Longfellow, HENRY WADSWORTH, born in Portland, Maine, U.S.A., February 27, 1807, and died in Cambridge, Massachusetts, Copyright 1890 in U.S. March 24, 1882. He inherited the best blood of the two Massachusetts colonies—Pilgrim and Puritan. His parents were in easy circumstances, and gave him the best education which the schools of the time afforded. At the early age of eighteen he graduated from Bowdoin College in Brunswick, Maine, in the class with Hawthorne, his life-long friend. His rank in college was high, especially in languages, ancient and modern. His translations then and afterward were noted for a felicity and point quite beyond the reach of ordinary scholars. In 1826 the trustees of the college sent him to Europe to qualify for the chair of Foreign Languages and Literatures; and he spent a year and three-quarters with this end in view in France, Spain, Italy, and Germany.
After his return home he married in 1831 Miss Potter of Portland, who died in Rotterdam in 1835, while they were making a tour in Europe; she is commemorated in the touching poem, The Footsteps of Angels. He had written poems while at college, and published them in magazines, chiefly in the United States Literary Gazette. His first book, omitting his numerous linguistic works, was a version of The Coplas of Don Jorge Manrique, a grave and stately poem, in itself probably inferior to Longfellow's fortunate translation. Outre Mer, an account of his first tour, appeared in 1835; and Hyperion, which is a journal of a later trip, in 1839. Both are interspersed with translations of German poems, and both have a permanent value as indicating the development of the poet's mind and art.
In November 1836 he became professor of Modern Languages and Literature in Harvard College, and held the chair nearly eighteen years, being succeeded by Mr Lowell. Voices of the Night, his first book of original verse, appeared in 1839. This gave to the world a distinctly new impression of tenderness, manly sentiment, and melody, and to the author an assured place among poets. The impression was deepened by the Ballads (1841), including 'The Skeleton in Armour,' 'The Wreck of the Hespers,' 'The Village Blacksmith,' 'Excelsior,' and others. Poems on Slavery appeared in 1842. By this he gave evidence of his moral convictions and courage, for at that time anti-slavery poets and orators were unpopular to the last degree. In 1843 was published The Spanish Student, a drama slight in substance, but full of movement and gaiety, and brilliant in local colour.
He made a third visit to Europe in 1842, and on his return the following year was married to Miss Frances Appleton of Boston, a beautiful and accomplished woman, the mother of his five children. He made collections of poems, including some of his own translations: The Waif (1845), The Estray (1847)—both now very scarce—and The Poets and Poetry of Europe (1845). This last is a large and important work, in which he was aided by his friend C. C. Felton. The Belfry of Bruges and other Poems appeared in 1846. In the following year he gave to the world what is probably his most popular poem, Evangeline, a tale of the French exiles of Acadia, known and admired by readers of every degree, and translated into most modern tongues. Opinions may differ as to the use of the hexameter measure; but, while critics debate, the vital interest of the pathetic story seizes upon all hearts. Kavanagh, a prose tale, appeared in 1849. The Seaside and the Fireside (1850) contains 'The Building of the Ship,' one of the finest of his poems, which has a great hold upon the people of the United States on account of the grand patriotic invocation with which it closes. The Golden Legend (1851), based upon an ancient German ballad, Der Arme Heinrich, by Hartmann von Aue, is a striking poem, medieval in tone and well sustained, though not a masterpiece. His genius is shown at its best in Hianwatha (1855), founded upon traditions and legends of the North American Indians. The light and tripping measure, the simplicity of phrase, and the well-calculated repetitions at first give an impression of artlessness, almost of baldness; but whoever reads the poem with enlightened eyes finds, under this easy flow of words, a series of poetic conceptions, the suggestion of noble and enduring images, and the mastery of just expression. The Courtship of Miles Standish (1858) is a story in hexameters of the early days of the Plymouth colony in Massachusetts. To the people of New England this poem has an inexpressible charm on account of its historical associations: it is a mirror of the life of the Pilgrims. The story is interesting in itself, and is told with easy grace. The poet was descended from the Priscilla of this poem, whose well-known question, 'Why don't you speak for yourself, John?' is the keynote of the book. Tales of a Wayside Inn is a poem which appeared in parts, in different volumes (1863, 1872, 1874)—its plan suggested evidently by the Canterbury Tales. The Inn was in Sudbury, Massachusetts, famous a century ago, and the poet has gathered there a company of well-known men whom he portrays, and who in turn tell stories, some of which are from Boccaccio and other early writers, and some original. Flower-de-Luce (1867), though not so famous as other collections, shows in its twelve short poems some of the poet's most exquisite workmanship. The New England Tragedies (1868), in blank verse, treats mainly of the Salem witchcraft in the latter part of the 17th century. The next work was a complete and faithful translation of the three parts of Dante's Divine Comedy (1867-70). Christus, a Mystery, being the gospel story in blank verse, appeared in 1872. This was afterwards printed with The Golden Legend and The New England Tragedies consecutively. Three Books of Song, containing the conclusion of Tales of a Wayside Inn, Judas Maccabeus, &c., was published in 1872; Aftermath, in 1874; The Masque of Pandora, in 1875. This last volume contains a poem, 'Morituri Salutamus,' written for the fiftieth anniversary of the poet's graduation from college. The occasion, which was noticed throughout the United States, was most impressive and affecting. Keramos (1878) and Ultima Thule (1880) were the last of the long series. No mention is made of his many contributions to magazines and reviews. Poems of Places, a collection undertaken by the poet without too much thought of the magnitude of the task, reached 31 volumes.
He paid a last visit to Europe in 1868-69, and was received in England with honour and love. The greater and most fruitful part of Longfellow's life was passed at Cambridge, Massachusetts, where he lived in a stately colonial house which had been the headquarters of Washington during the siege of Boston, and which remains as he left it. His striking features, his full beard, and his massive head, crowned with abundant silvery hair, gave him a singularly noble look. He was free from the faults of many literary men—never exhibiting envy or jealousy, and preserving always a serenity and amiability that won the hearts of all who met him. His relations with his contemporaries—Emerson, Hawthorne, Holmes, Lowell, and Agassiz—were intimate and hearty, and the literary society in which he moved was simple and charming.
He began as a translator, and in many respects his translations were his best work. He was not a minute or methodical observer, but was open to all the impressions of nature, and his verse has a general rather than a particular truth in regard to the external world. He was not a profound student of human nature, and seldom throws any startling light into its secret rifts and contradictions; but he knew mankind in general, especially in their tender fibres, their interior life of alternate hope and depression, and in all that makes the delight of home. Of modern poets he is the one who has best expressed the feelings of natural men in regard to love and maternity, peace and goodwill, death and the future life. The wide gamut and perfect accord of his sympathies have made him the poet of the people without losing the regard and the respect of the cultivated few. How large a place he fills can best be estimated by considering the void that would be left if the Voices of the Night, Evangeline, and Hianwatha, and the long succession of poems could be blotted out from the memories of men. He did not consider himself one of 'the grand old masters,' nor one of the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
In the corridors of Time.
If he was not great among the half-dozen great poets, he was among those who have made the best use of their talents. The faculty of full and just, as well as of delicate and suggestive expression, developed by patient study, gave to his thoughts and sentiments a value and currency for which greater men have sought in vain. After all deductions there remains a great and almost incomparable treasure in his varied and beautiful works.
See his Life by his brother, the Rev. Samuel Longfellow (3 vols. 1886-87); and the memorial volume published shortly after his death by the present writer.