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Brookline (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 13
hapter. But he at once found himself, apart from this, a member of a most agreeable social circle, for which his naturally cheerful temperament admirably fitted him. It is indeed doubtful if any Harvard professor of to-day could record in his note-books an equally continuous course of mild festivities. There are weeks when he never spends an evening at home. He often describes himself as gloomy, but the gloom is never long visible. He constantly walks in and out of Boston, or drives to Brookline or Jamaica Plain; and whist and little suppers are never long omitted. Lowell was not as yet promoted to his friendship because of youth, nor had he and Holmes then been especially brought together, but Prescott, Sumner, Felton, and others constantly appear. He draws the line at a fancy ball, declining to costume himself for that purpose; and he writes that he never dances, but in other respects spends his evenings after his own inclination. Two years later, however, he mentions his pu
Georgia (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 13
iterature in a new country naturally tends to the florid, and one needs only to turn to the novels of Charles Brockden Brown, or even Bancroft's History of the United States, to see how eminently this was the case in America. Whatever the genius of Poe, for instance, we can now see that he represented, in this respect, a dangerous tendency, and Poe's followers and admirers exemplified it in its most perilous form. Take, for instance, such an example as that of Dr. Thomas Holley Chivers of Georgia, author of Eonchs of Ruby, a man of whom Bayard Taylor wrote in 1871, speaking of that period thirty years earlier, that something wonderful would come out of Chivers. Passages from the Correspondence of Rufus W. Griswold, p. 46. It is certain that things wonderful came out of him at the very beginning, for we owe to him the statement that as the irradiancy of a diamond depends upon its diaphanous translucency, so does the beauty of a poem upon its rhythmical crystallization of the Divi
United States (United States) (search for this): chapter 13
gs in themselves most prosaic are flooded with a kind of poetic light from the inner soul. The Lover's Seat, London, i. 36. It is quite certain that one may go farther in looking back upon the development of our literature and can claim that this simplicity was the precise contribution needed at that early and formative period. Literature in a new country naturally tends to the florid, and one needs only to turn to the novels of Charles Brockden Brown, or even Bancroft's History of the United States, to see how eminently this was the case in America. Whatever the genius of Poe, for instance, we can now see that he represented, in this respect, a dangerous tendency, and Poe's followers and admirers exemplified it in its most perilous form. Take, for instance, such an example as that of Dr. Thomas Holley Chivers of Georgia, author of Eonchs of Ruby, a man of whom Bayard Taylor wrote in 1871, speaking of that period thirty years earlier, that something wonderful would come out of Chi
Yuba River (Idaho, United States) (search for this): chapter 13
for we owe to him the statement that as the irradiancy of a diamond depends upon its diaphanous translucency, so does the beauty of a poem upon its rhythmical crystallization of the Divine Idea. One cannot turn a page of Chivers without recognizing that he at his best was very closely allied to Poe at his worst. Such a verse as the following was not an imitation, but a twin blossom:— On the beryl-rimmed rebecs of Ruby Brought fresh from the hyaline streams, She played on the banks of the Yuba Such songs as she heard in her dreams, Like the heavens when the stars from their eyries Look down through the ebon night air, Where the groves by the Ouphantic Fairies Lit up for my Lily Adair, For my child-like Lily Adair, For my heaven-born Lily Adair, For my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair. It is easy to guess that Longfellow, in his North American Review article, drew from Dr. Chivers and his kin his picture of those writers, turgid and extravagant, to be found in American literature.
Europe (search for this): chapter 13
lone. Professor Wendell's criticisms on Longfellow, in many respects admirable, do not seem to me quite to recognize this truth, nor yet the companion fact that while Poe took captive the cultivated but morbid taste of the French public, it was Longfellow who called forth more translators in all nations than all other Americans put together. If, as Professor Wendell thinks, the foundation of Longfellow's fame was the fact that he introduced our innocent American public to the splendors of European civilization, Literary History of America, p. 384. how is it that his poems won and held such a popularity among those who already had these splendors at their door? It is also to be remembered that he was, if this were all, in some degree preceded by Bryant, who had opened the doors of Spanish romance to young Americans even before Longfellow led them to Germany and Italy. Yet a common ground of criticism on Longfellow's early poems lay in the very simplicity which made them, then and
Jamaica Plain (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 13
at once found himself, apart from this, a member of a most agreeable social circle, for which his naturally cheerful temperament admirably fitted him. It is indeed doubtful if any Harvard professor of to-day could record in his note-books an equally continuous course of mild festivities. There are weeks when he never spends an evening at home. He often describes himself as gloomy, but the gloom is never long visible. He constantly walks in and out of Boston, or drives to Brookline or Jamaica Plain; and whist and little suppers are never long omitted. Lowell was not as yet promoted to his friendship because of youth, nor had he and Holmes then been especially brought together, but Prescott, Sumner, Felton, and others constantly appear. He draws the line at a fancy ball, declining to costume himself for that purpose; and he writes that he never dances, but in other respects spends his evenings after his own inclination. Two years later, however, he mentions his purpose of going
Sara Coleridge (search for this): chapter 13
or that there was nothing like it in the language, and Poe wrote to Longfellow, May 3, 1841, I cannot refrain from availing myself of this, the only opportunity I may ever have, to assure the author of the Hymn to the night, of the Beleaguered City, and of the Skeleton in Armor of the fervent admiration with which his genius has inspired me. In most of the criticisms of Longfellow's earlier poetry, including in this grouping even the Psalm of Life, we lose sight of that fine remark of Sara Coleridge, daughter of the poet, who said to Aubrey de Vere, However inferior the bulk of a young man's poetry may be to that of the poet when mature, it generally possesses some passages with a special freshness of their own and an inexplicable charm to be found in them alone. Professor Wendell's criticisms on Longfellow, in many respects admirable, do not seem to me quite to recognize this truth, nor yet the companion fact that while Poe took captive the cultivated but morbid taste of the Fren
Nathaniel Hawthorne (search for this): chapter 13
on (1200 copies) was seized by creditors and was locked up, so that the book was out of the market for four months. No matter, the young author writes in his diary, I had the glorious satisfaction of writing it. Meanwhile the Knickerbocker had not paid its contributors for three years, and the success of Voices of the Night was regarded as signal, because the publisher had sold 850 copies in three weeks. The popularity of the Voices of the Night, though not universal, was very great. Hawthorne wrote to him of these poems, Nothing equal to some of them was ever written in this world,—this western world, I mean; and it would not hurt my conscience much to include the other hemisphere. Life, i. 349. Halleck also said of the Skeleton in Armor that there was nothing like it in the language, and Poe wrote to Longfellow, May 3, 1841, I cannot refrain from availing myself of this, the only opportunity I may ever have, to assure the author of the Hymn to the night, of the Beleaguered Ci
Oliver Wendell Holmes (search for this): chapter 13
him. It is indeed doubtful if any Harvard professor of to-day could record in his note-books an equally continuous course of mild festivities. There are weeks when he never spends an evening at home. He often describes himself as gloomy, but the gloom is never long visible. He constantly walks in and out of Boston, or drives to Brookline or Jamaica Plain; and whist and little suppers are never long omitted. Lowell was not as yet promoted to his friendship because of youth, nor had he and Holmes then been especially brought together, but Prescott, Sumner, Felton, and others constantly appear. He draws the line at a fancy ball, declining to costume himself for that purpose; and he writes that he never dances, but in other respects spends his evenings after his own inclination. Two years later, however, he mentions his purpose of going to a subscription ball for the purpose of dancing with elderly ladies, who are, he thinks, much more grateful for slight attentions than younger one
Aubrey Vere (search for this): chapter 13
and Poe wrote to Longfellow, May 3, 1841, I cannot refrain from availing myself of this, the only opportunity I may ever have, to assure the author of the Hymn to the night, of the Beleaguered City, and of the Skeleton in Armor of the fervent admiration with which his genius has inspired me. In most of the criticisms of Longfellow's earlier poetry, including in this grouping even the Psalm of Life, we lose sight of that fine remark of Sara Coleridge, daughter of the poet, who said to Aubrey de Vere, However inferior the bulk of a young man's poetry may be to that of the poet when mature, it generally possesses some passages with a special freshness of their own and an inexplicable charm to be found in them alone. Professor Wendell's criticisms on Longfellow, in many respects admirable, do not seem to me quite to recognize this truth, nor yet the companion fact that while Poe took captive the cultivated but morbid taste of the French public, it was Longfellow who called forth more
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