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December 2nd, 1859 AD (search for this): chapter 24
ity in his own nature, have had just such friends as these. He was not led by his own convictions to leave his study like Emerson and take direct part as a contestant in the struggles of the time. It is a curious fact that Lowell should have censured Thoreau for not doing in this respect just the thing which Thoreau ultimately did and Longfellow did not. It was, however, essentially a difference of temperament, and it must be remembered that Longfellow wrote in his diary under date of December 2, 1859, This will be a great day in our history; the date of a new Revolution,—quite as much needed as the old one. Even now as I write, they are leading old John Brown to execution in Virginia, for attempting to rescue slaves! This is sowing the wind to reap the whirlwind, which will come soon. His relations with Whittier remained always kindly and unbroken. They dined together at the Atlantic Club and Saturday Club, and Longfellow wrote of him in 1857, He grows milder and mellower, as
the demand for autographs. Longfellow writes in his own diary that on November 25, 1856, he has more than sixty such requests lying on his table; and again on January 9, Yesterday I wrote, sealed, and directed seventy autographs. To-day I added five or six more and mailed them. It does not appear whether the later seventy applications included the earlier sixty, but it is, in view of the weakness of human nature, very probable. This number must have gone on increasing. I remember that in 1875 r saw in his study a pile which must have numbered more than seventy, and which had come in a single day from a single high school in a Western city, to congratulate him on his birthday, and each hinting at an autograph, which I think he was about to supply. At the time of his seventy-fourth birthday, 1881, a lady in Ohio sent him a hundred blank cards, with the request that he would write his name on each, that she might distribute them among her guests at a party she was to give on that
November 5th, 1847 AD (search for this): chapter 24
o not differ essentially from those of England, our literature cannot. Vast forests, lakes, and prairies cannot make great poets. They are but the scenery of the play, and have much less to do with the poetic character than has been imagined. Neither Mexico nor Switzerland has produced any remarkable poet. I do not think a Poets' Convention would help the matter. In fact, the matter needs no helping. Life, II. 19, 20. In the same way he speaks with regret, three years later, November 5, 1847, of The prospectus of a new magazine in Philadelphia to build up a national literature worthy of the country of Niagara—of the land of forests and eagles. One feels an inexhaustible curiosity as to the precise manner in which each favorite poem by a favorite author comes into existence. In the case of Longfellow we find this illustrated only here and there. We know that The Arrow and the Song, for instance, came into his mind instantaneously; that My Lost Youth occurred to him in
November 25th, 1856 AD (search for this): chapter 24
ers. Or this, How sudden and sweet are the visitations of our happiest thoughts; what delightful surprises! In the midst of life's most trivial occupations,—as when we are reading a newspaper, or lighting a bed-candle, or waiting for our horses to drive round,—the lovely face appears, and thoughts more precious than gold are whispered in our ear. The test of popularity in a poet is nowhere more visible than in the demand for autographs. Longfellow writes in his own diary that on November 25, 1856, he has more than sixty such requests lying on his table; and again on January 9, Yesterday I wrote, sealed, and directed seventy autographs. To-day I added five or six more and mailed them. It does not appear whether the later seventy applications included the earlier sixty, but it is, in view of the weakness of human nature, very probable. This number must have gone on increasing. I remember that in 1875 r saw in his study a pile which must have numbered more than seventy, and wh
December 24th (search for this): chapter 24
many critics as greater than himself. He was one of the first students of Browning in America, when the latter was known chiefly by his Bells and Pomegranates, and instinctively selected the Blot in the 'Scutcheon as a play of great power and beauty, as the critics would say, and as every one must say who reads it. He is an extraordinary genius, Browning, with dramatic power of the first order. Paracelsus he describes, with some justice, as very lofty, but very diffuse. Of Browning's Christmas Eve he later writes, A wonderful man is Browning, but too obscure, and later makes a similar remark on The Ring and the Book. Of Tennyson he writes, as to The Princess, calling it a gentle satire, in the easiest and most flowing blank verse, with two delicious unrhymed songs, and many exquisite passages. I went to bed after it, with delightful music ringing in my ears; yet half disappointed in the poem, though not knowing why. There is a discordant note somewhere. One very uncertain tes
December 17th, 1839 AD (search for this): chapter 24
l literature worthy of the country of Niagara—of the land of forests and eagles. One feels an inexhaustible curiosity as to the precise manner in which each favorite poem by a favorite author comes into existence. In the case of Longfellow we find this illustrated only here and there. We know that The Arrow and the Song, for instance, came into his mind instantaneously; that My Lost Youth occurred to him in the night, after a day of pain, and was written the next morning; that on December 17, 1839, he read of shipwrecks reported in the papers and of bodies washed ashore near Gloucester, one lashed to a piece of the wreck, and that he wrote, There is a reef called Norman's Woe where many of these took place; among others the schooner Hesperus. Also the Sea-Flower on Black Rock. I must write a ballad upon this, also two others,— The Skeleton in Armor and Sir Humphrey Gilbert. A fortnight later he sat at twelve o'clock by his fire, smoking, when suddenly it came into his mind
e in his diary under date of December 2, 1859, This will be a great day in our history; the date of a new Revolution,—quite as much needed as the old one. Even now as I write, they are leading old John Brown to execution in Virginia, for attempting to rescue slaves! This is sowing the wind to reap the whirlwind, which will come soon. His relations with Whittier remained always kindly and unbroken. They dined together at the Atlantic Club and Saturday Club, and Longfellow wrote of him in 1857, He grows milder and mellower, as does his poetry. He went to Concord sometimes to dine with Emerson, and meet his philosophers, Alcott, Thoreau, and Channing. Or Emerson came to Cambridge, to take tea, giving a lecture at the Lyceum, of which Longfellow says, The lecture good, but not of his richest and rarest. His subject Eloquence. By turns he was grave and jocose, and had some striking views and passages. He lets in a thousand new lights, side-lights, and cross-lights, into every su
July 24th, 1844 AD (search for this): chapter 24
g of the deepest mysteries; he will always be read for invigoration, for comfort, for content. No man is always consistent, and it is not to be claimed that Longfellow was always ready to reaffirm his early attitude in respect to a national literature. It is not strange that after he had fairly begun to create one, he should sometimes be repelled by the class which has always existed who think that mere nationality should rank first and an artistic standard afterwards. He writes on July 24, 1844, to an unknown Correspondent:— I dislike as much as any one can the tone of English criticism in reference to our literature. But when you say, It is a lamentable fact that as yet our country has taken no decided steps towards establishing a national literature, it seems to me that you are repeating one of the most fallacious assertions of the English critics. Upon this point I differ entirely from you in opinion. A national literature is the expression of national character and
January 9th (search for this): chapter 24
t delightful surprises! In the midst of life's most trivial occupations,—as when we are reading a newspaper, or lighting a bed-candle, or waiting for our horses to drive round,—the lovely face appears, and thoughts more precious than gold are whispered in our ear. The test of popularity in a poet is nowhere more visible than in the demand for autographs. Longfellow writes in his own diary that on November 25, 1856, he has more than sixty such requests lying on his table; and again on January 9, Yesterday I wrote, sealed, and directed seventy autographs. To-day I added five or six more and mailed them. It does not appear whether the later seventy applications included the earlier sixty, but it is, in view of the weakness of human nature, very probable. This number must have gone on increasing. I remember that in 1875 r saw in his study a pile which must have numbered more than seventy, and which had come in a single day from a single high school in a Western city, to congratu
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