TJie Poet Longfellow, ly James T. Fields. 



25 



sleep. He got up and -wrote the celebrated vorses. " T4io 

 clock was striking three," he said, " when I finished the 

 last stanza." It did not come into his mind by lines, but 

 by whole stanzas, hardly causing him an effort, but 

 flowing without let or hinderance. 



THE ORIGIN OF "EXCELSIOR." 



One of the, best known of all Longfellow's shorter 

 poems Is "Excelsior." The word happened to catch his 

 eye late one Autumn evening in 1841 on a torn piece of 

 newspaper, aiid straightway his imagination took lire at 

 it. Taking the first piece of paper at hand, which hap- 

 pened to be the back, of a letter received that night from 

 CiiHrlesSumner, Longfellow crowded it with verses. As 

 first written dowu, "Excelsior" differs from the per- 

 fected and published poom; but it shows in its original 

 conception a rash and glow worthy the theme and 

 author. On a summer afternoon In 1849. as he was riding 

 on the beach, " The Skeleton iu Armor" rose as out of 

 the deep before him and would not be laid. The story of 

 "Evangeliuc" was first suggested to Hawthorue by a 

 friend who wished him to found a romance upon it. 

 Hawthorne did not quite coincide with the idea, and 

 handed the theme to Loufe'Tlow, who saw at once all the 

 essential qualities of a deep and tender idyl. 



It is a delightful tribute to Longfellow's genius that 

 all young people delight so iu his poetry. They find in 

 it a childlike simplicity as well as the essential quality 

 Of supreme interest. The child detects the imitation 

 article quite as readily as the parent, and will pass the 

 spurious lyre and accept the real one with a judgment 

 that is marvelous. Old and young, the laborer and tko 

 professor, alike find occasion for the inspiring words of 

 Longfellow which they cannot do without. Every- 

 where, anywhere, he is in most perfect and delightful 

 keeping. Tiie untaught grace of poetry, ths power of 

 infusing the author's mind into the heart of the reader 

 is his, and this endears him to his readers, and will 

 endear him to generations yet to come. 



TUB DETRACTIONS OF CRITICS. 



One of the commonest and most unfounded charges 

 against authoislrp in every age is plagiarism. Now 

 nine times out of ten what is called plagiarism is paral- 

 lelism. If I were, an artist and could paiul- like William 

 Hunt, I would make a picture which would stand for 

 all times of Hercules telling his servant to show a fault- 

 finding visitor out of the room. It is a groat fault in 

 anybody who cannot praise easily. Habitual fault- 

 finding is an immoral trait in any character, and a lesson 

 we all should learn is to find out good thinars in what we 

 see. Longfellow has not escaped detraction any more 

 tlian the rest. The vultures of criticism have hovered 

 and pounced on his reputation after their usual manner, 

 but no great harm has ever resulted from their attacks. 

 Always master of himself and his theme, the poet 

 has sailed away out of his detractors' sight and 

 quietly let them rave. Longfellow now lives of course 

 above the region where the envious critics delight to 

 bark aud bite. But some of us remember what dissat- 

 isfaction was called up when he published a new volume 

 of his works. The rats of reputation went on gnawing 

 at his laurels for years, though they proved to bo pow- 

 erless against true genius and artistic skill, aud the 

 true son of the muses went ou from strength to strength, 

 whi.e these vermin died at last from inanition and 

 neglect. One of his purblind critics said he had " really 

 written some brilliant pieces by accident." 

 "Accident, then," I said, "was never bel- 

 ter employed. Let us vary our railroad casualties 

 with some accidents of the Longfellow type." I hope 



they still show the little room down In Bowdoin College, 

 for it was in that pleasant apartment that the young 

 poet of 19 wrote many of his early pooms. Those were 

 nil published in 1825, during his last year iiwollege, in a 

 periodical called The United Slates Lilcran/ Gazette, the 

 sapient editor of which advised him to irive up poetry 

 and buoklo dowu ",o law. I am very glad that Ljug- 

 fellow did not take his advice. 



THE FRIEND OF HIS RACE. 



In estimating Longfellow, I see no reason for comparing 

 him with anybody else. Ho is sufficient in liis own depart- 

 ment, and has his own power aud influence. Tennyson is 

 Tennyson, Wordsworth is Wordsworth. Longfellow in 

 Longfellow. He may not be this or that, but a writer 

 should not be judged by what he is not. What he is should 

 be the real question. Negations are not answers, but qual- 

 ities in possession are what wrtl doterjnlue eotem- 

 porary judgment as well as tbe judgment of posterity. 

 What a procession of youth and beauty wander in per- 

 ennial loveliness through Longfellow's pages. It cau 

 never grow old or fade away. 



If I were called upon suddenly to prove that Long, 

 fellow is preeminently a poet in every sense, in im- 

 agination, in artistic skill, in all the equipment of a high- 

 born singer, I think I should be willing to select from 1m 

 later pieces the exquisite poom of S.indalpaoj, which 

 if you wish, I will read to you. [Mr. Fields here read 

 the poem.' 



No English poet-scholar has ever made such mastatly 

 translations as Longfellow. Dante, as rendered by him, 

 can be read now in the very spirit of the erreat Italian 

 poet. Now, Just what I claim for L mgfellow is this : A 

 high and honorable place in the poetic and prose litera- 

 ture of this century ; a rank with the great spirits that 

 still rule us from their urns; a name that can never die 

 out of ( he annals of English literature and song; for I 

 find iu him those priceless qualities of excellence which 

 the world, having once witnessed, never forgets. Longfel- 

 low goes iu a straight line to ins reader's understanding. 

 The highway to the hurnau heart is the one he most 

 travels. His verse gives no translation to his reader. 

 He id never a satirist, never a trifler, never a scoruer, 

 but a delineator of flue aud tender sympathies, which 

 makes him the friend of his race. 



It was never truer than now that poetry has its own 

 exceeding great reward. Aud let us never lorget. my 

 friends, when we are estimating poetry, what Long- 

 fellow himself teaches m one of his best and noblest 

 efforts, that 



" God sent his singers on the earth, 

 Wish songs of sadness and of mirth 

 Tbat they might teach the heart of men, 

 And bring them back to heaven again." 



