worse to lose hope, which is the mint -in which most gold is manufactured.</p> - -<p>“But, after all, is it a hopeless case? Consider yourself to be in the -position of all the world before the Mansion of our Uncle Thomas (as I -suppose we must call it now, it has grown so respectable) was published, -and never to have heard of this Mr. Jew-wit. I think he ought to -be—that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_356" id="page_356">{356}</a></span> something ought to be done for him: but for that matter nearly -all booksellers stand in the same condemnation. There are as good fish -in that buccaneering sea of Bibliopoly as ever were caught, and if one -of them has broken away from your harpoon, I hope the next may prove a -downright kraaken, on whom, if needful, you can pitch your tent and -live.</p> - -<p>“Don’t think that I am trifling with you. God knows any jests of mine -would be of a bitter sort just now; but I know that it is a good thing -for a man to be made to look at his misfortune till it assumes its true -relations to things about it. So don’t think me intrusive if I nudge -your elbow among the rest.”</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>A few weeks after the return of the Lowells to America, Longfellow took -Clough on a walk to Elmwood. “Lowell,” he says, “we found musing before -his fire in his study. His wife came in, slender and pale as a lily.” In -reading “A Year’s Life” one is struck by the frequency with which the -shadow of death falls across the page. It is true that when he wrote the -poems, when indeed he fell in with Maria White, Lowell was struggling -out of an atmosphere which was full of damp mist, and the image of death -naturally rose constantly before him. Yet it remains that from the -beginning of his passion he associated this love with the idea of death. -So frail, so almost ethereal was the woman who came thus into his life, -that from the first he was constantly sheltering her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_357" id="page_357">{357}</a></span> from the cold -blast. The solicitude deepened his passion; it accustomed him at the -same time to the idea of transitoriness in the life he led. It is -entirely possible, nay, very probable, that this spiritually-bodied girl -was permitted to develop into a gracious womanhood through the very fact -of her marriage and her motherhood: Lowell’s own mood during the nine -years of married life was, as we have seen, often irrepressibly gay and -sanguine, and after the death of each of their children the two seemed -to spring back into a wholesome delight in life. Still, the fear could -never have long been out of their minds, and, after Walter died in Rome, -the mother seems steadily to have drooped. When Lowell sent “The Nest” -to Underwood, he speaks of it as an old poem: “Perhaps,” he says, “it -seems better to me than it deserves, for an intense meaning has been -added to it.” The meaning had then indeed been deepened, but when it was -written, there was more than remote prophecy in the lines—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“When springs of life that gleamed and gushed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Run chilled, and slower, and are hushed.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>The year that passed after the return from Europe saw Mrs. Lowell -declining in strength, though it was not till September, 1853, that his -letters betray Lowell’s deepening anxiety, and it was not till the end -of the month that he fully realized the progress disease had made. Mrs. -Lowell died 27 October, and Lowell was left alone with his little -daughter. The visionary faculty, which all his life had been what might -almost be<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_358" id="page_358">{358}</a></span> called another sense, came now to his help and for awhile he -lived as if the companion of thirteen years, though shut out from his -daily sight, visited him in the solitude and silence of the night. “I -have the most beautiful dreams,” he writes, “and never as if any change -had come to us. Once I saw her sitting with Walter on her knee, and she -said to me, ‘See what a fine strong boy he is grown.’ And one night as I -was lying awake and straining my eyes through the gloom, and the -palpable darkness was surging and gathering and dispersing as it will, I -suddenly saw far, far off a crescent of angels standing and shining -silently. But oh! it is a million times better to have had her and lost -her, than to have had and kept any other woman I ever saw.”</p> - -<p>It had given both husband and wife a great pleasure to see one and -another of Mrs. Lowell’s poems printed during the last year in <i>Putnam’s -Monthly</i>. Mr. Briggs, with his affectionate regard for both, was eager -to print the verses as they were sent him, and reported all the -agreeable words that came to him respecting the poems. The latest to be -printed was one on Avignon, in which the poet kept turning back from the -historic and spectacular sights to some oleanders which stood by her -window. “How beautiful it was,” Lowell wrote to Briggs, “and how fitting -for the last. I am going to print them all—but not publish them -yet—she did not wish it. I shall give a copy, with a calotype from a -drawing which Cheney is to make from Page’s picture, to all her -friends.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_359" id="page_359">{359}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>It was a year and more before the volume was printed, bearing the title -“The Poems of Maria Lowell,” and inscribed to Mrs. Story, Mrs. Putnam, -and Mrs. Shaw, three friends of whose loving appreciation Lowell had had -many assurances. There are only twenty poems in the volume. Most had -been printed before, one, “The Morning-Glory,” in Lowell’s own -collection. None of her translations were included. One looks naturally -in such a volume rather for intimations of the writer’s character, and -for touches of personal feeling, than for poetic art. Mrs. Lowell -herself plainly had but a humble conceit of her poetic gift, and it does -not appear that poetry was an abundant resource with her. But art there -is of no mean order in this little book. It is a delicate instrument on -which she plays; there are not many stops, but there is a vibrant tone -which thrills the ear. Tenderness indeed is the prevailing note, but in -one poem, “Africa,” there is a massiveness of structure, and a sonorous -dignity of measure which appeal powerfully to the imagination. The poems -have, here and there, an autobiographic value. One written in Rome, -shortly after the travellers had reached that city and the dream of -childhood had come true, ended with the verses:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“And Rome lay all before us in its glory,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its glory and its beautiful decay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, like the student in the oft-read story,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I could have turned away,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“To the still chamber with its half-closed shutter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the beloved father lay in pain,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_360" id="page_360">{360}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sit beside him in contentment utter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Never to part again.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">There are four sonnets in which her love for her husband glows with a -deep, steady passion, one of them written doubtless in the solemn days -near the end, in the spirit recorded by Lowell when he wrote to Briggs -after her death: “She promised to be with me if that were possible.”</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“In the deep flushing of the Western sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The new moon stands as she would fain be gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, dropping earthward, greet Endymion:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If Death uplift me, even thus should I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Companioned by the silver spirits high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stationed on the sunset’s crimson towers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bend longing over earth’s broad stretch of bowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To where my love beneath their shades might lie:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I should weary of the endless blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should weary of my ever-growing light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If that one soul, so beautiful and true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were hidden by earth’s vapors from my sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should wane and wane as changeful planets do,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And move on slowly, wrapt in mine own night.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>What most impresses the reader who takes all these poems at a sitting is -the reserve, the just balance of sentiment which controls them. Passion -is here, but it is not stormy, and love and tenderness, but they are not -feeble and tearful. Depth of feeling and strength of character lie open -to view in the firm lines, and the fine light and shade of the verse -come incontrovertibly from a nature evenly poised, whose companionship -must have been to Lowell that of a kindred spirit, capable indeed of -guiding and not merely of seconding his resolves.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 366px;"> -<a name="MARIA" id="MARIA"></a> -<a href="images/i_360_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_360_sml.jpg" width="366" height="500" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p class="c"><i>Mrs. Maria White Lowell</i></p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_361" id="page_361">{361}</a></span></p> - -<p>The frontispiece to the volume, which is here reproduced, was a -crystallotype of a drawing by Cheney after Page’s portrait. “It is -like,” Lowell wrote at the time, “as far as there can be any likeness -made of a face so full of spiritual beauty, and in which so much of the -charm was subterficial.” He tried to convey to a friend, with whom his -association was purely literary, some notion of her when he wrote: “All -that was written of Lady Digby, all that Taylor said of the Countess of -Carbery and Donne of Elizabeth Drury—belongs as well to her, she was so -beautiful and good. She was born 8th July, 1821, married 26th December, -1844, and went home 27th October, 1853. ‘The Pilgrim they laid in a -large upper chamber whose windows opened toward the sunrising: and the -name of the chamber was Peace.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>This was written more than a year after the event. He made use of the -same allusion just after his wife’s death, when writing to his friend -Briggs, but added mournfully that he himself was not in that chamber. -Indeed, in the first months of his desolation he was in a most unhappy -state, and endured a loneliness from which now and then an -uncontrollably passionate cry would be uttered. His father was perfectly -deaf and often alarmingly excitable, and his sister Rebecca eccentric to -a degree which made her preserve for days an absolute silence. He would -rush out into the world, and there showed an artificial gayety which -bewildered his friends, only to come back to despise himself. “I know -perfectly well,” he wrote to his most inti<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_362" id="page_362">{362}</a></span>mate friend, “that my nature -is naturally joyous and susceptible of all happy impressions; but that -is the very reason I am wretched. I am afraid of myself. I dread the -world and its temptations, for I do long to keep myself pure enough to -satisfy her who was better than all I can say of her. I often troubled -her while she was here, but I cannot bear to now that she is in entire -felicity.” He was, as he afterward said of himself, in great agony of -mind, and he had to force himself into those laborious hours which one -instinctively feels contain a wise restorative.</p> - -<p>He was, in a measure, undergoing solitary confinement. He sat in his -lonely study, or walked up and down, pencilling sentences on the wall as -if he were really a prisoner, and finding a strange consolation in -repeating the Service for the Dead, which he had learned by heart. “I -remember,” he wrote long after,<a name="FNanchor_99_99" id="FNanchor_99_99"></a><a href="#Footnote_99_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a> “the ugly fancy I had sometimes that -I was another person, and used to hesitate at the door when I came back -from my late night walks, lest I should find the real owner of the room -sitting in my chair before the fire. A well-nigh hermit life I had led -till then.” There were but few who could approach his real self in those -days, but there came from Longfellow a gentle word of consolation in his -poem “The Two Angels,” written on the coincidence of the birth of his -own daughter and the death of Mrs. Lowell.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, his letters, even when disclosing his misery, contained happy -references to his sturdy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_363" id="page_363">{363}</a></span> affectionate child. True, all the losses he -had suffered seemed now to be but the messengers of a final disaster. “I -have only one lamb left of four,” he wrote to an occasional -correspondent, “and think I hear the foot of the inexorable wolf if a -leaf rustle;” but as the days went by this sensitiveness subsided. He -was fortunate in having for her a most admirable governess, and he found -the child’s companionship an unfailing joy. “I said as I sat down to -dinner,” he writes in one of his letters; “<span class="lftspc">‘</span>This is a rare day, I have -positively had an idea.’ Not knowing the meaning of ‘idea,’ and I being -in the habit of telling her (when she is <i>hypt</i>, no rare thing) that she -has some disease to which I give a very hard name,—she thought I was -joking, and said, ‘Nonsense, papa, you haven’t got an idea,’—evidently -thinking it some terrible complaint. ‘Why, shouldn’t you like a papa -that had ideas?’ She threw her arms round my neck and said: ‘You dear -papa! you’re just the kind of papa that I love!’<span class="lftspc">”</span> “Mabel,” he writes -again, “has just begun to have ‘Robinson Crusoe’ read to her. Think of -that and burst with envy! What have you and I left in life like that? -She has already arranged a coronet of feathers, and proposes to play -Indian Chief in future. Her great part lately has been the Great Wild -Goat of the Parlor,—produced every evening with unbounded applause, -especially from the chief actor. With a pair of newspaper horns she -chases her father (who knows what it is to be tossed on the horns of the -newspapers), qualifying his too exces<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_364" id="page_364">{364}</a></span>sive terrors with a kiss at last -to show that it is really not <i>real</i>, but only play.... She has been in -the habit of hearing her grandfather always say, ‘If Providence permit,’ -of course not knowing what it meant. But one day, having made an -uncommonly successful slide, she turned triumphantly to her aunt and -cried, ‘There, <i>that</i> time I went like Providence permit.’ The doctor -ordered her a blanket bath. She had already tried one and said, ‘If you -please, papa, I had rather not.’ ‘But, darling, most people like them -very much.’ ‘Well, papa, <i>I</i> don’t; people have different tastes you -know. I’ve often noticed that everybody has a different mind.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>Added to the need of wresting his mind from the despondency of grief was -the pecuniary pressure. He had an income at this time from such little -property as he possessed of six hundred dollars a year, and that plainly -would not suffice. So he shook his portfolio, and even began writing new -poems which he sent to his friend Briggs for <i>Putnam’s</i>, and he set -about working over the letters he had written in Italy, publishing them -in <i>Graham’s Magazine</i>, under the title “Leaves from my Italian -Journal.” It was easier to do such mechanical work as this, and he began -to speculate on the possibility of editing Shakespeare, and meditated a -life of Dean Swift. He did during 1854 edit Marvell for the series of -<i>British Poets</i> which his friend Professor Child was preparing for -Little, Brown & Co., expending a good deal of loving care on the text, -and editing Henry Rogers’s brief me<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_365" id="page_365">{365}</a></span>moir by omissions, illustrations -from Marvell’s writings, and a slight addition. He wrote also at this -time, for use in the same series, the brief sketch of Keats which -afterward he placed with his collected essays. As an introduction to -Keats’s poems, it was designedly more biographical than critical, and -did little more than set forth in a lively fashion the facts gathered by -Milnes. When one considers Lowell’s early appreciation of Keats, it -seems a little singular that he should have contented himself with so -slight an expression.</p> - -<p>Lowell spent the last week of June, 1854, at Newport, R. I., on a visit -to the Nortons, and then went for the summer to Beverly, chiefly to be -near his sister, Mrs. Charles Lowell. At this time the north shore of -Massachusetts Bay had all the charm of rock and beach which it now has, -with a pristine simplicity of life which it has lost. To-day the visitor -drives through the woods near Beverly by well-kept roads, meeting at -every turn other carriages and pleasure parties. Then, the woods were as -beautiful, but had unbroken solitude. “At Newport,” Lowell wrote to Miss -Norton, “you have no woods, and ours are so grand and deep and -unconverted! They have those long pauses of conscious silence that are -so fine, as if the spirit that inhabits them were hiding from you and -holding its breath,—and then all the leaves stir again, and the pines -cheat the rocks with their mock surf, and that invisible bird that -haunts such solitudes calls once and is answered, and then silence -again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_366" id="page_366">{366}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>A letter to Mr. Norton, dated 14 August, 1854, hints at the restful -character of this seaside sojourn. “This is an outlying dependency of -the Castle of Indolence, and even more lazy,—in proportion as the -circulation is more languid at the extremities. By dint of counting on -my fingers, and with the aid of an old newspaper and an almanac, I have -approximated, I believe, to the true date of your world out there, and -that seems to me quite a sufficient mental achievement for one morning. -The chief food of the people here is Lotus. It is cunning to take -various shapes,—sometimes fish, sometimes flesh, fowl, eggs, or what -not,—but is always Lotus. It does not make us forget, only Memory is no -longer recollection, it is passive, not active, and mixes real with -feigned things, just as in perfectly still pools the images of clouds -filter down through the transparent water and make one perspective with -the matter-of-fact weeds at the bottom. I feel as if I had sunk in a -diving-bell provisioned and aired for three months, and knew not of -storm or calm, or of the great keels, loaded, perhaps, with fate, that -sigh hoarsely overhead toward their appointed haven....</p> - -<p>“What do I do? Tarry at Jericho chiefly. Also I row and fish, and have -learned to understand the life of a shore fisherman thoroughly. -Sometimes I get my dinner with my lines,—a rare fate for a poet. -Sometimes I watch the <i>net</i> result when the tritons draw their seine. -Also I grow brown, and have twice lost and renewed the skin of my hands -and, alas, my nose, Also I know<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_367" id="page_367">{367}</a></span> what hunger is and, reversing the -Wordsworthian sheep, am one feeding like forty.”</p> - -<p>He went on one or two short cruises and enjoyed the genuine country life -with its salt flavor, but was back at Elmwood in the fall. The year had -found some intimate expression in his verse, as well as the more -objective poems like “Pictures from Appledore,” suggested in part it may -be by one of his summer cruises, though the last section was written -four years before. Mr. Stillman, who made his acquaintance at this time, -when he was foraging for <i>The Crayon</i>, the new literary and art journal -which his enthusiasm had projected, speaks warmly of the princely -courtesy with which Lowell received him. “Out of the depth of the shadow -over his life,” he writes,<a name="FNanchor_100_100" id="FNanchor_100_100"></a><a href="#Footnote_100_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a> “in the solitude of his study, with -nothing but associations of his wrecked happiness permitted around him, -the kindly sympathy with a new aspiration wakened him to a momentary -gaiety, his humor flashed out irrepressible, and his large heart turned -its warmest side to the new friend, who came only to make new calls on -his benevolence; that is, to give him another opportunity to bestow -himself on others.” On his part, Lowell welcomed heartily this ingenuous -lover of art and letters. They took long walks together over the country -Lowell knew so well, to Beaver Brook, the Waverley Oaks, and the Waltham -hills. “You made me fifteen years younger,” he wrote, “while you stayed. -When a man gets to my age,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_368" id="page_368">{368}</a></span> enthusiasms don’t often knock at the door of -his garret. I am all the more charmed with them when they come. A youth -full of such pure intensity of hope and faith and purpose, what is he -but the breath of a resurrection-trumpet to stiffened old fellows, -bidding us up out of our clay and earth if we would not be too late?”</p> - -<p>The poems which register the tranquillity of a return to common life, -like “The Windharp” and “Auf Wiedersehen,” are tremulous with the -emotion which he could bear to express. Indeed, when Lowell came to -print the former of these poems he omitted one stanza, possibly as going -farther than he cared to with his contemporaneous public. In the letter -last quoted, he sent it to Mr. Stillman.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“O tress that so oft on my heart hath lain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rocked to rest within rest by its thankful beating,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Say, which is harder,—to bear the pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of laughter and light, or to wait in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Neath the unleaved tree, the impossible meeting?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If Death’s lips be icy, Life gives, iwis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some kisses more clay-cold and darkening than his!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">But as a comprehensive record of this whole experience, the “Ode to -Happiness” written at this time may be taken as most conclusive. The -very form of the ode, a form to which Lowell was wont to resort in the -great passages of his life, aided the expression, for its gravity, its -classic reserve, even its labored lines served best to hold that -sustained mood which impelled the poet to stand as it were before an -altar and make his sacrificial hymn. Tranquillity, he avers, is the -elder sister of Happiness. “She is not that,” he says:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_369" id="page_369">{369}</a></span>—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“She is not that for which youth hoped,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But she hath blessings all her own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thoughts pure as lilies newly oped,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And faith to sorrow given alone:<br /></span> -<span class="i6dt">. . . . . . . .<br /></span> -<span class="i11">‘I am she<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom the gods love, Tranquillity:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That other whom you seek forlorn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Half earthly was: but I am born<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the immortals, and our race<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wears still some sadness on its face:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He wins me late, but keeps me long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, dowered with every gift of passion,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that fierce flame can forge and fashion<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of sin and self the anchor strong;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can thence compel the driving force<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of daily life’s mechanic course,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor less the nobler energies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of needful toil and culture wise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose soul is worth the tempter’s lure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who can renounce, and yet endure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To him I come, not lightly wooed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But won by silent fortitude.’<span class="lftspc">”</span><a name="FNanchor_101_101" id="FNanchor_101_101"></a><a href="#Footnote_101_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>From this time forward, however he might be subject to transient moods, -as one with so much sensibility would inevitably be, Lowell was yet free -from the violent and tempestuous fluctuations of mood which heretofore -had marked his course. The first desolation over, that influence which -during Mrs. Lowell’s lifetime had always been accompanied by the dark -shadow of a threatened loss, now became, paradoxical as the phrase may -be, permanent and profound. No human accident could affect it, and as -Lowell’s own powers had passed through the experimental stage, there -came<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_370" id="page_370">{370}</a></span> a steadiness of aim and a maturity of expression which thenceforth -were registered in successive sure and firm-footed performances. It may -truly be said that Lowell had now found himself, and that from this -period dates the full orbit of a course which had heretofore been more -or less eccentric, but now could be reasonably calculated. Surprises -there were to be, but surprises of excellent achievement, rather than of -new ventures.</p> - -<p>It is therefore with special interest that one notes the character of -the work which occupied Lowell in this eventful season of 1854-1855. -Some time before he had been asked by his kinsman who directed the -Lowell Institute to give a course of lectures before it, and had been -paid in advance; he had made some movement toward preparation, but now -he set about it in earnest, and began the delivery 9 January, 1855. -There were to be twelve lectures, and he was to discourse on poetry in -general and English poetry in particular. Something of the exhilaration -with which he entered upon the engagement may be seen in a note written -to Mr. Norton three days before the first lecture, and inclosing a -ticket to the course.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“This will admit you to one of the <i>posti distinti</i> to witness the -celebrated <i>tableau vivant</i> of the sacrifice of Iphigenia -(Iphigenia, by particular request, Mr. J. R. Lowell). It is well -known that this interesting ceremony was originally performed for -the sake of raising the wind, and Mr. L. will communicate a spirit -of classic reality to the performance by going through it with the -same end in view.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_371" id="page_371">{371}</a></span></p> - -<p>“I write this by the hand of an amanuensis whom I have had in my -employment for some time, and who has learned how to catch my ideas -without my being obliged to speak—a great gain.</p> - -<p>“(A great gain indeed! the greatest bore in the world! He thinks I -am writing what he dictates at this moment because he hears the pen -scratch. He pretends to be a good-natured fellow—but if you only -knew him as I do! He has no more feeling than a horseradish.)</p> - -<p>“I should have come last Saturday to Shady Hill—but you may guess -how busy I have been. (It is <i>I</i> who have had all the work, and -only my board and tobacco for wages: <i>he</i> pretend to hate slavery!)</p> - -<p>“I have only just got the flood on, and feel as if I might deliver -a course that will not disgrace me.</p> - -<p>“(I almost hope they will, for what right has he to keep me shut up -here? I get no walks, and he begins to keep me awake at nights with -his cursed ideas as he calls them. What <i>is</i> an idea, I should like -to know?)</p> - -<p>“I have only one <i>private</i> entrance ticket to spare—but I suppose -you do not want any more.</p> - -<p>Give my best regards and happy New Years and all kinds of things at -Shady Hill (and mine, too; how mad he’d be if he knew I put that -in).</p> - -<p class="c"> -“Always yours,<br /> -“The Amanuensis of J. R. Lowell, esquire.”<br /> -</p></div> - -<p>Two days after giving the first lecture, Lowell wrote to Stillman:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_372" id="page_372">{372}</a></span>—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“I have been so fearfully busy with my lectures! and so nervous -about them, too! I had never spoken in public, there was a great -rush for tickets (the lectures are gratis), only one in five of the -applicants being supplied—and altogether I was taken quite aback. -I had no idea there would be such a desire to hear me. I delivered -my first lecture to a crowded hall on Tuesday night, and I believe -I have succeeded. The lecture was somewhat abstract, but I kept the -audience perfectly still for an hour and a quarter. (They are in -the habit of going out at the end of the hour.) I delivered it -again yesterday afternoon to another crowd,<a name="FNanchor_102_102" id="FNanchor_102_102"></a><a href="#Footnote_102_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a> and was equally -successful—so I think I am safe now. But I have six yet to write, -and am consequently very busy and pressed for time. I felt anxious, -of course, for I had a double responsibility. The lectures were -founded by a cousin of mine, and the trustee is another cousin—so -I wished not only to do credit to myself and my name, but to -justify my relative in appointing me to lecture. It is all over -now—and, as far as the public are concerned, I have succeeded; but -the lectures keep me awake and make me lean.” </p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_373" id="page_373">{373}</a></span></p> - -<p>Mr. Longfellow was a very interested auditor, and his diary bears -witness to the attention which he gave to the course:—</p> - -<p>“January 8, 1855. Lowell came in the evening and we talked about his -lectures on poetry which begin to-morrow.</p> - -<p>“January 9. Mr. Richard Grant White, of New York, author of -‘Shakespeare’s Scholar,’ came to tea. He drove in with us to hear -Lowell’s first lecture: an admirable performance, and a crowded -audience. After it, we drove out to Norton’s, where, with T. and the -lecturer, we had a pleasant supper.</p> - -<p>“January 20. Lowell’s lecture, on the old English ballads, one of the -best of the course.”</p> - -<p>Charles Sumner appears also to have been one of the auditors. At any -rate, he wrote to Longfellow from Washington, 6 February, 1855: -“Lowell’s lecture on Milton lifted me for a whole day. It was the -utterance of genius in honor of genius.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Fields asked Lowell for the lectures for publication, but he put him -off “till they were better,” and never published them. They were -reported at the time by Lowell’s old friend, Robert Carter, in the -<i>Boston Daily Advertiser</i>, and some time after Lowell’s death these -reports were gathered into a volume and printed privately for the -Rowfant Club of Cleveland, Ohio.</p> - -<p>The form in which the lectures were reported, sometimes direct, -sometimes indirect, undoubtedly robs them of some of the charm which the -hearers acknowledged, but enough remains to give one a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_374" id="page_374">{374}</a></span> tolerably clear -impression of Lowell’s mode of treatment. The first lecture was occupied -with definitions, and in a familiar way Lowell set about distinguishing -poetry from prose, and by a variety of illustrations gave some notion of -the great operations of the imagination. Having cleared the way, he took -up the consideration of English poetry in the historical order, dealing -with the forerunners, Piers Ploughman’s Vision, the Metrical Romances, -and the Ballads; and then devoting one lecture each to Chaucer, Spenser, -Milton, Butler, and Pope. The discussion of Pope led him to interrupt -himself, and in the next lecture take up the subject of Poetic Diction, -for after expressing his admiration of the consummate art of Pope’s -artificiality, he wished to inquire whether there might not be a real, -vital distinction between the language of prose raised to a high degree -of metrical efficiency and the language of poetry. His readers will -recall the amusing passage in an article on “Swinburne’s Tragedies,” in -which, when wishing to illustrate the Greek battledoor and shuttlecock -style of dialogue, he finds it easier to make a burlesque imitation than -to hunt up some passage in Sophocles. In like manner he invents a piece -of descriptive verse—a Lapland sketch—as an instance of the artificial -manner brought in by Pope, but lacking his wonderful manipulation of -language. It is a felicitous example of Lowell’s imitative faculty, -which led him, when he began to write, to throw off lines in Burns’s -manner, but which never betrayed him when he was in earnest<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_375" id="page_375">{375}</a></span> in poetry. -The imitation was in itself a criticism. He liked to emphasize the -essential element of poetry by instancing the empty form. Mr. Dante -Rossetti once overpowered me by producing a thin volume of verse by T. -H. Chivers, M. D., and reading aloud from it and demanding information -about the author. When I applied to Lowell afterward, he said that Dr. -Chivers had been wont to send him his books, and he read them aloud to -his classes as illustrations of the shell of Shelley. A lecture followed -on Wordsworth, and then the twelfth was devoted to the Function of the -Poet, which in its brief report intimates that Lowell was thinking less -of himself than of the country with its need of a seer.</p> - -<p>The delivery of the lectures had one immediate and important result. Mr. -Longfellow had been Smith Professor of the French and Spanish Languages -and Literatures and Professor of Belles Lettres in Harvard College since -1836, having come to the work when Lowell was midway through his course, -but he made up his mind in 1854 that he must give up the post, not from -ill-health, but because he wished to try the effect of change on his -mind, and of freedom from routine. “Household occupations,” he wrote to -Freiligrath, “children, relatives, friends, strangers, and college -lectures, so completely fill up my days that I have no time for poetry, -and, consequently, the last two years have been very unproductive with -me.” Freiligrath had heard rumors of Longfellow’s resignation, and had -put in an application to be his successor. Long<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_376" id="page_376">{376}</a></span>fellow could not give -him any encouragement, since, though foreigners were employed to teach -the several languages, the professor himself must be an American. There -were, he said, six candidates for the position, all friends of his. -Lowell was not one of these, but his lectures had marked him as the fit -successor, and so Longfellow wrote with satisfaction in his diary, 31 -January, 1855: “Lowell is to be my successor! Dr. Walker talked with me -about it this morning, and I have been to see Lowell about the -preliminaries, and the matter is as good as settled. I am sorry for some -of my friends who want the place. But for lectures, I think Lowell the -best of the candidates. He has won his spurs and will give the college -just what it needs.” Lowell himself told the news to his friend Briggs -in the following letter, dated 9 February, 1855:—</p> - -<p>“I have been silent ever so long because I could not help it. I have -been lecturing four times a week (and am now), and, with my usual -discretion, put off writing my lectures till the last moment, so that -for five weeks I have been with the bayonet pricking me on close behind, -and have hardly dared to <i>think</i> even of anything else. But I have not -forgotten you, my dear old friend, nor my love of you, and I have felt a -kind of pang now and then because I said in my last note that I would -soon write to you—as, indeed, I am always intending to do.</p> - -<p>“I write now because I have something pleasant to tell, and did not wish -you to hear it first from any one but me—though you always seem to -live<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_377" id="page_377">{377}</a></span> at one end of an ear of Dionysius that brings you all the news of -itself. The news is this: The Corporation of the college have asked me -to take Longfellow’s place, and my nomination will go to the Overseers -next Thursday.</p> - -<p>“The thing has come about in the pleasantest way, and the place has -sought me, not I, it. There were seven applicants for the place, but I -was not one of them. On the contrary, I had refused to be a candidate -when it was proposed to me.</p> - -<p>“I have accepted the offer, and am to go abroad for a year to prepare -myself. <i>That</i> is the hardest part, but I did not feel competent without -it.</p> - -<p>“And the duties are pleasant. I am not to have anything to do with -teaching, as Longfellow had, but only to deliver two courses of lectures -in the year—on pretty much any subject I choose, and my salary is to be -$1200.00.</p> - -<p>“Everybody seems pleased. My first thought was a sad one, for the heart -that would have beat warmest is still. Then I thought of my father, and -then of you. I think it will be all the better for Mabel that I should -have enough to live on, without being forced to write, and I shall have -time enough after the first year to do pretty much what I like....</p> - -<p>“My lectures have succeeded quite beyond my expectation. One or two have -been pretty good, but I have felt sad in writing them, and somehow feel -as if I had not got <i>myself</i> into them very much. However, folks are -pleased.”</p> - -<p>Very likely the fame of his lectures brought him<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_378" id="page_378">{378}</a></span> invitations to go -elsewhere; at any rate, when his course in Boston was finished, he made -a tour in the West, and became so desperately out of conceit with the -business before a week had passed that he tried to escape the remaining -lectures, but he was not released and had at least the satisfaction of -carrying home six hundred dollars as the proceeds. “I hate this business -of lecturing,” he wrote from Madison, Wisconsin, to Miss Norton. “To be -received at a bad inn by a solemn committee, in a room with a stove that -smokes but not exhilarates, to have three cold fish-tails laid in your -hand to shake, to be carried to a cold lecture-room, to read a cold -lecture to a cold audience, to be carried back to your smoke-side, paid, -and the three fish-tails again—well, it is not delightful exactly.”</p> - -<p>Lowell does not seem to have written anything in the short time that -elapsed after the close of his lecture tour before he sailed for Europe, -though he showed a lively interest in Mr. Stillman’s paper <i>The Crayon</i>, -and sent it his poem “Invita Minerva,” in which Longfellow discovered a -reminder of Emerson’s “Forerunners.” The fact that Lowell was to be the -elder poet’s successor naturally drew them together much at this time. -“A beautiful morning,” wrote Longfellow on the 17th of May. “Went and -sat an hour with Lowell in his upper chamber among the treetops. He -sails for Havre the first of June; “and on the 29th he records: -“Lowell’s friends gave him a farewell dinner at the Revere, whereat I -had the honor of presiding. A joyous banquet: one of the plea<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_379" id="page_379">{379}</a></span>santest I -ever attended,—a meeting of friends to take leave of a friend whom we -all love.” Lowell himself refers briefly to the occasion in a note -written the next day: “Everything went off finely after you left. Holmes -sang another song and repeated some very charming verses,<a name="FNanchor_103_103" id="FNanchor_103_103"></a><a href="#Footnote_103_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a> and -Rölker to his own intense delight got through two stanzas of ‘a helf to -ve nortward boun’,’ William White having incautiously supplied him with -the initial line. He gave it with so much sentiment that we were all -entirely overcome and laughed so immoderately that the brave Rölker at -length sat down. We sang ‘Auld lang syne’ in true college style and so -parted. On the whole I renewed my youth last night—and my recollections -of ‘1790’ this morning, for I only had four hours’ sleep. However, -aboard ship I shall have leisure enough to emulate Chaucer’s Morpheus</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘That slept and did no other work.’<span class="lftspc">”</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">That day Longfellow drove into town with Lowell and saw him off for New -York, whence he was to sail.</p> - -<p>But the weeks before Lowell’s departure brought other things to mind -than leaving home and affectionate friends. He had been asked to -pronounce a poem before the senior class of Hamilton College at the -coming commencement. The invitation reached him on the memorable day -when the runaway slave Burns was captured in the streets<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_380" id="page_380">{380}</a></span> of Boston, and -he wrote in reply to the invitation: “In six months I shall be in -Switzerland; an ocean between me and a slave hunt, thank God!”</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>Lowell again took passage in a sailing vessel, the St. Nicholas, -Bragdon, master, which left New York 4 June, 1855, bound for Havre. -Among his companions was Dr. Elliott, under whose care he had been a -dozen years before, when his eyes were in a bad way. It was a four -weeks’ voyage, and Lowell amused himself with Lever’s novels from -beginning to end, as he lay stretched in a hammock on the quarter-deck. -Reaching France, he spent three weeks in Paris among the pictures -chiefly, and made an excursion to Chartres, apparently his first visit, -but one which left so deep an impression on his mind that fourteen years -later, when he wrote “The Cathedral,” which he wished at first to call -“A Day at Chartres,” the same images which sprang to his mind when he -wrote of his visit directly after in a letter to Mr. Norton, recurred -and found poetic expression. “It is the home now,” he wrote, “of -innumerable swallows and sparrows, who build upon the shoulders of those -old great ones (the stone angels and saints)—as we little folks do too, -I am afraid. Even here I found the Norman—for when I mounted to the -spire, I saw numbers of hawks who dwell in the higher parts, as in their -castles, and prey on the poor Saxons below.” So in the poem he takes a -parting look</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“At those old weather-pitted images<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of by-gone struggle, now so sternly calm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_381" id="page_381">{381}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">About their shoulders sparrows had built nests,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fluttered, chirping, from gray perch to perch,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now on a mitre poising, now a crown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Irreverently happy. While I thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How confident they were, what careless hearts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flew on those lightsome wings and shared the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A larger shadow crossed; and looking up<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw where, nesting in the hoary towers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sparrow-hawk slid forth on noiseless air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sidelong head that watched the joy below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grim Norman baron o’er this clan of Kelts.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>From Paris Lowell ran over to London, chiefly to see the Storys, who -were there, and renewed his acquaintance with Thackeray and the -Brownings, and fell in with Leigh Hunt. But his main business was to -make himself proficient in German, and so having taken his academic -vacation in advance, he journeyed through the Low Countries, and settled -himself in Dresden for the autumn and winter. The quiet Saxon city was a -favorite resort for Americans then even more than now, and for the first -few weeks his sister, Mrs. Putnam, was there with her family. It was -with a dull, heavy feeling that he gave himself to his tasks, seeing -very little of society. “I confess frankly,” he wrote, shortly after his -establishment there, “that I am good for nothing, and have been for some -time, and that there are times almost every day when I wish to die, be -out of the world once for all.... I fear I shall come back with my -eremitical tendencies more developed than ever.” But dogged persistence -in work was something better than an anodyne, and work hard he did. “A -man of my age,” he wrote to his father, “has to study very hard in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_382" id="page_382">{382}</a></span> -acquiring a new language, and I cannot be satisfied without knowing -thoroughly all I undertake to know. I am very well and constantly busy.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Norton with his sisters crossed the Atlantic in the autumn, and -Lowell wrote to him at Paris: “Did I tell you that I had a room on the -ground floor, with a glass door giving upon a large garden? that I have -a flock of sparrows that come to breakfast with me every morning, and -eat loaf sugar to the detriment of my coffee? That I go to hear lectures -on the Natural Sciences and have even assisted at the anatomical -class,—beginning with horror and ending with interest? That we have the -best theatre here I ever saw? And by the way, if Bouffé acts the <i>Abbé -Galant</i> while you are in Paris, go and see it by all means. It is a -truly artistic piece of representation. If it be not too cold, go down -to Chartres. It is simply the best thing in France, and must have come -out of some fine old Norman brain,—I am sure no Frenchman could ever -have conceived it. After all, there are no such poets as the elements. -Leave a thing to them, and they redress all imperfections and expunge -all prose.”</p> - -<p>He had planned spending a portion of his time in Spain, and took lessons -in Spanish in Dresden, but finally abandoned the notion. His host and -hostess, with whom he talked, assured him that he made astonishing -progress in German. “What a language it is to be sure!” he wrote; “with -nominatives sending out as many roots as that witch-grass which is the -pest of all child-gardens, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_383" id="page_383">{383}</a></span> sentences in which one sets sail like an -admiral with sealed orders, not knowing, where the devil he is going to -till he is in mid-ocean!” To his friend Stillman he wrote, as the winter -wore away: “To say all in one word, I have been passing a very wretched -winter. I have been out of health and out of spirits, gnawed a great -part of the time by an insatiable homesickness, and deprived of my usual -means of ridding myself of bad thoughts by putting them into verse, for -I have always felt that I was here for the specific end of learning -German, and not of pleasing myself.” Fifteen years later, looking back, -he wrote: “I once spent a winter in Dresden, a southern climate compared -with England, and really almost lost my respect for the sun when I saw -him groping among the chimney-pots opposite my windows as he described -his impoverished arc in the sky.”<a name="FNanchor_104_104" id="FNanchor_104_104"></a><a href="#Footnote_104_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a></p> - -<p>As spring drew on he was possessed with a longing for Italy, especially -for the near friends who were there, his sister Mary who had left -Dresden for Rome, the Storys, the Nortons, and others. He turned his -face thitherward the first of March, meaning to be absent for two or -three weeks only, but he was not back in Dresden till the beginning of -June. “My journey in Italy,” he wrote to his father on his return, “was -of much benefit to me. I spent a fortnight with Mary in Rome, went with -her to Naples and spent another fortnight with her there. At Naples we -parted. I went to Sicily and made the tour of the island, hoping to -find<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_384" id="page_384">{384}</a></span> Mary still in Naples when I returned. But Sicily required much -more time than I had expected, and when I came back I found Mary gone -back to Rome. I could not follow her thither, but took the steamer to -Genoa, and so over the Alps back to Germany. I found Sicily very -interesting in scenery and associations, and very saddening in its -political aspect. I believe it is the worst governed country in Europe. -With every advantage of climate and soil, it is miserably poor,—there -are no roads, and vexatious restrictions repress trade in every -direction. The people struck me as looking more depressed than any I -have seen.”</p> - -<p>His itinerary, to be a little more detailed, was to Venice, then by rail -to Verona, and to Mantua. There he hired a vettura to take him to Parma, -and in the same mode he went to Bologna, sleeping at Modena on the way. -From Bologna he went to Ravenna and thence to Florence. He went to Siena -by the slow, roundabout rail, and then was driven to Orvieto by Chiusi. -At Orvieto he was greeted by Mr. Norton, Mr. Page, and Mr. John W. -Field, who had come out to meet him and to escort him to Rome. On his -return from Genoa he made a stop at Nuremberg. He lingered in Dresden a -few weeks, made another brief stay in Paris, and was once more in -Cambridge, in August, 1856.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>On his return from Europe Lowell did not resume life at Elmwood, but -took up his quarters with his brother-in-law, Dr. Estes Howe, on</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a name="DR" id="DR"></a> -<a href="images/i_384fp_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_384fp_sml.jpg" width="500" height="325" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p class="c"><i>House of Dr. Estes Howe</i></p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_385" id="page_385">{385}</a></span></p> - -<p>Kirkland Street, in Cambridge. Longfellow was in his summer home at -Nahant, and Lowell ran down to see him, looking, as the elder poet notes -in his diary, “as if he had not been gone a week.” He took renewed -delight in his country walks, and tingled afresh at contact with nature. -“How I do love the earth!” he writes to Mr. Norton, who was still in -Europe. “I feel it thrill under my feet. I feel somehow as if it were -conscious of my love, as if something passed into my dancing blood from -it, and I get rid of that duty-feeling,—‘What right have I to be?’—and -not a goldenrod of them all soaks in the sunshine or feels the blue -currents of the air eddy about him more thoughtlessly than I.”</p> - -<p>The college year opened a few weeks after his return, and he began his -duties by repeating the course of lectures which he had delivered before -the Lowell Institute the winter of 1855, before taking up his more -specific work in German literature and Dante.</p> - -<p>It was in the teaching of Dante that Lowell made the strongest -impression on the students who gathered about him, if we may judge by -the reminiscences which more than one has printed; and the methods he -adopted in his teaching never greatly varied, for he came to the work of -teaching without any specific training, when he had been nearly twenty -years out of college, and when the kind of interest in literature, which -in his college days had disputed for supremacy with the docile habit of -the schoolboy, had now become confirmed by study, by travel, and by his -own productions.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_386" id="page_386">{386}</a></span></p> - -<p>In an address which he gave in 1889 before the Modern Language -Association of America, he recorded his judgment on the vexed question -of the distribution of emphasis upon the philological and the æsthetic -pursuit of the study of literature. It was twelve years since he had -discontinued the practice of teaching, and it is reasonable to infer -that he was distilling in a few sentences the experience which his -method of study and his method of teaching recalled to him.</p> - -<p>“In reading such books,” he says, “as chiefly deserve to be read in any -foreign language, it is wise to translate consciously and in words as we -read. There is no such help to a fuller mastery of our vernacular. It -compels us to such a choosing and testing, to so nice a discrimination -of sound, propriety, position, and shade of meaning, that we now first -learn the secret of the words we have been using or misusing all our -lives, and are gradually made aware that to set forth even the plainest -matter as it should be set forth is not only a very difficult thing, -calling for thought and practice, but an affair of conscience as well. -Translating teaches us as nothing else can, not only that there is a -best way, but that it is the only way.”</p> - -<p>Again, in the same address, thinking no doubt of the expansion of the -curriculum at Harvard, even since he laid aside the teacher’s gown: “We -have every reason to congratulate ourselves on the progress the modern -languages have made as well in academic as in popular consideration. -They are now taught (as they could not formerly be taught)<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_387" id="page_387">{387}</a></span> in a way -that demands toil and thought of the student, as Greek and Latin, and -they only, used to be taught, and they also open the way to higher -intellectual joys, to pastures new, and not the worse for being so, as -Greek and Latin, and they only, used to do.... If I did not rejoice in -the wonderful advance made in the comparative philology of the modern -languages, I should not have the face to be standing here. But neither -should I if I shrank from saying what I believed to be the truth, -whether here or elsewhere. I think that the purely linguistic side in -the teaching of them seems in the way to get more than its fitting -share. I insist only that in our college courses this should be a -separate study, and that, good as it is in itself, it should, in the -scheme of general instruction, be restrained to its own function as the -guide to something better, and that something better is Literature. The -blossoms of language have certainly as much value as its roots, for if -the roots secrete food and thereby transmit life to the plant, yet the -joyous consummation of that life is in the blossoms, which alone bear -the seeds that distribute and renew it in other growths. Exercise is -good for the muscles of mind and to keep it well in hand for work, but -the true end of Culture is to give it play, a thing quite as needful. -What I would urge, therefore, is that no invidious distinction should be -made between the Old Learning and the New, but that students, due regard -being had to their temperaments and faculties, should be encouraged to -take the course in modern languages<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_388" id="page_388">{388}</a></span> as being quite as good in point of -mental discipline as any other, if pursued with the same thoroughness -and to the same end. And that end is Literature, for there language -first attains to a full consciousness of its powers and to the delighted -exercise of them. Literature has escaped that doom of Shinar which made -our Association possible, and still everywhere speaks in the universal -tongue of civilized man.”</p> - -<p>Lowell’s office did not require of him elementary instruction in modern -languages, nor indeed was it expected that he should do drill work in -linguistics. There were competent instructors then in the several -languages, some of whom afterward came to be eminent professors, as the -department was divided. He was not indifferent in the choice of -assistants, but once they were at work he left them to their own -devices, and exercised the slightest sort of supervision of them. There -was no very nice division of labor, except that, as I have said, these -assistants took the more exact grammatical details, yet they all -included more or less of literature in their work with students. It can -hardly be said that Lowell did more than flavor his instruction of -literature with a pinch of grammar. Words in their origin and changing -meanings he did comment on, but inflections, paradigms, and all the -apparatus of grammar formed no part of his interest in his work.</p> - -<p>In his essay on “Shakespeare Once More” he has said: “There would be no -dispute about the advantages of that Greek culture which Schiller<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_389" id="page_389">{389}</a></span> -advocated with such generous eloquence, if the great authors of -antiquity had not been degraded from teachers of thinking to drillers in -grammar, and made the ruthless pedagogues of root and inflection, -instead of companions for whose society the mind must put on her highest -mood.... There is much that is deciduous in books, but all that gives -them a title to rank as literature, in the highest sense, is perennial. -Their vitality is the vitality not of one or another blood or tongue, -but of human nature; their truth is not topical and transitory, but of -universal acceptation; and thus all great authors seem the coevals not -only of each other, but of whoever reads them, growing wiser with him as -he grows wise, and unlocking to him one secret after another as his own -life and experience give him the key, but on no other condition.”</p> - -<p>Now Lowell’s own interest in literature had been direct. It would be -idle to say that literature was interesting or valuable to him only so -far as it was a criticism of life. It would be equally idle to say that -his pleasure in it was derived only from his perception of it as great -art. He carried to it the same kind of interest which he carried into -his own production of literature. He was at once full of that human -sense which made him delight in a fine expression of humanity, and he -had the craftsman’s pleasure in excellent work, so that on the one hand, -though in his youth he raged against Pope, in his more mature judgment -he rejoiced in the patience in careful finish which characterized him:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_390" id="page_390">{390}</a></span> -and, on the other hand, he gave himself with the fullest abandonment to -an admiration of Dante as “the highest spiritual nature that has -expressed itself in rhythmical form.” He thought him “the first great -poet who ever made a poem wholly out of himself.” In one of his -unpublished lectures Lowell uses Dante as a text for a discourse on the -pursuit of literature, and mingles with it a slight element of -autobiography, which makes it specially fitting to repeat the passage -here:—</p> - -<p>“One is sometimes asked by young men to recommend to them a course of -reading. My advice would always be to confine yourself to the supreme -books in whatever literature; still better, to choose some one great -author and grow thoroughly familiar with him. For as all roads lead to -Rome, so they all likewise lead thence; and you will find that in order -to understand perfectly and weigh exactly any really vital piece of -literature, you will be gradually and pleasantly persuaded to studies -and explorations of which you little dreamed when you began, and will -find yourselves scholars before you are aware. If I may be allowed a -personal illustration, it was my own profound admiration for the ‘Divina -Commedia’ of Dante that lured me into what little learning I possess. -For remember that there is nothing less fruitful than scholarship for -the sake of mere scholarship, nor anything more wearisome in the -attainment. But the moment you have an object and a centre, attention is -quickened, the mother of memory; and whatever you acquire groups and -arranges itself in an order<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_391" id="page_391">{391}</a></span> which is lucid because it is everywhere in -intelligent relation to an object of constant and growing interest. -Thus, as respects Dante, I asked myself, What are his points of likeness -or unlikeness with the authors of classical antiquity? in how far is -either of these an advantage or defect? What and how much modern -literature had preceded him? How much was he indebted to it? How far had -the Italian language been subdued and suppled to the uses of poetry or -prose before his time? How much did he color the style or thought of the -authors who followed him? Is it a fault or a merit that he is so -thoroughly impregnated with the opinions, passions, and even prejudices -not only of his age but his country? Was he right or wrong in being a -Ghibelline? To what extent is a certain freedom of opinion which he -shows sometimes on points of religious doctrine to be attributed to the -humanizing influences of the Crusades in enlarging the horizon of the -Western mind by bringing it in contact with other races, religions, and -social arrangements? These and a hundred other such questions were -constant stimulants to thought and inquiry, stimulants such as no merely -objectless and, so to speak, impersonal study could have supplied.”</p> - -<p>When, therefore, Lowell was brought face to face with a company of young -men, in the relation of teacher, he appears not to have cast about to -see how he could adjust his powers to some prevailing method of -teaching, but to have used the material of literature as an instrument -of association, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_392" id="page_392">{392}</a></span> naturally, untrammelled by pedagogic theory, to -have tried to communicate to the minds about him the kind of interest -which the literature he was handling inspired in him. So far was he from -a professional teacher that it is doubtful if he individualized his -students much, or made any attempt to find entrance into this or that -mind by first trying to detect what opening the mind offered. -Undoubtedly, one or another with special aptitude or appreciation may -have stimulated him and quickened his faculty of instruction, but for -the most part these young men gave him the occasion for utterance, and -the text before him gave the theme of discourse. Mr. Barrett Wendell, in -his illuminating paper on Lowell as a teacher, confesses with a generous -chagrin, that though he had been an enthusiastic pupil and had used -Lowell’s hospitality fully, the acquaintance was very one-sided. He came -to know Lowell well, but Lowell when he met him again after no great -interval of time, had quite forgotten his face, and almost forgotten his -name.<a name="FNanchor_105_105" id="FNanchor_105_105"></a><a href="#Footnote_105_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a></p> - -<p>Though he could scarcely be said to have resorted to any set or -customary methods of a professional sort, he was not without recourse to -simple aids in his teaching. “Thirty odd years ago,” he wrote in -1889,<a name="FNanchor_106_106" id="FNanchor_106_106"></a><a href="#Footnote_106_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a> “I brought home with me from Nuremberg photographs of Peter -Fischer’s statu<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_393" id="page_393">{393}</a></span>ettes of the twelve apostles. These I used to show to my -pupils and ask for a guess at their size. The invariable answer was -‘larger than life.’ They were really about eighteen inches high, and -this grandiose effect was wrought by simplicity of treatment, dignity of -pose, a large unfretted sweep of drapery. This object lesson I found -more telling than much argument and exhortation.” He made also some -attempt, when the method was much more of a novelty than it is to-day, -to bring in the aid of illustration from art. He interested himself to -rid his class-room in University Hall of some dismal charts that hung on -the walls, and brought down from Elmwood a number of engravings and -photographs which he had collected in his travels abroad, especially -illustrations of Florence and Rome; one year he presented each of his -class who had persevered with a copy of the recently discovered portrait -of Dante by Giotto; and again he gave to each of his small class in -Dante a copy of Mr. Norton’s privately printed volume on the “New Life.”</p> - -<p>The actual exercise in the class-room was simple enough and -unconventional. The classes were not large, and the relation of the -teacher to his students was that of an older friend who knew in a large -way the author they were studying, and drew upon his own knowledge and -familiarity with the text for comment and suggestion, rather than -troubled himself much to find out how much his pupils knew. A student -would trudge blunderingly along some passage, and Lowell would break<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_394" id="page_394">{394}</a></span> -in, taking up the translation himself very likely, and quickly find some -suggestion for criticism, for elaboration or incidental and remote -comment. Toward the close of the hour, question and answer, or free -discussion yielded to the stream of personal reminiscence or abundant -reflection upon which Lowell would by this time be launched. Especially -would he recall scenes in Florence, sketch in words the effects of the -Arno, Giotto’s Tower, the church in which Dante was baptized, where he -himself had seen children held at the same font; and so Lowell gave out -of his treasures, using that form of literature which was perhaps the -most perfectly fitted to his mind, free, unconstrained talk. Suddenly, -glancing at his watch before him,—a time-piece which was as idly -whimsical as its owner,—he would stop, bow and walk quickly out of the -room, the men rising respectfully as he left.</p> - -<p>And the listeners? They went away, a few carelessly amused at the loose -scholastic exercise and complacent over the evasion of work, but some -stirred, quickened in their thought, and full of admiration for this -brilliant interpreter of life as seen through the verse of Dante. One -charm was in the unexpectedness of it all. There was no predicting what -direction his talk would take. “Now and again,” says Mr. Wendell, “some -word or some passage would suggest to him a line of thought—sometimes -very earnest, sometimes paradoxically comical—that it never would have -suggested to any one else; and he would lean back in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_395" id="page_395">{395}</a></span> his chair, and -talk away across country till he felt like stopping; or he would thrust -his hands into the pockets of his rather shabby sack-coat, and pace the -end of the room with his heavy laced boots, and look at nothing in -particular, and discourse of things in general.”</p> - -<p>The formalities of academic work were of little concern to Lowell. To be -sure, after the first year of neglect he yielded to Dr. Walker’s -persuasion, and attended Faculty meetings with commendable regularity, -and took his share in the little details of discipline which were -gravely discussed. It must have brought a smile to his mind, if not to -his face, when he found himself called upon to join in a public -admonition of ——, junior, “for wearing an illegal coat after repeated -warnings.” And examinations of his classes were wearisome functions. -“Perhaps,” says Mr. Wendell, “from unwillingness to degrade the text of -Dante to such use, Mr. Lowell set us, when we had read the Inferno and -part of the Purgatorio, a paper consisting of nothing but a long passage -from Massimo d’Azeglio, which we had three hours to translate. This task -we performed as best we might. Weeks passed, and no news came of our -marks. At last one of the class, who was not quite at ease concerning -his academic standing, ventured at the close of a recitation to ask if -Mr. Lowell had assigned him a mark. Mr. Lowell looked at the youth very -gravely, and inquired what he really thought his work deserved. The -student rather diffidently said that he hoped it was worth sixty<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_396" id="page_396">{396}</a></span> per -cent. ‘You may take it,’ said Mr. Lowell, ‘I don’t want the bother of -reading your book.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>Nevertheless, indifferent as he may have been to the customary details -of academic work, and not a little impatient of dry formalities, Lowell -gave to the college liberally of the best he had to give. Not merely did -he go through with his appointed tasks; he was always ready to take -additional labor on himself and to perform works of supererogation. He -had men come to read with him in his house, and one season at least -offered to conduct a group of divinity students through the Inferno. It -must be remembered, moreover, that Lowell’s instruction was of two -sorts, one in a special author or group, to small select classes, the -other general lectures upon literature to large classes. Something of -the character of his free handling of subjects may be seen in the -extracts from these lectures preserved in <i>The Harvard Crimson</i> in 1894; -and the attitude which he took toward this side of his work is recorded -in the introductory passage to a lecture on the Study of Literature.</p> - -<p>“I confess,” he says, “it is with more and more diffidence that I rise -every year to have my little talk with you about books and the men that -have written them. If I remember my terrestrial globe rightly, one gets -into his temperate zone after passing the parallel of forty, and arrives -at that, shall I call it, Sheltered Haven of Middle Age, when, in -proportion as one is more careful of the conclusions he arrives at, he -is less zealous in his desire that all mankind should agree with<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_397" id="page_397">{397}</a></span> him. -Moreover, the longer one studies, the more thoroughly does one persuade -himself that till he knows everything, he knows nothing—that after -twenty years of criticism, one is still a mere weigher and gauger: -skilled only to judge what he may chance to have been in the habit of -inspecting at his own little provincial custom-house. And as one gets -older he is apt to allow more for personal idiosyncrasy, and to have -less certainty that the truth he had reached is not a one-sided one, and -that there are not fifty others equally important, and (perhaps) equally -unsatisfactory. Every bait is not for every fish. We begin by admitting -the old doctor’s apothegm that Art is long; we gradually become -persuaded that it is like the Irishman’s rope, the other end of which -was cut off. So different is Art, whose concern is with the ideal and -potential, from Science, which is limited by the actual and positive. -Life is so short that it may be fairly doubted whether any man has a -right to talk an hour, and I have learned at least so much,—that I hope -less to teach than to suggest.”</p> - -<p>The tone of distrustfulness which is an undercurrent in this passage is -familiar enough to the conscientious teacher, and Lowell, measuring the -vastness of literature and his own inadequacy to press it home to his -students, was fearful that the outcome was slight in proportion to the -cost to himself. Yet he did not therefore spare himself. During the -years of his teaching, he was more than ever the scholar, taking -generous draughts of the literature he was to teach, for long stretches<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_398" id="page_398">{398}</a></span> -of time even engaged with his books twelve hours out of the twenty-four. -And so quickening was his imagination that he went to his classes not to -decant the wine of learning from bottles just filled, but to give them -of his own rare essence distilled from the hours of study. Hence he was -a strong and vivifying influence to the best men under him, and to all -he communicated something of that rich culture which is not easily -measured by lessons learned and recited. No one could listen to his -teaching, as has been well said, without becoming conscious that he was -listening to a man not less wise than accomplished and gifted.</p> - -<p>In this matter of teaching, as in all the other undertakings of his -life, Lowell kept no strict debit and credit account. He gave his -measure not according to the stipulated return, but freely, generously. -Especially did he overflow in friendliness. As he turned the lecture and -recitation hour into a <i>causerie</i>, and was careless in his exactions, so -he not only suffered but encouraged encroachment on his unprofessional -hours. At first in Kirkland Street, afterward at Elmwood, he made his -students welcome, and the only difference it may be between an hour in -University Hall and an hour by the wood fire at Elmwood, was in the -wider range of talk. It was here that his students came nearest to him, -for it was the men he quickened in the class-room who were avid of more -just such talk, and sought him in the greater intimacy of his study. -Yet, nearer as they came to him as he sat with his pipe in slippered -ease, and much as<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_399" id="page_399">{399}</a></span> they drew from him, it is doubtful if there was much -reciprocity in the intercourse. As a comparative stranger might draw -from Lowell one of his most delightful letters, if some question he sent -him happened to catch him at a favorable moment, when he needed only an -occasion for the letter that was on tap, so these students, one or more, -offered an easy audience, and Lowell, rarely out of the mood for talk, -would spin his gossamer or weave his strong fabric for them as well as -for any one else, without paying very close heed to them personally. In -fine, the twenty years of college work made little inroad on Lowell -himself. He was furnished with occupation, he was made comparatively -easy in his simple need of a livelihood, and for the rest his class-room -work offered a natural outlet for his abundant intellectual activity. He -grumbled sometimes over its demands on his time, but it is doubtful if -the reading world would have had very much more from him had he never -been subject to this demand. It is even quite possible that the work -kept him very much more alive than he might otherwise have been, saving -him from a species of intellectual luxury of an unproductive sort; it is -certain that the hours added thus to his other productive time were a -stimulus and inspiration to many men, and that as a practical matter the -work done for his classes in the way of direct preparation was the -foundation of a good deal of his published criticism.</p> - -<p>And yet it is not so certain that his mood for poetry was helped by his -academic life. He wrote<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_400" id="page_400">{400}</a></span> to Mr. Stillman 14 May, 1857: “While my -lectures are on my mind I am not myself, and I seem to see all the -poetry drying out of me. I droop on my rocks and hear the surge of the -living waters, but they will not reach me till some extraordinary -springtide, and maybe not then.” It is true, this expression must not be -pressed too hardly—it may have been only the mood of the moment; but it -is evident that the time of freedom in poetic composition had largely -passed for him; it returned once and again, as for instance in “Agassiz” -and the “Commemoration Ode,” it was compelled for him by the occasion -which drew out the second series of the “Biglow Papers,” but for the -most part his poetry after this date bears rather more the touch of -deliberation and less the abandon of his early enthusiasm. How far this -is to be referred to the circumstance of the constraint of academic -work, and how far to the change which came over his life in the passage -from ebullient youth to chastened manhood one would not care to say. But -the period of his next twenty years was the period of prose in his -production.</p> - -<p>The regular, punctual life which the daily college exercise demands came -as a steadying influence after the vagrancy and informality of the -previous years, and now there was added the gracious and helpful -presence of a self-contained, sympathetic, congenial woman. Mrs. Lowell, -before her death, had wished her daughter to be under the oversight of -an intimate friend, Miss Elizabeth Dunlap, but before the arrangements -could be com<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_401" id="page_401">{401}</a></span>pleted, Miss Dunlap died, and her sister Frances took the -place and had had charge of Mabel Lowell ever since her father had left -America for his year of study in Germany. He had thought himself most -fortunate in making the arrangement, and the friendly intercourse which -naturally sprang from this relation ripened steadily into affection. In -September, 1857, they were married, and now he was enabled to resume the -old life at Elmwood.</p> - -<p>One or two passages from letters written at this time by Lowell to Mr. -Norton give a glimpse of this new relation: “I have told you once or -twice that I should not be married again if I could help it. The time -has come when I cannot. A great many things (which I cannot write about) -have conspired to bring me to this resolution, and I rejoice in it, for -I feel already stronger and better, with an equability of mind that I -have not felt for years.”<a name="FNanchor_107_107" id="FNanchor_107_107"></a><a href="#Footnote_107_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a> “I was glad as I could be to get your -heartily sympathizing letter. I had taken a step of great import to my -life and character, and though I am careless of Mrs. Grundy’s sentiments -on the occasion, I do care intensely for the opinion of the few friends -whom I value. With its personal results to myself I am more than -satisfied, and I was convinced of the wisdom of what I was about to do -before I did it. I already begin to feel like my old self again in -health and spirits, and feel secure now, if I die, of leaving Mabel to -wise and loving government. So intimate an acquaintance as mine has been -with Miss Dunlap for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_402" id="page_402">{402}</a></span> nearly four years has made me know and love her, -and she certainly must know me well enough to be safe in committing her -happiness to my hands.... I went down last week to Portland to make the -acquaintance of her family, and like them, especially her mother, who is -a person of great character. They live in a little bit of a house in a -little bit of a street, behind the great house (the biggest in town) in -which they were brought up, and not one of them seemed conscious that -they were not welcoming me to a palace. There were no apologies for want -of room, no Dogberry hints at losses, nor anything of that kind, but all -was simple, ladylike, and hearty. A family of girls who expected to be -rich, and have had to support themselves and (I suspect) their mother in -part, are not likely to have any nonsense in them. I find Miss Dunlap’s -education very complete in having had the two great teachers, Wealth and -Poverty—one has taught not to value money, the other to be independent -of it.”<a name="FNanchor_108_108" id="FNanchor_108_108"></a><a href="#Footnote_108_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a> “I am more and more in love with Fanny, whose nature is so -delightfully cheerful that it is impossible for me to get into the dumps -even if I wished.”<a name="FNanchor_109_109" id="FNanchor_109_109"></a><a href="#Footnote_109_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a></p> - -<p>Mr. Stillman, a keen observer, has given a good estimate of Mrs. -Lowell’s nature in these words: “She was one of the rarest and most -sympathetic creatures I have ever known. She was the governess of -Lowell’s daughter, when I first went to stay at Elmwood, and I then felt -the charm of her character. She was a sincere Swedenborgian, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_403" id="page_403">{403}</a></span> the -serene faith and spiritual outlook I have generally found to be -characteristic of that sect; with a warmth of spiritual sympathy of -which I have known few so remarkable instances; a fine and subtle -faculty of appreciation, serious and tender, which was to Lowell like an -enfolding of the Divine Spirit. The only particular in which the -sympathy failed was in the feeling that she had in regard to his -humorous poems. She disliked the vein. It was not that she lacked humor -or the appreciation of his, but she thought that kind of literature -unworthy of him. This she said to me more than once. But, aside from -this, she fitted him like the air around him. He had felt the charm of -her character before he went to Europe, and had begun to bend to it; but -as he said to me after his marriage, he would make no sign till he had -tested by a prolonged absence the solidity of the feeling he had felt -growing up. He waited, therefore, till his visit to Germany had -satisfied him that it was sympathy, and not propinquity, that lay at the -root of his inclination for her, before declaring himself. No married -life could be more fortunate in all respects except one—they had no -children. But for all that his life required she was to him healing from -sorrow and a defence against all trouble, a very spring of life and -hope.”<a name="FNanchor_110_110" id="FNanchor_110_110"></a><a href="#Footnote_110_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a></p> - -<p>Mr. Howells also, who first knew her a decade later, has sketched her in -these lines: “She was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_404" id="page_404">{404}</a></span> a woman perfectly of the New England type and -tradition: almost repellently shy at first, and almost glacially cold -with new acquaintance, but afterward very sweet and cordial. She was of -a dark beauty, with a regular face of the Spanish outline; Lowell was of -an ideal manner toward her, and of an admiration which delicately -travestied itself and which she knew how to receive with smiling -irony.”<a name="FNanchor_111_111" id="FNanchor_111_111"></a><a href="#Footnote_111_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a> Mrs. Herrick, in an unpublished reminiscence, speaks of her -in similar terms: “She was a noble and beautiful woman eminently -practical in all the affairs of life. Commanding in presence, gracious -in her hospitality, highly cultured, and full of a keen appreciation of -every word of Mr. Lowell, and always charming and womanly.”</p> - -<p>Stillman’s tender sketch of Mrs. Lowell brings to mind that it was in -the summer of his marriage that Lowell joined this friend in a -reconnaissance of the Adirondacks which was followed by the formation of -the Adirondack Club, and the successive sojourns in the wilderness which -Emerson has enshrined in his poem “The Adirondacs,” and Stillman himself -has recorded delightfully in his Autobiography as well as in magazine -articles.<a name="FNanchor_112_112" id="FNanchor_112_112"></a><a href="#Footnote_112_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Ten men, ten guides, our company all told,”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">says Emerson, but his chronicle was of the next<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_405" id="page_405">{405}</a></span> year when the club was -fully organized, and Stillman, Emerson, Lowell, Jeffries Wyman, E. R. -Hoar, Dr. Howe, Binney, Woodman, Agassiz, and John Holmes, went into the -wilderness. In 1857, the tentative exploring party; led by Stillman, -consisted of John Holmes, Dr. Estes Howe, Lowell, and his two nephews, -Charles and James Lowell, forever immortalized in the passionate verse -of the second “Biglow Papers.” Lowell, who had known the near charms of -nature in the Waverley Oaks and Beaver Brook, and had tasted the wild -wood in his Maine excursion, entered with frolic delight into this -forest picnic. The conditions were such as to bring out the best that -was in him, for he had the freedom of the woods and the satisfaction of -congenial society. “He was the soul,” says Stillman, “of the merriment -of the company, fullest of witticisms, keenest in appreciation of the -liberty of the occasion and the <i>genius loci</i>.... Not even Emerson, with -all his indifference to the mere form of things, took to unimproved and -uncivilized nature as Lowell did, and his free delight in the Wilderness -was a thing to remember.” To these companions, quick to appreciate and -respond, Lowell, light-hearted with the new promise of happiness and set -free in his mind by the large privacy of the woods, brought the -treasures of his fancy, his wit, his imagination. He revelled especially -in recounting those visionary experiences which seemed all the more real -under the starry skies and in the companionship of trees and silent -forest creatures. Yet with it all, his in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_406" id="page_406">{406}</a></span>quisitive, searching mind, -quickened too by the presence of scientific and philosophic comrades, -was forever probing these phenomena to discover what was their ultimate -rationale.</p> - -<p>There can be little doubt that at this period of his life Lowell was -poised for flight, as it were, having reached a stage when all the -conditions were most favorable for the full expression of his powers. It -is true that his academic work, as I have said, did in a measure -supplant a freer poetic movement. But it may not unfairly be affirmed -that Lowell’s attitude toward poetry was always that of expectation of -some greater gift to come. His poems “Fancy’s Casuistry,” “In the -Twilight,” “To the Muse,” all written about this time, record with -iteration his restless pursuit of the elusive dream. His academic work -afforded indeed a daily outlet, but it could not satisfy the demand for -expression. Best of all, there was a pleasure-house in which he dwelt -with his wife and daughter, perfectly fitted to the contentment of his -spirit, and to furnishing that ease of mind which gives health of -nature. Stillman has in another passage drawn a picture which may well -be given here in evidence.</p> - -<p>“Lowell was indeed very happy in his married life, and amongst the -pictures Memory will keep on her tablet for me, till Death passes his -sponge over it once for all, is one of his wife lying in a long chair -under the trees at Dr. Howe’s, when the sun was getting cool, and -laughing with her low, musical laugh at a contest in punning between -Lowell<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_407" id="page_407">{407}</a></span> and myself, <i>haud passibus æquis</i>, but in which he found enough -to provoke his wit to activity; her almost Oriental eyes twinkling with -fun, half-closed and flashing from one to the other of us; her low, -sweet forehead, wide between the temples; mouth wreathing with humor; -and the whole frame, lithe and fragile, laughing with her eyes at his -extravagant and rollicking word-play. One would hardly have said that -she was a beautiful woman, but fascinating she was in the happiest sense -of the word, with all the fascination of pure and perfect womanhood and -perfect happiness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_408" id="page_408">{408}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /><br /> -<small>THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY</small><br /><br /> -<small>1857-1861</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Lowell</span> had not been a year in his professor’s chair when he was invited -to take another position more closely identified with literature and -having its own cares and drudgery. Under the present conditions of -magazine editorship and of college professorship as well, the union of -the two offices would be quite out of the question.<a name="FNanchor_113_113" id="FNanchor_113_113"></a><a href="#Footnote_113_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a> But the -condition in 1857 was different, and to install a professor in Harvard -College as editor of a new magazine was both natural and in a measure -traditional. I have already called attention to the effort made in 1853 -to establish a literary magazine, and to Lowell’s interest in the -venture. The person most concerned in that effort did not lose sight of -his project, and now pushed the matter through to a fortunate -conclusion.</p> - -<p>Mr. Francis Henry Underwood was in 1857 the literary adviser and reader -for the firm of Phillips & Sampson in Boston, and he was an ardent -admirer of Lowell. He was a strong advocate of anti-slavery doctrines, -and in his first proposals for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_409" id="page_409">{409}</a></span> a magazine in 1853 was working in -conjunction with the firm of John P. Jewett & Co., that had just sprung -into notice as publishers of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” The firm with which he -was now connected was active chiefly in the publication of cheap -editions of standard works in literature. It had a large Southern -constituency, and when “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” was offered to it in the form -of a scrap-book of clippings from <i>The National Era</i>, commercial -prudence dictated a polite refusal. When, however, Mrs. Stowe’s name had -become one of great value, it was easy for Phillips, Sampson & Co. to -publish, as they did, her “Sunny Memories” in 1854 and “Dred” in 1856.</p> - -<p>Mr. Moses Dresser Phillips had been brought up in the book trade and -knew it first as a bookseller. He was a man who had large business -energy and laid his plans for wide connections and not merely a local -trade. Mr. Charles Sampson, with whom he had formed his partnership, had -died about five years before, and his only partner at this time was Mr. -William Lee, well known for many years as the senior partner in the -publishing house of Lee & Shepard. He was nearer Mr. Underwood’s age and -it was chiefly with him that Mr. Underwood talked over his cherished -plan. It was through him, indeed, that Mr. Underwood expected to gain -over Mr. Phillips, who had the practical man’s distrust of new -enterprises suggested by authors, and a temperament which was calculated -to chill enthusiasm. Mr. Underwood had already won consent to engage in -the work from Lowell,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_410" id="page_410">{410}</a></span> Longfellow, Holmes, and others, and he -represented strongly to Mr. Lee the possibilities of a magazine which -should have at once a staff of writers of a character so eminent. I -suspect he kept in the background any purpose he might have of making -the magazine play a part in politics. Mr. Lee in turn at his daily lunch -with Mr. Phillips kept that gentleman in mind of the project, though he -was himself neither an advocate nor an opponent. He simply used Mr. -Underwood’s arguments, the most effective of which may have been the -prospect held up before Mr. Phillips of the association he should thus -form with a distinguished group.</p> - -<p>Mr. Phillips having been won over, the plans for the new magazine were -rapidly pushed forward. In all this Mr. Underwood was the active -manager, but Mr. Phillips as the head of the business now took the -leading place. At an early date, Tuesday, 5 May, 1857, he called -together the men on whom he most relied to give the enterprise -distinction, and gave them a dinner at the Parker House. Fortunately an -account of this meeting is in his own words in a letter to a niece:—</p> - -<p>“I must tell you about a little dinner party I gave about two weeks ago. -It would be proper, perhaps, to state that the origin of it was a desire -to confer with my literary friends on a somewhat extensive literary -project, the particulars of which I shall reserve until you come. But to -the party: my invitations included only R. W. Emerson,<a name="FNanchor_114_114" id="FNanchor_114_114"></a><a href="#Footnote_114_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> H.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_411" id="page_411">{411}</a></span> W. -Longfellow, J. R. Lowell, Mr. Motley (the ‘Dutch Republic’ man), O. W. -Holmes, Mr. Cabot,<a name="FNanchor_115_115" id="FNanchor_115_115"></a><a href="#Footnote_115_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a> and Mr. Underwood, our literary man. Imagine -your uncle as the head of such a table, with such guests. The above -named were the only ones invited, and they were all present. We sat down -at three <small>P.M.</small>, and rose at eight. The time occupied was longer by about -four hours and thirty minutes than I am in the habit of consuming in -that kind of occupation, but it was the richest time intellectually by -all odds that I have ever had. Leaving myself and ‘literary man’ out of -the group, I think you will agree with me that it would be difficult to -duplicate that number of such conceded scholarship in the whole country -beside.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Emerson took the first post of honor at my right, and Mr. -Longfellow the second at my left. The exact arrangement of the table was -as follows:—</p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td align="left"> </td><td class="c">Mr. Underwood</td><td align="left"> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">Cabot</td><td align="left"> </td><td align="left">Lowell</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">Motley</td><td align="left"> </td><td align="left">Holmes</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">Longfellow</td><td align="left"> </td><td align="left">Emerson</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"> </td><td class="c">Phillips</td><td align="left"> </td></tr> -</table> - -<p>“They seemed so well pleased that they adjourned, and invited me <i>to -meet them</i> again to-morrow (the 20th), when I shall again meet the same -persons, with one other (Whipple, the essayist) added to that brilliant -constellation of philosophical, poetic, and historical talent. Each one -is known alike on both sides of the Atlantic, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_412" id="page_412">{412}</a></span> is read beyond the -limits of the English language. Though all this is known to you, you -will pardon me for intruding it upon you. But still I have the vanity to -believe that you will think them the most natural thoughts in the world -to me. Though I say it that should not, it was the proudest day of my -life.”<a name="FNanchor_116_116" id="FNanchor_116_116"></a><a href="#Footnote_116_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a></p> - -<p>There was another writer not at the dinner whose coöperation it was -important to secure. Mrs. Stowe returned in June to America from -England, whither she had gone to secure copyright for “Dred,” and Mr. -Phillips at once laid his plan before her. She approved it most heartily -and promised to give it her cordial support. It is not impossible that -she made a definite promise of a serial novel to begin with the first -number, but the sudden death a month later of her son Henry brought such -a mental strain upon her that it was nearly a year before she could -undertake any continued writing. The first number of the <i>Atlantic -Monthly</i> contained a brief allegory by her, “The Minister’s Mourning -Veil,” and she contributed later an essay, but “The Minister’s Wooing” -was not begun in the magazine till December, 1858.</p> - -<p>As a result of these preliminary plans, Mr. Underwood was dispatched in -June to England to secure the aid of English authors, and Mr. Lowell was -asked to take the position of editor. Lowell had already taken an active -part in creating an interest in the venture among writers. Underwood had -turned to him as his most important ally, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_413" id="page_413">{413}</a></span> Longfellow records in his -diary, 29 April, 1857: “Lowell was here last evening to interest me in a -new Magazine to be started in Boston by Phillips and Sampson. I told him -I would write for it if I wrote for any Magazine.” Dr. Holmes christened -the magazine, and Lowell, from the first, reckoned upon him for -contributions. In 1885, when Dr. Holmes was resuming his regular prose -contributions after a long intermission, he wrote in the introductory -paper:<a name="FNanchor_117_117" id="FNanchor_117_117"></a><a href="#Footnote_117_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a> “He (Mr. Lowell) thought there might be something in my old -portfolio which would be not unacceptable in the new magazine. I ... -wondered somewhat when Mr. Lowell urged me with such earnestness to -become a contributor, and so, yielding to a pressure which I could not -understand, and yet found myself unable to resist, I promised to take a -part in the new venture, as an occasional writer in the columns of the -magazine.” Lowell, reading this number of the <i>Atlantic</i> in London, -wrote to Dr. Holmes: “The first number of your New Portfolio whets my -appetite. Let me make one historical correction. When I accepted the -editorship of the <i>Atlantic</i>, I made it a condition precedent that you -were the first contributor to be engaged. Said I not well?”<a name="FNanchor_118_118" id="FNanchor_118_118"></a><a href="#Footnote_118_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a></p> - -<p>Emerson apparently had asked if the contribu<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_414" id="page_414">{414}</a></span>tions were to be signed, -for Lowell wrote him, 14 September, 1857: “All the articles will be -anonymous, but you will be quite helpless, for your name is written in -all kinds of self-betraying anagrams over yours. But as far as we are -concerned there shall be as strict honor as the XIXth century allows of. -Your wishes shall govern the position of the article [‘Illusions,’ in -the first number], though I should have preferred to give it the -precedence. I am afraid that where that is will be the head of the -table, whether or no.”</p> - -<p>In the same first number appeared four of Emerson’s poems, printed in a -group: “The Romany Girl,” “The Chartist’s Complaint,” “Days,” and -“Brahma.” Emerson seems to have raised some question about this, for in -the same letter Lowell writes: “About the poems I ought to say that when -I spoke of printing all four I was perhaps greedy, and Mr. Underwood -says we can’t afford it, reckoning each as a separate poem—which means -giving $50 apiece for them. Forgive me for coming down into the kitchen -thus, but as I got the magazine into the scrape I must get it out. My -notion was that all the poems would be published at once in a volume, -and that therefore it would be alike to you. I ought to have thought -that you sent them for selection,—and I will never be so rapacious -again till I have another so good chance. If I am to have only one, give -me ‘Days.’ That is as limpid and complete as a Greek epigram. I quarrel, -though, with one word ‘hypocritic,’ which I doubt does not give the very -shade<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_415" id="page_415">{415}</a></span> of meaning you intended. I think you did wish to imply -<i>intentional</i> taking-in? I will take the liberty to draw your notice to -one or two things in the proofs (of the poems), leaving them to your own -judgment entirely.... It is not often that a magazine carries such -freight as your ‘Illusions.’... How about Mr. Thoreau?”</p> - -<p>It was not “Days” so much as “Brahma” that seized upon the imagination. -Mr. Trowbridge, in his article on “The Author of Quabbin,” says it was -“more talked about and puzzled over and parodied than any other poem of -sixteen lines published within my recollection. ‘What does it mean?’ was -the question readers everywhere asked; and if one had the reputation of -seeing a little way into the Concord philosophy, he was liable at any -time to be stopped on the street by some perplexed inquirer, who would -draw him into the nearest doorway, produce a crumpled newspaper clipping -from the recesses of a waistcoat pocket, and, with knitted brows, -exclaim, ‘Here! you think you understand Emerson; now tell me what all -this is about,—<i>If the red slayer think he slays</i>,’ and so forth.”</p> - -<p>The magazine appeared about the first of November, and on the 19th -Lowell wrote to Emerson: “You have seen, no doubt, how the Philistines -have been parodying your ‘Brahma,’ and showing how they still believe in -their special god Baal, and are unable to arrive at a conception of an -omnipresent Deity. I have not yet met with a single clever one or I -would have sent it to you for your amuse<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_416" id="page_416">{416}</a></span>ment. Meanwhile, they are -advertising the <i>Atlantic</i> in the very best way, and Mr. Underwood tells -me that the orders for the second number are doubling on those for the -first. I think you will find the second an improvement.... Your poem -[“Two Rivers”] is to go into No. 3, simply as a matter of housewifery, -because we had already three articles at $50. I think I told you which I -chose—‘Musketaquit.’ The ‘Solitude and Society’ [published in No. 2] -has only one fault, that it is not longer, but had it been only a page, -there would have been enough in it. Did you use the word <i>daysman</i><a name="FNanchor_119_119" id="FNanchor_119_119"></a><a href="#Footnote_119_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a> -deliberately? It has a technical meaning, and I suppose you used it in -that sense. Mr. Nichols (the vermilion pencil) was outraged, and -appealed to me. I answered that you had a right to use any word you -liked till we found some one who wrote better English to correct you. Or -did you mean the word to be merely the English of <i>journeyman</i>?</p> - -<p>“I hope you will be able to give us something more for No. 3 before you -go off to lecture. The number promises well thus far, but I wish to make -it a decided advance. You have no notion how hard bestead we are. Out of -297 manuscripts only at most six accepted. I begin to believe in the -total depravity of contributions.</p> - -<p>“Let me thank you in especial for one line in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_417" id="page_417">{417}</a></span> ‘Brahma,’ which abides -with me as an intimate—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘When me they fly, I am the wings.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">You have crammed meaning there with an hydraulic press. Will not Thoreau -give us something from Moosehead?”</p> - -<p>Fourteen years earlier Lowell had welcomed Whittier as a contributor to -the <i>Pioneer</i>, and now he renewed the old relation. He printed -“Tritemius” in the first number and “Skipper Ireson’s Ride” in the -second. Indeed, the <i>Atlantic</i> came into existence most fortunately for -Whittier, whose fortunes it helped distinctly, as it gave him a medium -for the publication of his purely literary poems, and thus not only -filled his pocket but helped materially to place him before the public -in another guise than that of an ardent reformer. Lowell’s letter upon -receipt of “Skipper Ireson’s Ride” is interesting both for its -cordiality and for the contrast in tone to his manner of addressing -Emerson. It may not unfairly be said that Emerson was the only one of -his contemporaries whom Lowell addressed as if he were profoundly -conscious of his relation to him as a pupil to his master. Lowell’s -letter to Whittier is dated 4 November, 1857.<a name="FNanchor_120_120" id="FNanchor_120_120"></a><a href="#Footnote_120_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a></p> - -<p>“I thank you heartily for the ballad, which will go into the next -number. I like it all the better for its provincialism,—in all fine -pears, you know, we can taste the old <i>puckers</i>. I know the story<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_418" id="page_418">{418}</a></span> well. -I am familiar with Marblehead and its dialect, and as the burthen is -intentionally provincial I have taken the liberty to print it in such a -way as shall give the peculiar accent, thus:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Cap’n Ireson for his horrd horrt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was torred and feathered and corried in a corrt.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">That’s the way I’ve always ‘horrd it,’—only it began ‘Old Flud Ireson.’ -What a good name Ireson (son of wrath) is for the hero of such a -history!</p> - -<p>“You see that ‘Tritemius’ is going the rounds! I meant to have sent you -the proofs, and to have asked you to make a change in it where these -four rhymes come together (assonances I mean),—‘door,’ ‘poor,’ ‘store,’ -‘more.’ It annoyed me, but I do not find that any one else has been -troubled by it, and everybody likes the poem. I am glad that the -Philistines have chosen some verses of mine<a name="FNanchor_121_121" id="FNanchor_121_121"></a><a href="#Footnote_121_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a> for their target, not -being able to comprehend the bearing of then. I mean I am glad that they -did it rather than pick out those of any one else for their scapegoat. I -shall not let you rest till I have got a New England pastoral out of -you. This last is cater-cousin to it, at least, being a piscatorial.</p> - -<p>“Will you be good enough to let me know how much Mr. Underwood shall -send you? He will remit at once.</p> - -<p>“The sale of Maga has been very good considering the times, and I think -you will find the second<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_419" id="page_419">{419}</a></span> number better than the first. If you do not -wish the burthen so spelt, will you write me?”</p> - -<p>The year 1857 was one of great financial distress, and the magazine felt -something of this influence even before it was published, for it was -intended to bring it out earlier than its first number actually -appeared. It was in May that the preliminary arrangements were made and -Lowell secured as editor. As late, however, as the end of that month, he -was writing to a foreign correspondent that the editorship was a dead -secret. But as we have seen he had interested himself in the venture -from the outset. From time to time after his attempt with the <i>Pioneer</i> -he had revolved in his mind plans for magazines. It is safe to say that -few prominent writers in America, Longfellow and Cooper being the chief -exceptions, failed to dream of launching some vessel of this sort that -should be freighted with the best of literature, and the initiative in -almost all the cases of important magazines has been taken by the author -rather than by the publisher. We have perhaps come to the close of the -period when a new monthly magazine seems essential for the carrying of -American thought and letters, and enterprise of this sort is more likely -to seek an outlet in weekly journalism; but the men of letters who were -at the front in the middle of the century not only had strong -intellectual sympathy with the brilliant <i>Blackwood</i> of that -day,—Lowell in his correspondence repeatedly uses the familiar form -<i>Maga</i> when referring to the <i>Atlantic</i>,—and had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_420" id="page_420">{420}</a></span> been brought up on -<i>Tait</i>, <i>The London Journal</i>, <i>Fraser</i>, and other vehicles of -contemporaneous English and Scottish letters, but they demanded some -direct, open means of reaching readers, for they had a great deal to -say, which was ill-adapted to daily journalism and for which they could -not wait till it should cool for book publication.</p> - -<p>The conditions were favorable also from the point of view of the -publisher, and Phillips & Sampson were in a good position to know this. -They were aware that the leading writers were in their neighborhood. -Washington Irving was an old man, and Mr. Bryant by his associations was -rather of New England than of New York. Excepting these two the men of -national distinction, Emerson, Hawthorne, Longfellow, Prescott, Motley, -Lowell, were New Englanders, and men known by these to have large gifts, -Holmes, Higginson, Thoreau, Cabot, Norton, who were chiefly relied on to -make the early numbers, were their neighbors and friends, while the -commanding reputation of Mrs. Stowe could at once be counted on to give -éclat to any magazine with which she was connected. Besides, the -business of this house, which was largely that of a jobbing house, so -called, that is, a house which sold miscellaneous books from whatever -publishers all over the country, was of such a nature as to create a -confidence in the existence of a widespread audience of intelligent -readers.</p> - -<p>Thus the publishers were prepared to undertake the venture upon a -somewhat liberal scale for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_421" id="page_421">{421}</a></span> those days. They chose the best printer near -by, Mr. Houghton, who had already given distinction to the name -“Riverside,” and they proposed to make a handsome magazine, not wholly -unlike in its appearance the Edinburgh <i>Blackwood</i>. They paid their -editor a salary of $2500, and they expected to pay contributors on a -scale not to be sure much in advance of what the best writers could -secure in other periodicals in Philadelphia and New York, but more -generous as regards the average contributor. I think the mean rate of -prose was six dollars a page, though it may occasionally in the case of -a tyro have dropped to five dollars, and for poems they paid usually -fifty dollars apiece. In a letter to a contributor who took exception to -the price paid him, Lowell wrote, when the magazine had been running -three or four months, “You must be content. Six dollars a page is more -than can be got elsewhere, and we only pay ten to folks whose <i>names</i> -are worth the other four dollars. <i>Capite?</i> What we may be able to do -hereafter, I know not. <i>I</i> shall always be for liberal pay.”</p> - -<p>It might seem as though the distinction thus referred to would hardly -exist when all the articles were unsigned, but the authorship for the -most part was an open secret. In those days the <i>North American Review</i>, -as well as other like periodicals, used to print a little slip with the -authorship of the separate articles set against the successive numbers -of the articles, and this slip, though not inserted in all the copies -sold or sent to subscrib<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_422" id="page_422">{422}</a></span>ers, was at the service of newspapers and the -inner circle of contributors and near friends. In like manner the -authorship of the principal articles and poems in the <i>Atlantic</i> leaked -out, and for some, like Emerson’s poems and Holmes’s “Autocrat,” there -could be no concealment.</p> - -<p>The authors themselves sometimes were glad of the privacy, as they -thought it secured them more independence and possibility of frankness. -Lowell thus wrote in September, 1859, to one of his contributors, who -complained of what he thought want of care: “I am very sorry indeed for -the mischance, but am quite sure it was no fault of mine. Where the -‘copy’ passes through four or five hands, all of whose owners know the -handwriting, the chances of leakage are great. I confess that in the -worry of the last week or two, I did not remember to give any new -caution just before the publication of the October number. I am the more -sorry if it is to deprive us of your contributions. For myself, I have -always been opposed to the publication of the authors’ names at all. I -do as well as I can with so many things to think of at once.” The -practice of withholding names publicly continued till 1862, when the -index at the end of the volume disclosed the authorship of the articles -in the body of the magazine, and in 1870, the practice was begun of -signing contributions. The anonymous character of the early volumes -served, however, to bury the authorship in some cases past resurrection, -as I found when I undertook to prepare a General Index in 1877, and -again in 1889.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_423" id="page_423">{423}</a></span></p> - -<p>The ideal which Lowell formed for the magazine may best be inferred from -the character of the numbers issued under his control, but in a few -passages in his letters to contributors and friends he gives some -glimpses of what was going on in his mind as he faced the very practical -questions which arose in the conduct of the magazine. When I became -editor of the <i>Atlantic</i>, in the spring of 1890, he contrasted my -position with his own, and remarked on the very much larger number of -writers on whom I could call for contributions, and the higher average -of training in literary work. “Your task,” he wrote me, “will be in one -respect at least easier than mine was thirty odd years ago, for there -are now twenty people who can write English where there was one then. -Indeed, there are so many, and they do it so well, that it looks as if -literature as a profession or guild were near its end, and as if every -man (and woman) would do his or her own on the principle of Every man -his own washerwoman.” I thought and said, however, that it was not -general average but distinction which gave a stamp to the magazine, and -that in that respect he certainly had the advantage. In one of his -letters to Mr. Richard Grant White, who feared a Shakespeare article he -had furnished might be the one paper too much, he wrote: “I don’t care -whether the public are tired of the Divine Villiams or not—a <i>part</i> of -the magazine, as long as I have anything to do with it, shall be -expressly <i>not</i> for the Mob (of well-dressed gentlemen who read with -ease).<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_424" id="page_424">{424}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>At the outset, before any number had been published, he wrote to a -friend from whom be solicited a contribution: “The magazine is going to -be free without being fanatical, and we hope to unite in it all -available talent of all shades of opinion. The magazine is to have -opinions of its own, and not be afraid to speak them, but I think we -shall be scholarly and gentlemanlike.” “This reading endless -manuscripts,” he wrote to the same friend, when he was in full tide of -preparation for the first number, “is hard work, and takes a great deal -of time, but I am resolved that nothing shall go in which I have not -first read. I wish to have nothing go in that will merely <i>do</i>,<a name="FNanchor_122_122" id="FNanchor_122_122"></a><a href="#Footnote_122_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a> but -I fear I can’t keep so high a standard. It is astonishing how much there -is that keeps just short of the line of good and drops into the limbo of -indifferent.”</p> - -<p>“There is a constant pressure on me,” he writes again, “to ‘popularize’ -the magazine, which I resist without clamor.” It is easy to understand -this attitude. Lowell cared greatly for the success of the <i>Atlantic</i>, -and he was governed in his conduct of it by prudential considerations. -In the letter just quoted he had occasion to refer to a controversy -which was then hot. “I am urged,” he says, “to take ground in the Albany -controversy, but do not feel that there is any <i>ought</i> in the matter, -and am sure the Trustees will beat in the end. I think it would be -unwise to let the magazine take<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_425" id="page_425">{425}</a></span> a losing side unless clear justice -required it. Am I not right?” But though he was not indifferent to the -commercial prosperity of the <i>Atlantic</i>, and knew well that its -opportunity for serving letters was largely conditioned on its -subscription list, he did not make the fatal mistake of subordinating -his own judgment to a supposititious judgment of the mysterious public -which buys and reads magazines. It was his business to keep his own -judgment free from the partisan bias of idiosyncrasy, but he perceived -well the more subtle danger to which he was exposed of abdicating his -authority while keeping his title in the supposed interest of the -magazine. It was just because he was Lowell, a man whom the public was -ready to follow in literary judgments, that he was in this place, and it -was in the application of a well-seasoned taste that he demonstrated his -fitness for the position. He cared greatly to be the instrument of -organizing a body of first-rate literature, and the tone which he gave -the <i>Atlantic</i> during the few months of his editorship became a -tradition which powerfully affected its character after he retired from -it. He put his own stamp on it emphatically.</p> - -<p>The public, meanwhile, began at once to exercise that censorship which -is a somewhat whimsical but very substantial witness to the value of an -enterprise which is only technically private. The Lowell Institute, for -example, is on a foundation so exclusively personal that there is not -even a nominal board of trustees to be consulted in its management: the -courses of lectures which it offers are<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_426" id="page_426">{426}</a></span> absolutely free; yet ever since -its establishment it has been subjected to criticism, good or ill -natured, which would seem to imply some indefeasible right on the part -of the public that criticises. Really, the criticism is simply an -ingenuous expression of the profound interest which the public takes in -a noble trust. Somewhat in the same way when the <i>Atlantic</i> was -established, the public refused to regard it as offering wares which -people might buy or not as they liked. It recognized it as a literary -organon, as a power for good or ill; it was immensely interested in it, -and showed its interest by attacking it severely on occasions.</p> - -<p>Such an occasion, especially, was the appearance of Dr. Holmes’s -“Professor at the Breakfast-Table,” in which this writer, who had leaped -into popularity through the “Autocrat,” delivered himself of opinions -and judgments which were regarded by a good many as dangerous and -subversive, all the more dangerous by reason of their wit and -entertaining qualities. If one could believe many of the newspapers, Dr. -Holmes was a sort of reincarnation of Voltaire, who stood for the most -audacious enemy of Christianity in modern times.</p> - -<p>Some intimation of what Lowell was to encounter as editor may be -gathered from a few words in a letter to T. W. Higginson, written at the -end of his first year, when “The Autocrat” had already drawn the fire of -one class of critic.</p> - -<p>“I only look upon my duty,” he says, “as a vicarious one for Phillips -and Sampson, that nothing may go in (before we are firm on our feet)<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_427" id="page_427">{427}</a></span> -that helps the ‘religious’ press in their warfare on us. Presently we -shall be even with them, and have a <i>free</i> magazine in its true sense. I -never allow any personal notion of mine to interfere, except in cases of -obvious obscurity, bad taste, or bad grammar.” And Mr. Norton -prints<a name="FNanchor_123_123" id="FNanchor_123_123"></a><a href="#Footnote_123_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a> a letter written shortly after to Dr. Holmes, which shows -clearly the cordial support which the editor gave his contributor.</p> - -<p>In one respect Lowell held a somewhat different position from that -occupied by later editors. The <i>Atlantic</i> was so little troubled by -competitors, and its company of contributors was so determined by a sort -of natural selection, that Lowell’s editorial function was mainly -discharged by the exercise of discrimination in the choice of articles, -and the distribution of material through successive numbers; he had -little to do in the way of foraging for matter. It must not be supposed, -however, that there was anything perfunctory in his editorship. He was -in love with literature, and his fine taste stood him in good stead, not -only in the rejection of the commonplace, but in the perception of -qualities which might redeem an otherwise undistinguished poem or paper. -He had, too, that enthusiasm in the discovery of excellence which made -him call his friends and neighbors together when he had found some pearl -of great price; an enthusiasm which he was very sure to share with the -author. He gave thus to the magazine that character of <i>distinction</i> -which conscientiousness<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_428" id="page_428">{428}</a></span> alone on the part of the editor, or even -careful study of conditions, cannot give.</p> - -<p>He was, to be sure, a trifle negligent of the business of writing to his -contributors. He left as much of the correspondence as he could to Mr. -Underwood, but in his somewhat capricious fashion he might make an -article an excuse for a long and friendly letter. To one of his -contributors who pursued him for his opinion upon some accepted -manuscripts, he wrote a little testily: “You have a right to frankness -and shall have it. I <i>did</i> like the article on —— better than the -other, and I should like the —— one particularly. But what of that? -other folks may have liked the other better, for aught I know. The fault -of our tastes is in our stars, not in ourselves. My wife can’t endure -‘The Biglow Papers,’ and somehow or other her dislike of them is a great -refreshment to me and makes me like her all the better. But I think it -is rather hard on an editor to expect him to give his opinion about -everything he prints—I mean as to whether it is specially to his taste -or not. How long would my contributors put up with me if I made -Archbishops of Granada of them all? I tell you again, as I have told you -before, that I am always glad of an article from you, let it be what it -will, but (don’t you see?) I am gladdest when it is such a one as only -you can write. If I could only print one number made of altogether such, -I could sing my <i>nunc dimittis</i> with a joyful heart.” A little of the -fret of his life in this particular appears in a whimsical tirade which -he sent<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_429" id="page_429">{429}</a></span> to Mr. Norton on the eve of a flight to the Adirondacks in the -summer of 1859:—</p> - -<p>“To-day is Sunday; at least the bells have been shouting it, but ‘the -Sabbath dawns no Sabbath-day for me.’ I have been reading proof and -picking out manuscripts all the morning. Do you ever get desperate? I -feel so now that I have got all my manuscript-household in order. They -appal me by their mass. I look first at one box, and then at another, -and—fill my pipe. ‘It is dreadful!’ as Clough’s heroine says in the -Bothie. And 128 pages which it would take one so long to fill with his -own stuff eats up that of other folks—no, I don’t mean that and would -not allow such a metaphor to a contributor—is satiated so soon with -that of other folks—that is, uses it up so slowly. Mille-dam! Have not -two articles of —— been on hand now for a year? He seems to spin out -his brains as tenuously and uselessly as those creatures that streak the -air with gossamer—no chance of catching even a stray fly of thought. -Nay, his object is, I fancy, precisely what that of the aforesaid -creatures may be—merely to swing himself over a gap. He is my ink—my -pen-and-ink-ubus. I could scalp him the rather as he wears a wig and is -deaf, and so would not be likely to hear of it. Then there is —— who -can’t express himself in less than sixteen pages on any imaginable -topic. It is a terrible thing this writing for the press, by which a -man’s pen learns gradually to go by itself as those Chinese servants are -said to fan and sleep at the same time. ‘No, no, by heaven I am not<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_430" id="page_430">{430}</a></span> -ma-a-d!’ but I expect to be. I believe I have so far settled matters -that everybody will think me a monster. But never mind, I get out of -ear-shot to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>How fully and carefully he could and would write under special urgency -may be seen by the long letter which he addressed to Mrs. Stowe when -“The Minister’s Wooing” had been running three or four months in the -<i>Atlantic</i>. The letter was published in C. E. Stowe’s life of his -mother, and is quoted also in Mrs. Fields’s “Life and Letters of Harriet -Beecher Stowe.”</p> - -<p>The criticism for which this letter was an excuse illustrates one very -important element in Lowell’s editorial mind. However little he might -exert himself to go afield for articles in the body of the magazine, he -did not trust to luck for the critical notices. In that department he -took great pains to secure competent workmen. To Lowell and his -contemporaries this matter of book reviews was one of great consequence. -In the evolution of literary periodical literature the article of the -old <i>Quarterly</i> type, which was part a summary of a book, part a further -contribution to the subject, and part a judgment on the author, had shed -the first constituent, had lost much of the second, but preserved the -third in a more condensed and, to a certain degree, in a more impersonal -spirit. But criticism in its finest form was highly valued, and the form -of the book review was accepted as recognized and permanent. When the -<i>Atlantic</i>, therefore, was set up emphasis was laid on this serious<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_431" id="page_431">{431}</a></span> -side of literary study, and the causerie, the light persiflage which -serves as a relief in most magazines of a literary type—the <i>Atlantic</i> -itself has now its Contributors’ Club—was disregarded. To be sure, in -the first number, Lowell printed what seemed to promise a gay side to -the magazine, a leaf entitled “The Round Table,” the purpose of which, -in this instance, was to introduce an occasional poem by Dr. Holmes, but -I suspect he was either a little alarmed at the prospect of setting his -table monthly with a dessert, or was satisfied that the “Autocrat” would -serve the same end. At any rate, no second number of “The Round Table” -appeared. But each month the last few pages of each number were given -up, after the well-accepted tradition, to notices of new books with -occasional surveys of current music and pictures.</p> - -<p>Lowell’s estimate of the value of literary criticism is expressed in a -letter to Mr. Richard Grant White, 10 June, 1858, apropos of a purpose -Mr. White then had of starting a weekly literary journal in New York. -“There is no one opprobrium of American scholarship and letters so -great,” he says, “as the general laxity and debasement of criticism. -With few exceptions our criticisms are venial (whether the pay be money -or friendship) or partisan. An invitation to dinner may make a Milton -out of the sorriest Flecknoe, and a difference in politics turn a -creditable poet into a dunce.” Lowell relied on White for a certain -amount of criticism and wrote him, 8 March, 1859,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_432" id="page_432">{432}</a></span> “There is nothing I -so especially desire as to have ‘experts’ make the <i>Atlantic</i> their -pulpit. As long as I continue editor, I wish you to understand that your -contributions will always be welcome, on no ground of personal -friendship, but because I know they will be of value. I particularly -wish to have the department of ‘Lit. Notices’ made more full. I find so -few people whom I can trust to write a review! Personal motives of one -kind or other are always sure to peep out. I think I have gained one -good from the fearful bore of reading manuscripts; it is gradually -making me as impartial as a chemical test—as insensible, too, perhaps? -That is the only fear.”</p> - -<p>As a result partly of his difficulty in securing satisfactory criticism -and partly of his own aptitude for work of this kind, Lowell wrote more -than forty reviews in the department during his editorship, besides -several articles in the body of the magazine which were really reviews, -like his careful study in two numbers of White’s Shakespeare. He was in -such friendly communication with Mr. White regarding his work that it -would have been idle to wear any mask in his presence, and Mr. White -wrote him in great excitement over the first of the two articles. “I am -very much obliged to you for your kind letter,” Lowell replied; “I never -saw a man who did not think himself indifferent to praise, nor one who -did not like it. In this country, where praise (or blame) is so cheap, -one can’t think much of the old <i>laudari ab laudato</i>, for the <i>laudatus</i> -himself may be the cele<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_433" id="page_433">{433}</a></span>brated Snooks, but I think I know how to value -it from a man of discernment. I hope you will like the last half of my -article as well as the first. It is honest, anyhow, and kindly meant, -and I endeavored to avoid all picking of flaws. Years ago I laid to -heart the saying of an old lady—‘that the eleventh commandment -was—Don’t twit.’ ...</p> - -<p>“I don’t like reviewing, especially where the author is an acquaintance. -I find it so hard to be impartial, but in your case I think my -commendation would lose half its force were it not qualified with some -adverse criticism. Please believe that I wrote all with the kindest -feelings.”</p> - -<p>Lowell certainly had nothing of that superficial habit of reviewing -which is at the bottom of most of the unsatisfactory work of this kind. -In reviewing White’s Shakespeare, for example, he read over twice every -word of the commentary and notes and then laid the book aside that his -impression might settle and clarify before he wrote his criticism. Swift -as he was in writing, there was, for the most part, a long period of -brooding over his creative work and in study over his criticism. He -wrote an article, for instance, on “Wedgwood’s Dictionary,” and -complained regarding it to Mr. Norton: “You know my unfortunate weakness -for doing things not quite superficially. So I have been a week about -it—press waiting—devil at my elbow (I mean the printer’s)—every -dictionary and vocabulary I own gradually gathering in a semicircle -round my chair,—and three of the days of twelve solid hours each. And -with what result?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_434" id="page_434">{434}</a></span> at most six pages, which not six men will care -anything about. And now it is done I feel as if I had taken hold of the -book the wrong way, and that I should have devoted myself to his theory -more and to particulars less; or, rather, that I ought to have had more -space. But I had a gap to fill up,—just so much and no more. There is -one passage<a name="FNanchor_124_124" id="FNanchor_124_124"></a><a href="#Footnote_124_124" class="fnanchor">[124]</a> in it that I wager will make all of you laugh, and -heavens! what fun I could have made of the book if I had been -unscrupulous! But I soon learned to respect Wedgwood’s attainments, and -resisted all temptation.”</p> - -<p>Just as Lowell’s fun could find its way even into an index, so in his -sober criticisms he would sometimes hide a jest for the delectation of -especially discerning readers, as when in his article on White’s -Shakespeare, he remarks incidentally: “To every commentator who has -wantonly tampered with the text, or obscured it with his inky cloud of -paraphrase, we feel inclined to apply the quadrisyllabic name of the -brother of Agis, king of Sparta.” Felton, Longfellow tells us in a -letter to Sumner, was the first to unearth the joke and to remember or -discover that this name was Eudamidas.</p> - -<p>Apart from his considerable criticism Lowell contributed to the volumes -which he edited chiefly poems and political articles. He printed the -“Ode to Happiness” already referred to, the notable verses on “Italy, -1859,” and the striking poem,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_435" id="page_435">{435}</a></span> “The Dead House,” which has an -autobiographic interest, not from its being the record of an incident or -even from the mood which it reflects, but from the fact that Lowell -could write it at all and disclaim any personal connection with the -theme. Mr. Norton has printed an interesting comment on the poem by -Lowell,<a name="FNanchor_125_125" id="FNanchor_125_125"></a><a href="#Footnote_125_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a> and in another letter written a few days later Lowell adds: -“I have touched here and there the poem I sent, and think of putting it -in the <i>Atlantic</i>. Did you like it? It is pure fancy, though founded on -a feeling I have often had,—but for æsthetic reasons I put an -‘inexpressive she’ into it.” In how healthy a mind must he have been, -and how graciously healed in his new life to write thus without having -his own great grief thrust itself between him and his poem.</p> - -<p>Yet there was a poem entitled “The Home,” written at the same time which -was rather a record of personal experience than a universal mood caught -in terms of common life, and he cast it aside therefore and never -printed it. It has its place in a memoir of his life.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Here once my step was quickened,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here beckoned the opening door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And <i>welcome!</i> thrilled from the threshold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the foot it had felt before.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“A glow came forth to meet me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The blithe flame laughed in the grate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shadows that danced on the ceiling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Danced faster with mine for a mate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_436" id="page_436">{436}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Glad to see you, old friend,’ yawned the armchair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘This corner, you know, is your seat;’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Rest your slippers on me,’ beamed the fender,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘I brighten at touch of your feet.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>We know the practised finger,’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Said the books, ‘that seems all brain,’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the shy page rustled the secret<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It had kept till I came again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Hummed the pillow, ‘My down once trembled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On nightingales’ throats that flew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the twilight gardens of Hafix<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To gather quaint dreams for you.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Ah me! if the Past have heartsease,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It hath also rue for men:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I come back: those unhealed ridges<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were not in the churchyard then!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“But (I think) the house is unaltered—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I will go and ask to look<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the rooms that were once familiar<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To my life as its bed to the brook.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Unaltered! alas for the sameness<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That makes the change but more!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How estranged seems the look of the windows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How grates my foot on the floor!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“To learn this simple lesson<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Need I go to Paris or Rome,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the many make a household,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But only one the Home?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Twas a smile, ’twas a garment’s rustle,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Twas nothing that you could phrase,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the whole dumb dwelling grew conscious<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And put on her looks and ways.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Were it mine, I would close the shutters<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As you smooth the lids of the dead,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_437" id="page_437">{437}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the funeral fire should wind it,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This corpse of a Home that is dead!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“For it died that summer morning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When she, its soul, was borne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To lie all dark in the hillside<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That looks over woodland and corn.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>“Is it anything?” he wrote to the friend to whom he sent it, or is it -nothing? Or is it one of those nothings that is something? I think the -last stanza should be last but one and begin ‘But it died,’ if -‘dwelling’ will do for an antecedent. Is the first half too special?”</p> - -<p>There was indeed a gayer mood on him in the midst of his work which -could make him turn his discomforts into a jest. “I cannot learn the -knack of doing six things at once,” he wrote to a friend. “I had my -whole time to myself for too many years, and the older I grow the -unreadier writer I become. What a lucky dog Methusalem was! Nothing to -know, and nine hundred years to learn it in.” He was writing to a -somewhat dry-minded correspondent, but to a more congenial friend he -wrote at the same time: “Nothing has happened to me since I saw you -except manuscripts, and my mind is gradually becoming a blank. It is -very depleting, I find, to read stuff week in and week out (I almost -spelt week with an <i>a</i>), and does not help one to be a lively -correspondent. But I believe I could dictate five love stories at the -same time (as Napoleon the Other could despatches) without mixing them -in the least—and indeed it would make no difference if I did. ‘Julie -gazed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_438" id="page_438">{438}</a></span> into the eyes of her lover, which sought in vain to escape her -enquiring look, while the tears trembled on her long dark lashes, but -fell not (that ‘fell not’ is new, I think). “And is it indeed so?” she -said slowly, after a pause in which her heart leaped like an imprisoned -bird.’—‘Meanwhile, the elder of the two, a stern-featured man of some -forty winters, played with the hilt of his dagger, half drawing and then -sheathing again the Damascus blade thin as the eloquence of Everett and -elastic as the conscience of Cass. “Didst mark the old man tremble?” -“Cospetto! my uncle, a noted leech, was wont to say that iron was a good -tonic for unsteady nerves,” and still he trifled with the ominous -looking weapon, etc., etc.’ I think of taking a contract to write all -the stories myself at so much a dozen—a good murder or a happy marriage -to be paid double.”</p> - -<p>One is reminded of Lamb’s famous letter to Manning when he reads a -letter which Lowell wrote to his brother-in-law, Captain Parker, then in -China: “A man who is eccentric enough to prefer a part of the world -where folks walk with their heads down certainly deserves the -commiseration of his friends, but as for letters—how to write and what -to write about? I can’t write upside down, and I suppose you can’t read -rightside up. So it is clearly a waste of time, but you will be able to -read this after you get home again, when old age will have given all the -news in it a kind of second-childhood, and it will have become fresh by -dint of having been forgotten.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_439" id="page_439">{439}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Of course there isn’t any news—when was there ever any? For my own -part, I don’t regret it, looking on news as generally only a short way -of saying nuisance, and believing Noah to have been the happiest man -that ever lived, for all the gossips were five thousand fathoms under -water, and he knew that he should not hear anything when he got into -port. The daughters must have been put to it, though, with nobody left -but Shem, Ham, and Japhet to work slippers and smoking caps for, and -never a new engagement to discuss.</p> - -<p>As for news here,—there was the College Exhibition day before -yesterday, which was a good deal like other Exhibitions only that it -rained. I suppose your wife has written you of the appointment of Caihee -as professor of the Chinese language and literature with a salary of ten -piculs a year, which she is allowed to raise in the college grounds, the -Corporation finding cucumber seed and Theodore Parker the vinegar. A -compromise has been effected in theological matters, and she is to -worship Josh Bates the London banker instead of simple Josh, in -consideration of which Mr. Bates will pay half the salary of a Bonze to -be imported express. The students will be allowed to let off -fire-crackers during her lectures. She begins with an exposition of the -doctrine of the venerable confuse-us, which can hardly fail of being in -harmony with all existing systems of philosophy and theology. As all the -Professors are obliged to do something outside for a living, she will -continue to be on duty with Maggie. This is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_440" id="page_440">{440}</a></span> a great triumph for the -Woman’s-Rights party, who have nominated Mrs. —— for Governess, with a -Council of old women, including, I am told, Mr. ——. You see the world -moves up here. As to other political intelligence, there is not -much—that quality is commonly wanting in such matters: but the -Charleston Convention is expected to nominate the Captain of the yacht -Wanderer<a name="FNanchor_126_126" id="FNanchor_126_126"></a><a href="#Footnote_126_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a> for President, as an exponent of the views of the more -moderate wing of the party (I mean, of course, the Southern wing) on the -subject of slavery. A Red River overseer is to adorn the ticket as -candidate for the Vice-Presidency. We shall be likely at last to get a -truly conservative administration. At home we have a rehearsal of -‘Bonnie Doon,’ Banks being the Republican man, while the <i>brays</i> are -well performed by Mr. B. F. Butler.</p> - -<p>“Cambridge meanwhile is all agog with a wedding to come off this -afternoon, Darley the artist and Miss Jenny (I think) Colburn. There is -to be a wonderful turn-out of handsome bridesmaids, the bride having the -good luck to be beautifully cousined. A great crush of hoops is looked -for at Christ Church, and the coopers, it is said, will take the -occasion for a strike. All the girls are crazy to go, and many who go in -with a diameter of ten feet will come out with only two. I have sent for -a new pair of lemon-colored gloves for the wedding visit. There will be -a jam, of course, but then I am one of the harder sex, and shan’t mind -it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_441" id="page_441">{441}</a></span> They have my best wishes for a crop of little Darleyings.</p> - -<p>“So you are to have another war over there. I think it a shabby piece of -business. Can you thrash a nation into friendly relations? And if a man -don’t like your society, can you change his views by giving him a black -eye? The Chinese are not a nation of savages, and with two hundred and -forty millions of people they can hold out a great while in killed, -wounded, and missing. I think John Bull and Johnny Crapaud will have -their hands full before they are done with it. What has a Bull to do in -a China-shop?”</p> - -<p>There was an incompatibility of temper in Lowell which stood in the way -of entire pleasure in editing the <i>Atlantic</i>. He was not averse to -work—instances enough have been shown of this—but he chafed under -methodical work. He could work hours and even days with scarcely a -respite, but he could also help himself to large measures of loafing. A -magazine, with its incessant inflow of letters and manuscripts, and the -demand which it makes for periodic punctuality, ill befits such a -temper, and Lowell found a good deal of irksomeness in his daily task. -“I used to be able to answer letters in the month during which I -received them,” he wrote ruefully to Mr. White, 6 April, 1859, “but now -they pile up and make a jam behind the boom of my occupations, till they -carry everything before them, and after a little confused whirling float -placidly down to the ocean of Oblivion. I do not know if it be so with -everybody,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_442" id="page_442">{442}</a></span> but with me the perpetual <i>chance</i> of interruption to which -I am liable induces a kind of stolid despair. I am afraid that at this -moment there are at least a hundred and fifty unanswered letters in and -on and round my desk, whose blank [looks] seem to say ‘how long?’ Your -letter came just in the midst of a bother in the <i>Atlantic</i>, which it -took all my diplomacy to settle so that both sides should not bite their -own noses off, to which mad meal they had violent appetites. It is all -‘fixed’ now, and things go smoothly again—but meanwhile the hiatus in -my correspondence grew daily wider.”</p> - -<p>“I am at last even with my manuscripts,” he wrote to another friend. “It -is splendid. Such a heap as had gathered. It had snowed poems and tales -and essays, and an eddy had drifted them into my study knee-deep. But I -have shovelled myself out, and hope ’tis the last great storm of the -season. I even found time to go to Dresel’s concert last evening, where -I saw one of your cousins. The concert was nearly all Mendelssohn and -seemed to me a little vague and cloudy—beautiful clouds, rose tinted -and—indefinite. I longed for a good riving flash of Italian lightning. -Fanny liked it, however, but I was rather bored. It seemed to me like -reading manuscripts titillated with promise continually and finding no -egregious and satisfying fulfilment.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t come this way again,” he writes to Mr. White, “without letting me -know you are coming. I want a talk with you, and I can’t talk by -letter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_443" id="page_443">{443}</a></span> for I can’t write them when I am tired, and I am tired all the -time. If there be any truth in the doctrine of compensations, the -bobolinks in some other stage of existence will all be caged in Grub -Street and made editors. They are altogether too happy here. Well, maybe -we shall be bobolinks. If ever we should be, I can show you a fine -meadow for building in, a kind of grassy Venice with good tussock -foundations jutting everywhere from the water.”</p> - -<p>After something more than a year’s experience, he wrote to Mr. Norton: -“I am resolved that no motive of my own comfort or advantage shall -influence me, but I hate the turmoil of such affairs, despise the -notoriety they give one, and long for the day when I can be vacant to -the Muses and to my books for their own sakes. I cannot stand the worry -of it much longer without a lieutenant. To have questions of style, -grammar, and punctuation in other people’s articles to decide, while I -want all my concentration for what I am writing myself—to have added to -this personal appeals, from ill-mannered correspondents whose articles -have been declined, to attend to—to sit at work sometimes fifteen hours -a day, as I have done lately—makes me nervous, takes away my pluck, -compels my neglecting my friends, and induces the old fits of the -blues.”<a name="FNanchor_127_127" id="FNanchor_127_127"></a><a href="#Footnote_127_127" class="fnanchor">[127]</a></p> - -<p>“If my letters seem dry,” he wrote again to Mr. White, “it is no fault -of mine. I am overworked and overworried and overinterrupted. I <i>can’t</i> -write<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_444" id="page_444">{444}</a></span> a genial letter, but I want you and like you all the same. If -ever I get back to my old nest among the trees at Elmwood, and I am no -longer professor or editor, with time enough to follow up a doubtful -passage in Shakespeare or a bit of dilettante philology,—then what -pleasure I should have in corresponding with you and exchanging thoughts -and suggestions. But now, if anything occurs to me, I feel too tired to -communicate it to anybody, for my days are so broken that I am forced -sometimes to sit up till the birds sing to get any time for my own -studies.”</p> - -<p>In one point of excellence Lowell was exceedingly particular. He told me -once in later life, when we were discussing a proposed reissue of the -British Poets, of which he was to be editor-in-chief, that I must not -think he would accept any one’s proof-reading but his own. “I am really -a very careful proof-reader,” he said, “though people fancy I am too -indolent for such work.” In a letter to Mr. Norton, 18 October, 1859, -presaging some changes, he writes: “As to proofs, I <i>must</i> read those -myself, or I don’t feel safe. Yet a piece of bad grammar got into the -October number in spite of Mr. Nichols and me together.” He had, indeed, -a most admirable aid in Mr. George Nichols, who was a vigilant officer, -carrying a search warrant for any and all literary misdemeanors. The -<i>Atlantic</i> at this time was printed at Riverside, and there is a -charming description, in a letter which Mr. Norton prints,<a name="FNanchor_128_128" id="FNanchor_128_128"></a><a href="#Footnote_128_128" class="fnanchor">[128]</a> of the -morning<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_445" id="page_445">{445}</a></span> walk which Lowell was wont to take to the Press by the footpath -that lay along the river bank.</p> - -<p>The pressure upon Lowell, which his college work and his editorship -brought, did, during these four years, stop, somewhat, his spontaneity. -He wrote but few poems, and his letters show the effort he needed to -make to force some gayety. “I am that man among mortals,” he wrote to -Miss Norton, “whose friends must forgive him the most treasons against -friendship,—silence, staying away, dulness when he writes or comes—and -I know not what else,—yet I do believe that my heart holds fire as long -as another, and that I neither grow cool nor forget sooner than most. I -cannot write unless I feel as if I could give the best part of myself to -those who deserve it best, and I am so forever busy that I am either -employed or weary, and who can write then? I believe that none but an -idle man can write a good letter. I mean by idle, a man who is not under -the necessity of tapping his brain on the public side, and tapping so -freely that the runnings on the other cannot be sprightly for want of -<i>head</i>. This is why women are such good letter-writers. Their ordinary -employments do not suck them dry of all communicativeness,—I can’t -think of any other word,—and their writing is their play, as it should -be. As for me, nowadays, taking up my pen is only the reminder of work. -This that I write with is one worn to a stump with my lectures three -years—four years ago. I would not write with the same one I had used -for Mr. Cushing and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_446" id="page_446">{446}</a></span> drudgery. So the fault is not in the quill that I -am stupid. If I had only been laid away in a drawer these four years, as -it had been! What a fury I should be in to declare myself on all manner -of topics! But this exhaustion one feels from overwork extends itself to -the receptive faculties as well. A dry sponge floats and is long in -saturating. The mind, I think, goes even beyond this—it must be <i>full</i> -to take up more.”</p> - -<p>The diversions which Lowell found in this period were not many. He made -his yearly excursion to the Adirondacks, always looking forward eagerly -to it, and working furiously just before home-leaving, that he might go -with some serenity of mind. He saw scarcely anything of social life in -Cambridge or Boston;<a name="FNanchor_129_129" id="FNanchor_129_129"></a><a href="#Footnote_129_129" class="fnanchor">[129]</a> he went frequently to Shady Hill, the home of -the Nortons, but nowhere else to speak of, and he found true relaxation -in his whist club. Aside from all this, he derived most entertainment -from the very informal clubs, with their dinners, which had sprung -chiefly out of the establishment of the <i>Atlantic</i>. For a short time, -apparently, there were two of these loose organizations, the Atlantic -Club, so called, which was the gathering of the contributors at dinner, -under the auspices of the publishers, during the first months of strong -interest,—dinners which seem to have sprung from the little one given -by Mr. Phillips<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_447" id="page_447">{447}</a></span> at the institution of the magazine; and the Saturday -Club, which still survives, a dining club, made up at first chiefly of -literary men naturally connected with the <i>Atlantic</i>, and of congenial -spirits, some of whom never and some rarely contributed. This latter -club appears, after a while, to have supplanted the former. “Dined with -the <i>Atlantic Monthly</i> people,” Longfellow writes in his diary, 21 -December, 1857, and again, 14 May, 1859, “Dined with the Atlantic Club, -at Fondarivés’s. The ‘Atlantic’ is not the ‘Saturday’ club, though many -members belong to both;” and on 9 July, 1859, he again notes that he -dined with the Atlantic Club at the Revere House, but the references -cease at this point, and the club dinners which he attends afterward are -Saturday Club dinners, held on the last Saturday of the month at -Parker’s Hotel. Dr. Holmes also, in later years, found the flourishing -Saturday Club so constant in his recollection that he was disposed to -deny the existence of any Atlantic Club. Properly speaking there never -was any club, but only occasional dinners to which contributors were -invited by the publishers. It was of one of the Saturday Club dinners -that Lowell wrote 11 October, 1858: “You were good enough to tell me I -might give you an account of our dinner. There at least was a topic, but -I find that when I am full of work, I do not see the men I go among, but -only shadows which make no impression. It is odd that when one’s mind is -excited by writing so that one cannot sleep, one should see in the same -way a constant succession<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_448" id="page_448">{448}</a></span> of figures without really seeing them. They -come and change and go without any dependence on the will, without any -relation to the preoccupying thought.</p> - -<p>“I remember one good thing at our last dinner. The dinner was for -Stillman, and I proposed that Judge Hoar should propose his health in a -speech. ‘<i>Sir!</i>’ (a long pause) ‘in what I have already said, I believe -I speak the sentiments of every gentleman present, and lest I should -fail to do so in what I might further say’—(another pause) ‘I sit -down.’ And two days before at Agassiz’—the Autocrat giving an account -of his having learned the fiddle, his brother John who sat opposite, -exclaimed, ‘I can testify to it; he has often fiddled me out of the -house as Orpheus did Eurydice out of the infernal regions.’ Isn’t that -good? It makes me laugh to look at it now that I have written it down. -The Autocrat relating how Simmons the Oak Hall man had sent him the two -finest pears—‘of trowsers?’ interrupted somebody. But can one send -poured-out Champagne all the way to Newport, and hope that one bubble -will burst after it gets there to tell what it used to be? A dinner is -never a good thing the next day. For the moment, though, what is better? -We dissolve our pearls and drink them nobly—if we have them—but bring -none away. A good talk is almost as much out of the question among -clever men as among men who think themselves clever. Creation in pairs -proves the foreordained superiority of the <i>tête-a-tête</i>. Nevertheless, -we live and dine and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_449" id="page_449">{449}</a></span> die.” And a few months later he recorded a bit -about a dinner of the Atlantic people, which has had more than one -raconteur. “Our dinner the other day was very pleasant. Only Mrs. Stowe -and Miss Prescott, author of ‘In a Cellar.’ She is very nice and bright. -Mrs. Stowe would not let us have any wine, and I told her that I was -sorry she should deprive herself of so many pleasant dinners in England -(whither she goes 3d August) by so self-denying an ordinance. She <i>took</i> -at once, colored a little, laughed, and asked me to order some -champagne.”</p> - -<p>Perhaps the very necessity for constant criticism, whether unrecorded, -as where he determined the grounds for acceptance and rejection of -manuscripts, or in his correspondence with contributors, and his own -articles in the magazine, tended to stimulate Lowell’s critical faculty. -At any rate, in the midst of his busy hours he would now and then yield -to the impulse, created by some current publication it may be, and give -expression to judgments, either publicly or in his letters to friends. -Thus his interest in “The Minister’s Wooing” led him not only into -writing the letter to Mrs. Stowe, already noticed, but into a careful, -unsigned analysis of Mrs. Stowe’s power in the <i>New York Tribune</i>.<a name="FNanchor_130_130" id="FNanchor_130_130"></a><a href="#Footnote_130_130" class="fnanchor">[130]</a></p> - -<p>In August, 1859, Mr. Phillips, the publisher, died. Lowell characterized -him as a man of great energy and pluck; but during the months previ<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_450" id="page_450">{450}</a></span>ous -to his death Mr. Phillips had by no means been in sound health, and had -fretted much over complications in his affairs. He seems to have had -reason, for a few weeks after the death of Mr. Phillips, the firm of -Phillips & Sampson suspended payment, and went into the hands of an -assignee, Mr. Harvey Jewell. “What is to come, or why they have done -it,” Lowell wrote to Mr. Norton, “I cannot conjecture. I trust -arrangements will be made to put the <i>Atlantic</i> in good hands. <i>That</i> at -least is a paying thing. If it shall end in my losing the editorship, it -would cause me little regret, for it would leave me more time to -myself.” The assignee brought out the October number of the magazine, -pending the settlement of affairs, and there was a lively competition -among publishers to secure the publication. The Harpers proposed to buy -it, to suppress their rival, it was said; there were offers from -Philadelphia, and some of the younger men connected with the firm of -Phillips & Sampson made an effort to establish a new firm which should -buy the whole business of Phillips & Sampson, including the magazine. -Mr. William Lee, who had left a large sum with the firm when he withdrew -from it, was at the time travelling in Europe, and by a series of -mischances did not even learn of the situation till it was too late for -him to have a hand in any reorganization. There was even a plan mooted -by which Lowell and his friends should buy the magazine, but Lowell’s -own judgment was against this. “It ought,” he said, “to be in the hands -of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_451" id="page_451">{451}</a></span> a practical publisher for we should be in danger of running -aground.”</p> - -<p>In the end, Ticknor & Fields bought the magazine. “As friend to friend,” -Lowell wrote to Mr. Norton, I may say that I think it just the best -arrangement possible, though I did not like to say so beforehand too -plainly. I did not wish in any way to stand in ——’s light, but it is -much better as it is. Whether T. will want <i>me</i> or not, is another -question. I suppose that he will think that Fields will make a good -editor, beside saving the salary, and F. may think so too. In certain -respects he would, as the dining editor for example, to look after -authors when they came to Boston and the like. I shall be quite -satisfied, anyhow,—though the salary is a convenience, for I have done -nothing to advance my own private interest in the matter.”</p> - -<p>The break-up of the business of Phillips & Sampson naturally led to the -distribution of their copyright books, and Emerson was one of the -authors publishing with them, who was now considering the transfer of -his books to Ticknor & Fields. “I saw Ticknor yesterday,” Lowell wrote -him, 21 October, 1859, “and he says he wants the magazine to go on as it -has gone. I never talked so long with him before, and the impression he -gave was that of a man very shrewd in business after it is once in -train, but very inert of judgment. I rather think Fields is captain when -at home.<a name="FNanchor_131_131" id="FNanchor_131_131"></a><a href="#Footnote_131_131" class="fnanchor">[131]</a> My opinion about your book is this. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_452" id="page_452">{452}</a></span> book is a sure -one at any rate, and if Little & Brown publish it, they will sell copies -to all who would buy anything of yours at any rate. They are eminently -respectable and trustworthy. Ticknor would have of course the same -chance to start on that L. & B. would have, but I should think it -natural that he would be able to sell more copies because the <i>kind</i> of -book he publishes is rather less of the library-completing sort than -those of L. & B., and because (I suppose) he has correspondents who -always take a certain number of his books whether or no. In short, it -seems to me that his chances in the way of distribution and putting the -volume on many counters and under many eyes are the best. With an author -like you this is not much, but it is something....</p> - -<p>“I have quite a prize in the December number—the story of a real -filibuster written by himself.<a name="FNanchor_132_132" id="FNanchor_132_132"></a><a href="#Footnote_132_132" class="fnanchor">[132]</a> It is well done and will interest -you. I wish to get together a few of our chief tritons at a dinner soon -to make them acquainted with the new Poseidon. Will you come? At -Porter’s or Parker’s, whichever you prefer, and as early as you like so -that you may get back to Concord.”</p> - -<p>After Mr. Fields returned from Europe the question of the editorship -came up anew. The times were lowering, every one who had ventures was -taking in sail, Mr. Fields had been the editorial member of the book -firm, his relations with authors both at home and abroad were of the -most<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_453" id="page_453">{453}</a></span> friendly nature, and it was thus most reasonable and natural that -he should take charge of the <i>Atlantic</i>, and Lowell resigned the -editorship in a half-serious, half-whimsical letter which Mr. Norton has -printed.<a name="FNanchor_133_133" id="FNanchor_133_133"></a><a href="#Footnote_133_133" class="fnanchor">[133]</a> It is clear that he had a divided mind. He had become so -far wonted to his work that he had less anxiety in performing it, and he -had an honest pride in maintaining the high standard which his own taste -and judgment had created. He was glad also of the greater ease in money -matters which the salary gave; and yet, as his letters show, he welcomed -the freedom from the daily exactions of the editorial life, and the -return to the more self-determined occupation which he had known most of -his days.</p> - -<p>Yet in editing the <i>Atlantic</i>, Lowell was more or less consciously -reënforcing the love of literature which commanded him, and the combined -labor of academic study and teaching and the organization of literature -undoubtedly enriched his life, and made him more ready for the large -enterprises which lay before him.</p> - -<p>It was a great reënforcement of contentment that he had returned to his -old home at Elmwood. There had been some talk of his taking the house -which Professor Felton was to give up on getting a new one, but -arrangement was made, finally, to go back to Elmwood, and there the new -establishment was set up with Dr. Lowell and Miss Rebecca Lowell as -joint occupants. This was a few months before Lowell retired from the -editorship of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_454" id="page_454">{454}</a></span> <i>Atlantic</i>, and his content appears in a letter which -he was writing to Mr. Richard Grant White, 15 March, 1861: “We are -having,” he says, “the finest snowstorm of the winter. And what a -delight to me to be here in my old garret at Elmwood, no college to go -to (it is Saturday), sheltered by the very wings of the storm, and shut -in from all the world by this white cloud of peace let down from heaven! -The great chimney stacks roar a deep bass like Harlaem organ pipes. The -old lightning rod thumps and rattles with every gust, as I used to hear -it so long ago when there were no colleges nor magazines, nor any world -outside our belt of pines. I am at <i>home</i> again. I like everything and -everybody. Presently I shall draw on my Canada leggings and wade down to -the post with this. I shall come back full of snow and northwest wind -and appetite. I shall sit down at my own table in the old familiar room -where I hope to welcome you one of these days.”<a name="FNanchor_134_134" id="FNanchor_134_134"></a><a href="#Footnote_134_134" class="fnanchor">[134]</a></p> - -<p>In his L’Envoi, “To the Muse,” which appears to have been written not -far from this time, he has some bright reflections on the elusiveness of -the spirit of poetry which beckoned him. In point of fact there was very -little poetry written by him while he was at once professor and editor. -His “Biglow Papers” had been republished in England, with an -Introduction by T. Hughes. His old friend, Mr. Gay, was in England at -the time and had a hand in the business. The publication natu<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_455" id="page_455">{455}</a></span>rally drew -fresh attention to Lowell’s satiric verse, and he wrote, a trifle -piqued: “I confess I am a little jealous of people who like my humorous -poems best. I guess they are right ‘up to date,’ but I feel also as if -it were a little unfair to t’other half of me, which has not fairly -worked itself free so as to combine—here I was interrupted day before -yesterday, and I believe I was going to say—so as to combine the -results of life with those of study. However, I grow more and more -persuaded that what a man is is of greater consequence than what he -<i>does</i>, especially than what he writes. The secret is, I suppose, to -work oneself out clear so that what he is may be one with what he -writes.”</p> - -<p class="fint">END OF VOLUME I</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_456" id="page_456">{456}</a></span></p> - -<p class="c"><span class="eng"> -The Riverside Press</span><br /> -<i>Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.</i><br /> -<i>Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A.</i><br /> -</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="cb">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See Appendix A, The Lowell Ancestry.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> In 1853 Dr. Lowell contemplated the publication of a volume -of sermons, and his then associate, Dr. Bartol, wrote privately to the -son, discouraging the venture. He had not the heart openly to oppose Dr. -Lowell. “I know,” he writes, “I can trust you to understand me fully -when I say it is my persuasion and that of true and strong friends of -your father in the parish, that a volume could never overtake his actual -reputation, that what is best in him, his voice, his look, his manner, -<i>himself</i>, cannot be printed, and that his peculiar glory is one that -should scarcely be touched with ink.” There did appear, however, in 1855 -a volume by Dr. Lowell, entitled <i>Sermons; chiefly Occasional</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <i>Alongside</i>, by Mrs. Caroline H. Dall. Privately printed.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> “My grandmother,” Lowell once said, “was a loyalist to her -death, and whenever Independence Day came round, instead of joining in -the general rejoicing, she would dress in deep black, fast all day, and -loudly lament ‘our late unhappy differences with his most gracious -Majesty.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> In a review of <i>the Book of British Ballads</i> in <i>The -Pioneer</i>, Lowell says: “And the dear ‘Annie of Lochroyan,’ too, made -thrice dear to us by the often hearing it from lips that gave an -original beauty of their own to whatever they recited.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> He was named after his father’s maternal grandfather, Judge -James Russell, of Charlestown.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Robert Traill Spence Lowell was graduated at Harvard -College in 1833. He became an Episcopal clergyman in 1842, went shortly -after as a missionary to Newfoundland, had a parish later in New Jersey, -then took the headmastership of S. Mark’s School, Southborough, Mass., -and finally was called to the chair of Latin language and literature in -Union College. He remained in Schenectady till his death, 12 September, -1891, just a month after the death of his younger brother. He had a -distinct literary gift, and published several books, which were the -outcome of his life in its varied scenes. <i>The New Priest in Conception -Bay</i> has vivid pictures of Newfoundland, and contains one character, -Elnathan Bangs, who is as racy a Yankee in his own way as Hosea Biglow -himself. The book unfortunately was published by Philips & Sampson just -as Mr. Phillips died and the firm went into bankruptcy, and lost thus -the advantage of a good start. It was revived a good many years later, -but never enjoyed the vogue it might have had. Mr. Lowell’s experiences -at S. Mark’s lay behind a story for schoolboys, <i>Antony Brade</i>, and his -life in Schenectady suggested <i>A Story or Two from an Old Dutch Town.</i> -He published also <i>Fresh Hearts that Failed Three Thousand Years Ago, -and Other Poems</i>, a book which his brother had the pleasure of reviewing -in the <i>Atlantic</i>. His best known poem, “The Relief of Lucknow,” -appeared also in the <i>Atlantic</i>, under his brother’s editorship.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Mary Traill Spence Lowell was born 3 December, 1810, was -married to Samuel Raymond Putnam, 25 April, 1832, and died in Boston, 1 -June, 1898. She was a woman of intellectual power and literary -accomplishment. She chose to write anonymously, but the books she wrote, -<i>Records of an Obscure Man</i>, <i>The Tragedy of Errors</i>, <i>Fifteen Days</i>, -and <i>The Tragedy of Success</i>, though remote from the current of popular -taste in her day, not only disclose a most thoughtful nature, and one -profoundly interested in great subjects of racial and philosophical -moment, but not infrequently are exceedingly felicitous in expression.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> In a lecture on Spenser, given in 1856, Lowell said, “<i>The -Faery Queene</i> was the first poem I ever read, and I had no suspicion of -any double meaning in it.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> “An Epistle to George William Curtis,” 1874.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> <i>Conversations on Some of the Old Poets</i>, pp. 170, 171.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Said at the commemoration of the one hundred and fiftieth -anniversary of the foundation of the West Church, Boston, 1887.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> <i>The Power of Sound: a rhymed lecture</i>, pp. 22, 23.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> “<span class="lftspc">’</span>Tis near midnight, and I hear a bass-drum, kettle-drum -and fife in the distance, playing the dear old <i>boongalang</i> tune of my -earliest days, the very one to which General Gage marched out of Boston. -It is delightful. I think it is the noise Wagner is always trying to -make and failing.”—J. R. L. to C. E. Norton, 16 April, 1889.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> “Books and Libraries” in <i>Literary and Political -Addresses, Works</i>, vi. 83.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> <i>Latest Literary Essays and Addresses</i>, p. 43.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> <i>Literary and Political Addresses</i>, pp. 69, 70.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> Mr. Shackford did not live to continue his friendship with -Lowell. He died in 1842.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> The Hasty Pudding Club, a Harvard students’ club, which -has always made much of literature of the lighter sort, its specialty -now being amateur theatricals.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> “Thoreau,” in <i>Literary Essays</i>, i. 366.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> There is a letter from Mrs. Anna Cabot Lowell, 3 July, -1838, to her brother-in-law, which throws a little light on the way in -which his friends regarded Lowell at this time: “Aunt S. was here last -evening and depicted in a lively manner the grief of Scates for your -idle courses. She says he went to you with tears in his eyes to implore -you to persevere, and that he told his friends in faltering accents that -you had but this one fault in the world. Being desirous to know the -exact nature of that fault, that you might apply the specific remedy, I -asked her what the fault was. She said ‘indolence to be sure: indolence -and the Spence negligence.’ I quote her very words. My opinion of the -case is that it proceeds more from negligence than indolence, and more -from a blind confidence in your powers and your destiny than either.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> <i>Letters</i>, ii. 302.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> It was not uncommon in those days and long after for a -student to take his degree at the Law School after a year or two only of -study and then to continue to hear lectures. Lowell’s name is on the -catalogue of the school for the year following his degree.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> William Page, the artist, whom Lowell first knew through -the Whites.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> “Goethe’s poetic sense was the Minotaur to which he -sacrificed everything. To make a study he would soil the maiden petals -of a woman’s soul.”—“Lessing,” in <i>Literary Essays</i>, ii. 195.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> It is very likely under the impetus given by Maria White -that Lowell took a place as delegate to the Anti-Slavery Convention held -in Boston, 17 November, 1840.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> <i>Letters</i>, i. 67-69.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> <i>James Russell Lowell and His Friends</i>, pp. 72-76.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> “I have enjoyed the society of my fair cousin Maria very -much. She has shown me several of James’s letters, and I think I never -saw such perfect specimens of <i>love-letters</i>,—those in any novel you -ever read are perfectly indifferent compared to them. Without being -silly in the least, they are full of all the fervor and extatification -which you would expect from the most ardent lover.”—L. L. Thaxter to T. -W. Higginson, 19 January, 1842.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> “I am obliged to stay at home whenever Father goes to -Boston, and as he usually goes thither on the four first days of the -week, I am rather closely prisoned.”—J. R. L. to R. Carter, 31 -December, 1843.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> Thomas W. White, the editor.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> The sonnet, “To the Spirit of Keats,” was the first of the -two; the other was “Sunset and Moonshine,” not retained by the poet in -his final collection.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> “[Mrs. Longfellow] was the first stranger that ever said a -kind word to me about my poems. She spoke to me of my <i>Year’s Life</i>, -then just published. I had then just emerged from the darkest and -unhappiest period of my life, and was peculiarly sensitive to sympathy. -My volume, I knew, was crude and immature, and did not do me justice; -but I knew also that there was a <i>heart</i> in it, and I was grateful for -her commendation.”—J. R. L. to H. W. Longfellow, 13 August, 1845.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> “Especially grateful is the praise of one in whose -conversation I have marked a hearty appreciation of those greatest -reformers, our glorious old English Poets.”—J. R. L. to Robert Carter, -2 September, 1842.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> Mr. Woodberry, in editing “Lowell’s Letters to Poe,” in -<i>Scribner’s Monthly</i> for August, 1894, explains the situation thus: “The -contract bound Lowell and Carter to furnish the publishers five thousand -copies on the twentieth of each month under a penalty of five hundred -dollars in case of failure and the publishers to take that number at a -certain price. The March number was eight days late, and the publishers, -in the face of what was probably seen to be an unfortunate speculation, -claimed the forfeit but offered to waive it if the contract should be -altered so as to require them to take only so many copies as they could -sell. The result was that the editors were obliged to stop printing from -a lack of credit, and were left with a large indebtedness for -manufacture as well as to contributors. It appears from Poe’s letters -that he was paid his small claim a year later.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> Carter had just been to see Maria White.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> “The Maiden’s Death.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> In a letter written after he had at last seen Miss White, -Mr. Briggs writes: “I hardly know what I could say to M. W. unless what -I felt inclined to when I saw her, ‘<i>Sancta Maria, ora pro nobis</i>.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> “L’Envoi,” beginning -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“whether my heart hath wiser grown or not.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> <i>The Broadway Journal</i>, which Mr. Briggs was just -projecting.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> Mr. Briggs had written to Lowell: “I suppose that you are -going to impose upon yourselves the heathenish ceremonies of a wedding, -and in the most solemn period of your lives, give yourselves up to the -most foolish of all the world’s follies. Tut! you will be sick of white -satins and raisins for the next century. Is’t the first of the month -that you are to be married? I would like to know the day that I may keep -you in remembrance. Page will be here and I will have him down to -Bishop’s Terrace, and we will keep it up with becoming solemnity. One of -my darling fowls shall be sacrificed.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> The exact succession of his books was <i>A Year’s Life</i>, -1841; <i>Poems</i>, 1843 (dated 1844); <i>Conversations on Some of the Old -Poets</i>, 1845.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> Mr. Evert A. Duyckinck, in March, 1846, replying to a -suggestion by Lowell of “specimens of old translators” for Wiley & -Putnam’s Library, doubts the practicability, but adds, “You will, I -hope, not lose sight of so good a topic which might provoke a new -conversation between yourself and your Mrs. Harris (Philip and John) -very profitably.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> <i>Letters</i>, i. 69.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> See Appendix B.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> Editor of <i>Graham’s Magazine</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_47_47" id="Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> <i>Nathaniel Hawthorne and his Wife</i>, i. 283.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_48_48" id="Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> The circumstances pertaining to the close of Mr. Briggs’s -connection with <i>The Broadway Journal</i> are detailed with some -particularity in letters from Mr. Briggs to Lowell, printed in Mr. G. E. -Woodberry’s <i>Edgar Allan Poe</i> in the <i>American Men of Letters</i> series. -See pp. 234-239.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_49_49" id="Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> Lowell’s letters to Poe may be found in an article with -that title, edited by Mr. Woodberry, and printed in <i>Scribner’s -Magazine</i>, August, 1894. Those of Poe to Lowell appear in Mr. -Woodberry’s volume on Poe in the <i>American Men of Letters</i> series. -Lowell’s letters, which run from 19 November, 1842, when he was -beginning his <i>Pioneer</i> venture, to 12 December, 1844, just before his -marriage, are occupied mainly with solicitation of contributions, -interest in Poe’s work, and efforts at obtaining opportunities for Poe -to lecture in Boston. They have slight value as illustrations of -Lowell’s life, save as they show his eagerness to help a brother author, -and his keen interest in letters.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_50_50" id="Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> It may be noted that at the New England Anti-Slavery -Convention held in Boston, 28 May, 1844, the issue of disunion was -plainly presented in a set of resolutions. The vote stood 250 in favor -to 24 in dissent. Among the number who voted “nay” were James Russell -Lowell and Maria White. See <i>William Lloyd Garrison</i>, iii. 111, 112.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_51_51" id="Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> For a striking use of the poem, see <i>infra</i>, vol. ii. p. -137.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_52_52" id="Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> But his talk went on as unrestrictedly as ever. Longfellow -records in his diary under date of 23 October, 1845: “Lowell passed the -morning with me. Amiable enthusiast! He proposes to write a book in -favor of fanaticism.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_53_53" id="Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> It is a comment on Lowell’s indifference to wealth that -his imagination did not take fire at the announcement of the discovery -of gold in California. It may be said that his mind was directed toward -the immediate political consequences, but he had occasion to write upon -the subject of the discovery, when this alone engaged his attention. He -was struck with some of the picturesque situations, but his reflections -were mainly summed up in these words: “We have never seen anything like -the accounts from California since we read that chapter of <i>Candide</i>, in -which Voltaire carries his hero to El Dorado. Supposing all we hear to -be true, it is hardly probable that gold will continue to be found there -in such large quantities for any great length of time. It will doubtless -become more and more scarce, and the difficulty of obtaining it greater. -After all, the gold mines which give the surest and richest yield are -the brain and the common earth. The discovery of a new fertilizer is of -more practical benefit than that of the philosopher’s stone would be; -the invention of the steam-engine has created more wealth than the -richest gold mines; and wise men are not wanting who believe that -Fourier has given us something better than a California. And why travel -fifteen thousand miles around Cape Horn for a place to dig in? Heaven -knows the earth wants more washing here than at Sacramento River. -Moreover, every one of us has a vein more or less profitable, if it were -only diligently worked.”—“Eldorado,” in <i>National Anti-Slavery -Standard</i>, 21 December, 1848.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_54_54" id="Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> Mr. Briggs was highly entertained by the French exercise, -and asked: “Who is your master? But never mind. Let me recommend you to -an incomparable one who had the honor of teaching Talleyrand a new -language (English) to help him conceal his thoughts. I mean Cobbett. If -you have never seen his French grammar, get it by all means and read it, -if you do not study it; and then read his English grammar, which you -will find more amusing than the Comic Latin Grammar.” Lowell does not -seem to have followed his advice immediately. At least he wrote to me -three or four years before his death: “I never read any English grammar -in my life, thank God, except Cobbett’s a few years ago, and in that I -found errors of ignorance,—as was to be expected.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_55_55" id="Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> At the close of 1866 a testimonial was presented to Mr. -Garrison when he retired from active service, and Lowell was the medium -of certain English subscriptions, among them that of John Bright. In -sending this Lowell writes to Mr. Garrison: “Nothing could have been -more in keeping with the uniform wisdom of your anti-slavery leadership -than the time you chose for resigning it.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_56_56" id="Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> It is greatly to be regretted that the important -correspondence of Quincy and Lowell does not exist. By agreement each -destroyed the letters of the other.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_57_57" id="Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> The curious reader may see here one of the little -idiosyncrasies in which Lowell indulged throughout his life, though this -is one of the first instances I have noted.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_58_58" id="Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> Mr. Gay had written: “I do not know how you feel about the -Imprint, but my own opinion is that there had better be either no name, -or only one there. Every one will know that yourself, Mrs. Chapman and -Quincy and Briggs and others contribute to its columns. The more we can -make believe contribute to it the better, and to put three or four names -in the Imprint will seem to limit the number. I wish that all its -readers shall believe that a variety of people have had a hand in the -making up of every number, and not only those whose names are before -them. For the same reason I wish that the initial system shall be done -with. The readers will be prone to believe the best if they are not -certain, and if there are none of these ‘small caps,’ as the printers -say, to guide, they may sometimes be humbugged into eating my chaff for -your and others’ wheat.” Mr. Gay had his way at first, but before long -his readers’ curiosity drove him into the use of initials as -signatures.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_59_59" id="Footnote_59_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> See <i>Letters of James Russell Lowell</i>, i. 111-116. -Copyright, 1893, by Harper & Brothers.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_60_60" id="Footnote_60_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> A little of this jest is preserved in Parson Wilbur’s note -to the second <i>Biglow paper</i>, as published in book form.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_61_61" id="Footnote_61_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> In his address on “The Place of the Independent in -Politics,” delivered forty years later, Lowell pithily says: “A moral -purpose multiplies us (Independents) by ten, as it multiplied the early -Abolitionists. They emancipated the negro; and we mean to emancipate the -respectable white man.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_62_62" id="Footnote_62_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> There is a reference to Jefferson in a letter written ten -years later, which is interesting as one of the rare apprizements by -Lowell of American public men. “I have run through Randall’s <i>Jefferson</i> -with the ends of my fingers—a perfect chaos of biography—but enough to -confirm me in the belief that Jefferson was the first <i>American</i> man. I -doubt if we have produced a better thinker or writer. His style is -admirable in general, warmed with just enough enthusiasm for eloquence, -not too much for conviction.”—J. R. L. to C. E. Norton, 11 October, -1858.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_63_63" id="Footnote_63_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> “A steam-engine in breeches,” was Sydney Smith’s -characterization.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_64_64" id="Footnote_64_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> <i>Letters</i>, i. 157, 21 May, 1849.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_65_65" id="Footnote_65_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> Dr. Lowell’s course in this matter was characteristic of -his fine sense of honor. Previous to the ordination of his colleague, -Dr. Bartol, 1 March, 1837, he received from the West Church Society a -salary of $2000 a year. At a meeting of the proprietors held 22 April, -1849, a letter was read from Dr. Lowell, in which he says: “It was -always a favorite object with me, in the event of the settlement of a -colleague pastor, to resign the whole of my salary, or at most, to -retain only a small portion of it, that you might have less hesitation -in calling upon me for the services I might be able to render you.” It -was with great reluctance, he added, that he then came to the conclusion -it was his duty to accede to the request of the proprietors and retain -all the salary he had been accustomed to receive; now he could do so no -longer, and he insisted respectfully on an arrangement by which he -should resign a quarter of his salary, “with the purpose at no distant -day, if Providence permit, of resigning a further sum.” In 1854 Dr. -Lowell resigned the whole of his salary, but the Society declined to -accept the proposal.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_66_66" id="Footnote_66_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> “I do not blame Foster or Philbrick or Jackson for not -being satisfied with me; but, on the other hand, I thank God that he has -gradually taught me to be quite satisfied with <i>them</i>.”—<i>Letters</i>, i. -157.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_67_67" id="Footnote_67_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> Cornelius Matthews.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_68_68" id="Footnote_68_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_68_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> The greater part of this letter will be found in <i>Letters -of James Russell Lowell</i>, i. 120. Copyright by Harper & Brothers, 1893.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_69_69" id="Footnote_69_69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_69_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> The reference apparently is to Miss Fuller’s criticism of -Lowell three years previously, in which she said: “His interest in the -moral questions of the day has supplied the want of vitality in himself; -his great facility at versification has enabled him to fill the ear with -a copious stream of pleasant sound. But his verse is stereotyped: his -thoughts sound no depth, and posterity will not remember him.”—<i>Papers -on Literature and Art</i>, p. 308.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_70_70" id="Footnote_70_70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_70_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> Briggs did not like Bryant, and in this he was abetted by -Page, to whom Bryant at this time was sitting. Page was angry because, -in the brief notice of Lowell’s <i>Poems</i> which Bryant wrote, he commended -only the “Morning Glory,” which was Mrs. Lowell’s, and because Bryant -intimated that Lowell’s “To the Past” was suggested by a poem of his own -with the same title.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_71_71" id="Footnote_71_71"></a><a href="#FNanchor_71_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></a> This was the year of General Taylor’s nomination.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_72_72" id="Footnote_72_72"></a><a href="#FNanchor_72_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></a> In a letter to me about the <i>Fable</i> written in 1890, -Lowell says: “Mr. Putnam, I believe, never discovered that the -title-page was in metre, nor that it was in rhyme either. Mr. Norton -told me the other day that he had a copy of some later edition (after -Putnam had changed his place of business), in which the imprint was ‘G. -P. Putnam, Astor (or something) Place.’ I don’t remember whether I knew -of it at the time, but had I known, I should have let it pass as adding -to the humor of the book.” The first title-page ended -</p> - -<p class="c"> -<span class="smcap">Set forth in</span><br /> -<i>October, the 31st day, in the year ’48</i><br /> -<small>G. P. PUTNAM, BROADWAY.</small><br /> -</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_73_73" id="Footnote_73_73"></a><a href="#FNanchor_73_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></a> Hunt’s poem again doubtless owed its being to Lord Byron’s -<i>English Bards and Scotch Reviewers</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_74_74" id="Footnote_74_74"></a><a href="#FNanchor_74_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></a> Morse’s <i>Life and Letters of Oliver Wendell Holmes</i>, ii. -107. In an unfinished letter to Dr. Holmes written from Madrid in 1878, -Lowell refers to a recent criticism of Holmes’s poems, in which the -characterization in the <i>Fable</i> was quoted. “I thought the young fellow -who wrote it had some sense, especially as he quoted something I said of -you in my impudence thirty years ago. It is an awful thought, but these -who then were passing out of the baldness of infancy are now entering -upon that of middle age, and here we both are as if nothing had -happened. And probably precious little has happened,—I mean of any -great account. The more one reads of history the more one sees mankind -doing the same foolish things over again with admirable gravity and then -contemplating themselves with the satisfaction of Jack Horner. I -remember when I was writing the <i>Fable for Critics</i> and used to walk up -and down the front walk at Elmwood, I paused to watch the ant-hills, and -in the seemingly aimless and yet ceaseless activity of their citizens -thought I saw a very close paraphrase of the life of men.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_75_75" id="Footnote_75_75"></a><a href="#FNanchor_75_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></a> The Bibliographical Note in the Appendix gives the dates -of the successive numbers. See Appendix C.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_76_76" id="Footnote_76_76"></a><a href="#FNanchor_76_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> When he was supervising the final <i>Riverside</i> edition of -his writings, he gladly accepted the services of a graduate student at -Harvard, now Professor of Law in Western Reserve University, Mr. Frank -Beverly Williams, who prepared a series of notes.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_77_77" id="Footnote_77_77"></a><a href="#FNanchor_77_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></a> Mr. Otis died October 28. “Only think of H. G. O!” wrote -Lowell to Gay early in November; “I would not have squibbed him if I had -known he was sick, but I never hear anything.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_78_78" id="Footnote_78_78"></a><a href="#FNanchor_78_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></a> Writing forty years later in excuse of a petty solecism, -he said: “I think it must have been written when I was fresh from the -last <i>Biglow Papers</i>. When my soul enters Mr. Biglow’s person, she -divests herself for the time of all conventional speech, and for some -time after she leaves it is apt to forget herself.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_79_79" id="Footnote_79_79"></a><a href="#FNanchor_79_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></a> He had the ill luck which not infrequently attends the -writers of fiction, to make use of an actual name in one of his -inventions, and received this protest from the Rev. H. Wilbur:— -</p><p> -“Unknown Sir, I believe there is no other clergyman in New England -besides myself of the same name you sometimes associate with your -writings. Perhaps with the scintillations of your genius my name would -be more likely to descend to posterity than from writings or labours of -my own. But if your edification could be as well promoted under the -ministry of Parson Smith or some <i>fictitious</i> name not likely to be -associated with individuality as with the <i>old Parson</i> you will much -oblige yours very respectfully.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_80_80" id="Footnote_80_80"></a><a href="#FNanchor_80_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> He intended first to call this “A June Idyll.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_81_81" id="Footnote_81_81"></a><a href="#FNanchor_81_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> That is, the hostile criticisms of his book.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_82_82" id="Footnote_82_82"></a><a href="#FNanchor_82_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> These letters from Hawthorne were first printed in the -London <i>Athenæum</i>, 10, 17 August, 1889, and have since been included in -vol. xvii. of the <i>Old Manse Edition</i> of Hawthorne’s writings.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_83_83" id="Footnote_83_83"></a><a href="#FNanchor_83_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> An article on Landor.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_84_84" id="Footnote_84_84"></a><a href="#FNanchor_84_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> In a note to T. W. Higginson, who proposed an article in -the <i>Atlantic</i> on Parker, Lowell wrote 28 June, 1860: “I think that -folks have confounded (as they commonly do) <i>force</i> with <i>power</i> in -estimating him, and so have overrated him.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_85_85" id="Footnote_85_85"></a><a href="#FNanchor_85_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> <i>The Liberty Bell.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_86_86" id="Footnote_86_86"></a><a href="#FNanchor_86_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></a> <i>The Homes of the New World: Impressions of America.</i> By -Fredrika Bremer. New York: Harper & Bros. 1853. Vol. i. pp. 130, 131.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_87_87" id="Footnote_87_87"></a><a href="#FNanchor_87_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></a> See <i>Boston Courier</i>, 3 January, 1850.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_88_88" id="Footnote_88_88"></a><a href="#FNanchor_88_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></a> “The Darkened Mind.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_89_89" id="Footnote_89_89"></a><a href="#FNanchor_89_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> Whether or no this started Mr. Gay on an historical -investigation, he did inquire into the matter; for thirty years later he -published in the <i>Atlantic</i> for November, 1881, an article entitled, -“When did the Pilgrim Fathers land at Plymouth?” in which he established -to his own satisfaction that the first landing was neither on the 21st -or 22d, but on the 4th of January, 1621.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_90_90" id="Footnote_90_90"></a><a href="#FNanchor_90_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></a> In another letter written on shipboard, Lowell refers to -the gift thus: “I held it in especial esteem because it was given in a -way so characteristic of John, who sidled up to me as if he were asking -a favor instead of doing one, and having slipped it into my hand in a -particularly let-not-your-right-hand-know-what-your-left-hand-doeth kind -of manner, instantly vanished and remained absconded for half an hour.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_91_91" id="Footnote_91_91"></a><a href="#FNanchor_91_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> <i>Leaves from my Journal, Works</i>, i. 213.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_92_92" id="Footnote_92_92"></a><a href="#FNanchor_92_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></a> It was more than thirty years later that Lowell wrote the -significant poem suggested by this picture.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_93_93" id="Footnote_93_93"></a><a href="#FNanchor_93_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> Mr. Black’s daughter, Mrs. Hayllar, kindly sends the two -prologues, which are in a way wholly from memory. Lowell afterwards, she -writes, “tore up his notes, saying the lines were too insignificant for -preservation, when to his astonishment, my father, who had a quite -remarkable memory, repeated them both to him.” From her own memory Mrs. -Hayllar recalled the bits of the first prologue, and afterward found -amongst her father’s papers the whole of the second.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_94_94" id="Footnote_94_94"></a><a href="#FNanchor_94_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> See “Walter Savage Landor,” in <i>Latest Literary Essays and -Addresses</i>, p. 51.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_95_95" id="Footnote_95_95"></a><a href="#FNanchor_95_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></a> <i>The Poems and Prose Remains of Arthur Hugh Clough</i>, i. -188.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_96_96" id="Footnote_96_96"></a><a href="#FNanchor_96_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></a> Perhaps his partial friend Briggs was referring to this -when he wrote, 18 March, 1860: “If you bring out that long promised -volume of fireside travels, I hope you will not omit that racy chapter -of the novel you read to me, but which you will never write. I think it -was much better than anything of the Autocrat’s that I have read.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_97_97" id="Footnote_97_97"></a><a href="#FNanchor_97_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></a> The lines on pp. 80, 81, of “Cambridge Thirty Years Ago” -are also saved from the same poem, but from the unprinted portion.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_98_98" id="Footnote_98_98"></a><a href="#FNanchor_98_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></a> See his two letters to T. W. Higginson, outlining his -plan, and published by the latter in his <i>Old Cambridge</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_99_99" id="Footnote_99_99"></a><a href="#FNanchor_99_99"><span class="label">[99]</span></a> See letter to Mr. Norton, 13 April, 1884, <i>Letters</i>, ii. -279.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_100_100" id="Footnote_100_100"></a><a href="#FNanchor_100_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></a> “A Few of Lowell’s Letters” in <i>The Old Rome and the New -and other Studies</i>, p. 134.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_101_101" id="Footnote_101_101"></a><a href="#FNanchor_101_101"><span class="label">[101]</span></a> The poem was not printed till April, 1858, when it -appeared in <i>The Atlantic Monthly</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_102_102" id="Footnote_102_102"></a><a href="#FNanchor_102_102"><span class="label">[102]</span></a> It was the custom when there was an unusual demand for -tickets, for the lecturer, besides his Tuesday and Friday evening -discourses, to repeat them on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons. In -those days also, applicants for tickets registered their names during a -certain number of days in advance, and at the close of the registry -notification was made that persons holding numbers divisible by two, -three, four, or five, as the case might be (in the ratio of applicants -to the number of seats in the hall), might call and receive tickets.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_103_103" id="Footnote_103_103"></a><a href="#FNanchor_103_103"><span class="label">[103]</span></a> Probably the verses beginning,— -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Farewell, for the bark has her breast to the tide.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_104_104" id="Footnote_104_104"></a><a href="#FNanchor_104_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></a> “A Good Word for Winter,” in <i>Literary Essays</i>, iii. -267.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_105_105" id="Footnote_105_105"></a><a href="#FNanchor_105_105"><span class="label">[105]</span></a> “Mr. Lowell as a Teacher:” <i>Scribner’s Magazine</i>, -November, 1891. Included in his volume <i>Stelligeri</i>: Charles Scribner’s -Sons.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_106_106" id="Footnote_106_106"></a><a href="#FNanchor_106_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></a> “Address before the Modern Language Association of -America.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_107_107" id="Footnote_107_107"></a><a href="#FNanchor_107_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></a> 21 August, 1857.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_108_108" id="Footnote_108_108"></a><a href="#FNanchor_108_108"><span class="label">[108]</span></a> 31 August, 1857.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_109_109" id="Footnote_109_109"></a><a href="#FNanchor_109_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></a> 31 December, 1857.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_110_110" id="Footnote_110_110"></a><a href="#FNanchor_110_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></a> “A Few of Lowell’s Letters,” in <i>The Old Rome and the -New, and Other Studies</i>, by W. J. Stillman.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_111_111" id="Footnote_111_111"></a><a href="#FNanchor_111_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></a> <i>Literary Friends and Acquaintance</i>, p. 242.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_112_112" id="Footnote_112_112"></a><a href="#FNanchor_112_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></a> See especially “The Subjective of It,” first printed in -the <i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, and “The Philosophers’ Camp,” printed in <i>The -Century</i>, and both included in <i>The Old Rome and the New, and Other -Studies</i>. And more particularly see the first volume of <i>The -Autobiography of a Journalist</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_113_113" id="Footnote_113_113"></a><a href="#FNanchor_113_113"><span class="label">[113]</span></a> It is worth noting that the year in which this sentence -was written, the <i>Atlantic Monthly</i> was, in a special contingency, -edited by the Professor of English Literature at Princeton.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_114_114" id="Footnote_114_114"></a><a href="#FNanchor_114_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></a> Mr. Phillips was by marriage connected with Mr. Emerson’s -family.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_115_115" id="Footnote_115_115"></a><a href="#FNanchor_115_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></a> Mr. J. Elliot Cabot.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_116_116" id="Footnote_116_116"></a><a href="#FNanchor_116_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></a> E. E. Hale’s <i>James Russell Lowell and his Friends</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_117_117" id="Footnote_117_117"></a><a href="#FNanchor_117_117"><span class="label">[117]</span></a> “The New Portfolio,” January, 1885.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_118_118" id="Footnote_118_118"></a><a href="#FNanchor_118_118"><span class="label">[118]</span></a> In publishing in book form <i>The Mortal Antipathy</i>, of -which the first paper of “The New Portfolio” was made the Introduction, -Dr. Holmes so far corrected his statement as to make it read: “I -wondered somewhat when Mr. Lowell insisted upon my becoming a -contributor.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_119_119" id="Footnote_119_119"></a><a href="#FNanchor_119_119"><span class="label">[119]</span></a> “He envied every daysman and drover in the tavern their -manly speech.” In reprinting the paper in his volume <i>Society and -Solitude</i>, Emerson corrected to “He envied every drover and lumberman.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_120_120" id="Footnote_120_120"></a><a href="#FNanchor_120_120"><span class="label">[120]</span></a> Most of this letter is given in Mr. Pickard’s <i>Life and -Letters of John Greenleaf Whittier</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_121_121" id="Footnote_121_121"></a><a href="#FNanchor_121_121"><span class="label">[121]</span></a> “The Origin of Didactic Poetry.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_122_122" id="Footnote_122_122"></a><a href="#FNanchor_122_122"><span class="label">[122]</span></a> I recall the sententious principle which another editor -announced to me as the rule by which he was governed. “The only question -I ask myself is, <i>must</i> I take this?”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_123_123" id="Footnote_123_123"></a><a href="#FNanchor_123_123"><span class="label">[123]</span></a> <i>Letters</i>, i. 288, 289.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_124_124" id="Footnote_124_124"></a><a href="#FNanchor_124_124"><span class="label">[124]</span></a> There are three or four witty passages, to which this is -applicable.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_125_125" id="Footnote_125_125"></a><a href="#FNanchor_125_125"><span class="label">[125]</span></a> See <i>Letters</i>, i. 283, 284.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_126_126" id="Footnote_126_126"></a><a href="#FNanchor_126_126"><span class="label">[126]</span></a> The Wanderer was a slave-ship seized in New York harbor. -A Charleston jury refused to convict the captain.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_127_127" id="Footnote_127_127"></a><a href="#FNanchor_127_127"><span class="label">[127]</span></a> <i>Letters</i>, i. 286.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_128_128" id="Footnote_128_128"></a><a href="#FNanchor_128_128"><span class="label">[128]</span></a> <i>Letters</i>, i. 281.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_129_129" id="Footnote_129_129"></a><a href="#FNanchor_129_129"><span class="label">[129]</span></a> He was elected into the American Academy of Arts and -Sciences, 14 November, 1855, and into the Massachusetts Historical -Society, 14 May, 1863, but he does not appear to have been a frequent -attendant at the meetings of either of these bodies.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_130_130" id="Footnote_130_130"></a><a href="#FNanchor_130_130"><span class="label">[130]</span></a> This criticism also is given in C. E. Stowe’s <i>The Life -of Harriet Beecher Stowe</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_131_131" id="Footnote_131_131"></a><a href="#FNanchor_131_131"><span class="label">[131]</span></a> Mr. Fields was in Europe when the transaction occurred.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_132_132" id="Footnote_132_132"></a><a href="#FNanchor_132_132"><span class="label">[132]</span></a> “Experience of Samuel Absalom, Filibuster,” by D. -Deaderick.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_133_133" id="Footnote_133_133"></a><a href="#FNanchor_133_133"><span class="label">[133]</span></a> <i>Letters</i>, i. 310. May 23, 1861.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_134_134" id="Footnote_134_134"></a><a href="#FNanchor_134_134"><span class="label">[134]</span></a> The household at Elmwood was broken in upon apparently -not long after the return of the Lowells, by the death of Dr. Charles -Lowell, 20 January, 1861.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of James Russell Lowell, A Biography; -vol. 1/2, by Horace Elisha Scudder - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL V.1/2 *** - -***** This file should be named 57776-h.htm or 57776-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/7/7/57776/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif, MWS, Bryan Ness and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at -http://gutenberg.org/license). - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at -http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at -809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email -business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact -information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official -page at http://pglaf.org - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit http://pglaf.org - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - -</pre> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 57776 ***</div> </body> </html> |