The Civil War And Longfellow
"Longfellow was himself a beautiful poem, more beautiful than anything he had ever written.
" ~Oscar Wilde March 24, 1863, Craigie House, Cambridge, Mass.
Like all days in his life, it had been a busy one for Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the most popular poet of the 19th century.
He had likely answered correspondence from his many admirers, pruned lilacs in his yard, and sketched amusing caricatures for the two youngest of his five children.
Perhaps he had also devoted time to editing one of the early cantos of his translation of Dante's "Divine Comedy.
" Nothing, however, could have prepared the famous poet that day for a knock on the door and the delivery of a letter from his 18 year-old son, Charley, informing him that he had joined the Union Army.
Longfellow was once again faced with loss, as he had been for much of his life.
In 1829, his favorite sister, Elizabeth, died of tuberculosis while he was studying aboard.
His next trip to Europe in 1835 brought the death of his first wife, Mary Storer Potter, following a miscarriage in Amsterdam.
And his little daughter, Fanny, named after his second wife, died after a short illness in 1848 at the age 17 months.
Yet on the surface, Longfellow led a charmed life.
His hospitality, kindness, and generosity were legendary.
And nowhere was this more evident than with those who were less fortunate than he.
According to Longfellow scholar, Christoph Irmscher, the poet's account books, on display at Harvard Houghton Library, show that he supported the abolitionist cause, individual slaves, and African churches and schools.
In fact, every scholar who has studied the poet has concluded that he played the notes of his life-abolitionist, philanthropist, scholar, linguist, professor, translator, multi-culturist, nation-builder, husband, father, friend, and opera lover-in perfect harmony.
"No breath of evil ever touched his name," wrote William Dean Howells, an editor at "Harper's Monthly" and a member of the Dante Club-that august group of literary men who helped Longfellow translate Dante and who were famously fictionalized in Matthew Pearl's 2003 historical mystery, "The Dante Club.
" Like his lyrical poetry and his youthful musical compositions for flute and piano-now on display at Maine Historical Society, Portland-Longfellow conduced himself as if guided in dulcet rhythms.
Indeed, "Longfellow was himself a beautiful poem, more beautiful than anything he ever wrote," according to Oscar Wilde after a visit with Longfellow.
The knock on the door that March day in 1863 came just twenty months after Longfellow had been dealt the most terrible tragedy of his life.
In 1861, his beloved wife, Fanny, perished after a fire consumed the delicate material of her hoop skirt and burned her so badly that she lived only until the next morning.
Longfellow's hair turned white almost overnight after Fanny's death.
His posture became stooped.
And it seemed as if he had aged twenty years, according to Charles Calhoun, author of "Longfellow, A Rediscovered Life.
" Although still grieving for his wife, his response to Charley's letter was characteristic.
He wrote his son a letter, admonishing him gently for being "too precipitate," and told him he loved him.
He also wrote to his closest friend, Charles Sumner, the abolitionist and senator from Mass.
-who had continued on in Washington after he had been beaten unconscious on the floor of the Senate with a cane by an angry Southerner in 1856-asking him to keep watch on the whereabouts of his impetuous son.
Longfellow's distress over Charley was symbolic of the nation's sorrow.
Longfellow's beloved country was brutally split-divided-torn asunder over the issues of slavery.
A Unitarian pacifist, Longfellow had longed for unity.
His earlier poem, "The Building of the Ship," attested to his beliefs: "Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! Sail on, O Union, strong and great! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate.
" In 1852, he and Fanny had read themselves "into despair" over Harriet Beecher Stowe's "Uncle Tom's Cabin," according to Christoph Irmscher, in "Public Poet, Private Man," A Harvard Library Bulletin.
"They felt their 'blood boil,'" and Longfellow "pronounced Stowe's book, a 'book of power.
'" By December of 1860, Fanny and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had come to the depressing conclusion that war was inevitable-that there was no other way of ending the injustice of slavery.
Longfellow, however, was ahead of his time in his democratic views of his fellow man.
Unlike many of his literary contemporaries, including Emerson, he had always believed that the black man was equal to the white.
In fact, his 1842 "Poems on Slavery," predated Harriet Beecher Stowe's book by ten years.
Encouraged by his friend, Sumner, Longfellow finally undertook the writing of a series of seven anti-slavery poems while on a voyage back to America after visiting the writer, Charles Dickens, an ardent abolitionist in London.
Despite Longfellow's abolitionist tendencies, however, his concern over Charley continued.
And rightly so.
On November 27 of that year, while fighting in Virginia, a bullet whizzed though Charley's back, slightly chipping his spine, and exiting on the other side.
A telegram reached Longfellow to that effect on December 1, with the result that Longfellow and his son, Ernest, rushed to Washington, hoping to find Charley on one of the trains that unloaded those injured in battle.
Wounded but not dying, Charley finally exited the train on December 6.
Word spread quickly in Washington that the popular poet was in town, and after his son was inspected by "every high-ranking surgeon in the army," according to Calhoun, Charley continued his convalescence in Cambridge-surviving, and in fact, thriving under his father's care.
Caring was characteristic of Longfellow, of course.
And his care extended not only to his immediate family but out into the larger family of humanity.
"One of the abiding myths," said Irmscher, "is that Longfellow kept out of politics.
He was a profoundly private man, to be sure.
But that didn't mean that his opinions on public matters weren't well-known.
" "In fact," said Irmscher, "An African-American newspaper, the 'Christian Recorder,' reported after the poet's death in 1882 that Longfellow's influence was always given on the side of liberty-the most beautiful thing, in my opinion, that could be said about anyone's life.
"
" ~Oscar Wilde March 24, 1863, Craigie House, Cambridge, Mass.
Like all days in his life, it had been a busy one for Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the most popular poet of the 19th century.
He had likely answered correspondence from his many admirers, pruned lilacs in his yard, and sketched amusing caricatures for the two youngest of his five children.
Perhaps he had also devoted time to editing one of the early cantos of his translation of Dante's "Divine Comedy.
" Nothing, however, could have prepared the famous poet that day for a knock on the door and the delivery of a letter from his 18 year-old son, Charley, informing him that he had joined the Union Army.
Longfellow was once again faced with loss, as he had been for much of his life.
In 1829, his favorite sister, Elizabeth, died of tuberculosis while he was studying aboard.
His next trip to Europe in 1835 brought the death of his first wife, Mary Storer Potter, following a miscarriage in Amsterdam.
And his little daughter, Fanny, named after his second wife, died after a short illness in 1848 at the age 17 months.
Yet on the surface, Longfellow led a charmed life.
His hospitality, kindness, and generosity were legendary.
And nowhere was this more evident than with those who were less fortunate than he.
According to Longfellow scholar, Christoph Irmscher, the poet's account books, on display at Harvard Houghton Library, show that he supported the abolitionist cause, individual slaves, and African churches and schools.
In fact, every scholar who has studied the poet has concluded that he played the notes of his life-abolitionist, philanthropist, scholar, linguist, professor, translator, multi-culturist, nation-builder, husband, father, friend, and opera lover-in perfect harmony.
"No breath of evil ever touched his name," wrote William Dean Howells, an editor at "Harper's Monthly" and a member of the Dante Club-that august group of literary men who helped Longfellow translate Dante and who were famously fictionalized in Matthew Pearl's 2003 historical mystery, "The Dante Club.
" Like his lyrical poetry and his youthful musical compositions for flute and piano-now on display at Maine Historical Society, Portland-Longfellow conduced himself as if guided in dulcet rhythms.
Indeed, "Longfellow was himself a beautiful poem, more beautiful than anything he ever wrote," according to Oscar Wilde after a visit with Longfellow.
The knock on the door that March day in 1863 came just twenty months after Longfellow had been dealt the most terrible tragedy of his life.
In 1861, his beloved wife, Fanny, perished after a fire consumed the delicate material of her hoop skirt and burned her so badly that she lived only until the next morning.
Longfellow's hair turned white almost overnight after Fanny's death.
His posture became stooped.
And it seemed as if he had aged twenty years, according to Charles Calhoun, author of "Longfellow, A Rediscovered Life.
" Although still grieving for his wife, his response to Charley's letter was characteristic.
He wrote his son a letter, admonishing him gently for being "too precipitate," and told him he loved him.
He also wrote to his closest friend, Charles Sumner, the abolitionist and senator from Mass.
-who had continued on in Washington after he had been beaten unconscious on the floor of the Senate with a cane by an angry Southerner in 1856-asking him to keep watch on the whereabouts of his impetuous son.
Longfellow's distress over Charley was symbolic of the nation's sorrow.
Longfellow's beloved country was brutally split-divided-torn asunder over the issues of slavery.
A Unitarian pacifist, Longfellow had longed for unity.
His earlier poem, "The Building of the Ship," attested to his beliefs: "Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! Sail on, O Union, strong and great! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate.
" In 1852, he and Fanny had read themselves "into despair" over Harriet Beecher Stowe's "Uncle Tom's Cabin," according to Christoph Irmscher, in "Public Poet, Private Man," A Harvard Library Bulletin.
"They felt their 'blood boil,'" and Longfellow "pronounced Stowe's book, a 'book of power.
'" By December of 1860, Fanny and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had come to the depressing conclusion that war was inevitable-that there was no other way of ending the injustice of slavery.
Longfellow, however, was ahead of his time in his democratic views of his fellow man.
Unlike many of his literary contemporaries, including Emerson, he had always believed that the black man was equal to the white.
In fact, his 1842 "Poems on Slavery," predated Harriet Beecher Stowe's book by ten years.
Encouraged by his friend, Sumner, Longfellow finally undertook the writing of a series of seven anti-slavery poems while on a voyage back to America after visiting the writer, Charles Dickens, an ardent abolitionist in London.
Despite Longfellow's abolitionist tendencies, however, his concern over Charley continued.
And rightly so.
On November 27 of that year, while fighting in Virginia, a bullet whizzed though Charley's back, slightly chipping his spine, and exiting on the other side.
A telegram reached Longfellow to that effect on December 1, with the result that Longfellow and his son, Ernest, rushed to Washington, hoping to find Charley on one of the trains that unloaded those injured in battle.
Wounded but not dying, Charley finally exited the train on December 6.
Word spread quickly in Washington that the popular poet was in town, and after his son was inspected by "every high-ranking surgeon in the army," according to Calhoun, Charley continued his convalescence in Cambridge-surviving, and in fact, thriving under his father's care.
Caring was characteristic of Longfellow, of course.
And his care extended not only to his immediate family but out into the larger family of humanity.
"One of the abiding myths," said Irmscher, "is that Longfellow kept out of politics.
He was a profoundly private man, to be sure.
But that didn't mean that his opinions on public matters weren't well-known.
" "In fact," said Irmscher, "An African-American newspaper, the 'Christian Recorder,' reported after the poet's death in 1882 that Longfellow's influence was always given on the side of liberty-the most beautiful thing, in my opinion, that could be said about anyone's life.
"
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