JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL
1819-1892
James Russell Lowell was born on the 22d of February, 1819, at
Cambridge, Mass. Fate had willed that he, beyond all other writers,
was to preserve a certain phase of Yankee life and make it the
treasure of futurity, and the Cambridge of his early boyhood was the
best training he could have received for such a mission.
The then unpretentious village, with its quiet streets shaded with
elms, lindens, and horse-chestnuts, was revered throughout New England
as the home of Harvard College, but it was much more than that. It
was a little world in which still lingered all the quaintness and
simplicity of early New England life, and Lowell, imbibing these
influences unconsciously in childhood, was able afterward to reproduce
their flavor in his literary work and thus preserve them from
oblivion. The birthplace of Lowell was Elmwood, a charming
country-seat formerly occupied by a Tory tax-collector, who had
emigrated on the outbreak of the Revolution. It had a large,
comfortable house shaded by some of the Cambridge elms, which Lowell
characteristically remarks were unable fortunately to emigrate with
the tax-collector, and the grounds were beautified by the trees and
flowers which were the delight of Dr. Lowell, the poet's father.
In Cambridge streets were to be seen many of the sights characteristic
of New England village life, suggesting still the village life of
England when Shakespeare was a boy. The coach rumbled on its way to
Boston, then a little journey away, and old women gathered around
the town spring for their weekly washing of clothes. At the inn were
discussed all those questions of law, religion, and politics that had
not been settled at the town-meeting, and the village barber-shop,
with its choice collection of rarities, had the dignity of a museum.
So fascinating was this place that the boy who had to have his hair
cut was considered in luck, and was usually accompanied by several of
his play-fellows, who took this means of feasting their eyes upon the
barber's treasures. Here were tomahawks, Indian bows and arrows, New
Zealand paddles and war-clubs, beaks of albatrosses and penguins, and
whales' teeth; here were caged canaries and Java sparrows, and one
large cockatoo who, the barber asserted, spoke Hottentot. Old Dutch
prints covered the walls, and the boys were barbered under the
pictured eyes of Frederick the Great and Bonaparte. Perhaps the
choicest treasure was the glass model of a ship which the young
patrons valued at from one hundred to a thousand dollars, the barber
always acquiescing in these generous valuations.
Once a year Cambridge celebrated a curious festival called the
Cornwallis, in which, in masquerade, the town's people and country
people marched in grotesque processions in honor of the surrender of
Cornwallis. There was also the annual muster, when the militia
were drilled under the eyes of their admiring wives, mothers,
and daughters. But the great event of the year at Cambridge was
Commencement Day. The entire community was aroused to do its best
in the celebration of this festival, the fame of which had spread to
every corner of New England. The village was turned into a great
fair, where came every kind of vender and showman to take the places
assigned them by the town constable; the gayly decorated booths
extended in an orderly row along the streets, and the entire
population gaped unrestrained at the giants, fat women, flying horses,
dwarfs, and mermaids, only taking their eyes away long enough to
regale themselves with the ginger-beer and egg-pop, sold on the stands
or wheeled through the streets in hand-carts by the enterprising
venders. The college exercises were dignified and grave, as suited the
traditions of its classic halls, but to the boys who, like Lowell, had
but this one opportunity in the year, the marvels of the booths and
peep-shows made Commencement a red-letter day.
Another charm of old Cambridge was found in the river, which to the
boyish imagination led to fairy realms beyond. Once a year the sloop
Harvard, owned by the college, voyaged to the Maine coast to carry
back the winter supply of wood. Her going and coming was an event in
the life of the Cambridge schoolboy, who watched the departure with
wistful eyes, filled the time of absence with romantic imaginings of
adventure in the perilous seas, and welcomed her return with eager
thirst for the news she might bring. This humble little craft held no
secondary place in the interests of Lowell and his mates. The heroic
adventures of her crew inspired the boys to bold ventures on the duck
pond, the admiral of the home-made fleet being the young Dana, who
delighted an after-generation of boys by the story of his actual
adventures at sea in the fascinating book, _Two Years Before the
Mast_.
Lowell's first school was not far from Elmwood, and although he did
not distinguish himself for scholarship, he went willingly every
day, returning rather more willingly, perhaps, and sending always his
boyish salutation of a cheery whistle to his mother as he approached
the house. But in the daily life of the old village, and in the
rambles through wood and by stream, he learned lessons more valuable
than those he found in books. Nature, who appealed so strongly to his
heart, had made him a poet, and she took her own way of teaching him
the mysteries of his art.
Lowell enjoyed his singularly fortunate and happy boyhood as only
one gifted with a poetic mind could. To him New England village life
revealed a charm that enabled him in after-days to paint a picture
of it as lovingly faithful as one of Shakespeare's scenes. In his
charming reminiscence, _Cambridge Thirty Years Ago_, he has preserved
one of the dearest memories of his boyhood. _Beaver Brook_ and _Indian
Summer Reveries_ are also transcriptions of those idyllic days of his
youth.
Lowell entered Harvard in his sixteenth year and was graduated in his
twentieth, during which time he says he read everything except the
books in the college course. It was during these years, however, that
he studied the great poets of the world, while romances, travels,
voyages, and history were added as a flavor to his self-chosen course
of study.
Perhaps he showed the true bent of his mind in his boyhood poem,
addressed to the old horse-chestnuts, whose arms twined themselves
around his study-room at home. He was class poet for his year, but
was not allowed to read his poem, as he was at the time temporarily
suspended from the college. In this poem Lowell made good-natured fun
of Carlyle, Emerson, and other philosophers, whose thought was just
beginning to influence their generation, thus hinting the power which
made him later the most successful humorist of America.
After leaving college Lowell studied law and was admitted to the
bar, a profession which he almost immediately saw would make him
only miserable, and which he soon left. In his twenty-second year he
published his first book of verse under the title _A Year's Life_, a
volume which was mainly inspired by his admiration for the woman who
afterward became his wife, and which gives indication of the power
which was developed later, though in the after-editions of his works
the poet discarded most of the productions of that time. A little
later Lowell conceived the idea of starting a magazine, which should
rival in value and fame the celebrated Philadelphia magazines, which
were believed to stand for the highest literary art in America. The
magazine was named _The Pioneer_, and its editorship and ownership
were shared with a friend. It appeared in January, 1843, and ran
for three months, ending in dismal failure, though the contributors
numbered such names as Poe, Elizabeth Barrett, Whittier, and the
artist Story. It was not until twelve years later, when his own fame
was well established, that Lowell undertook the editorship of another
magazine, and put to practical use his reserve talent for adapting and
selecting for popular favor the best literary work of the time.
A year after the failure of _The Pioneer_, Lowell published a second
volume of poems. In this collection occur the poems _The Legend of
Brittany_; _Prometheus_, a poem founded on the old Greek myth of
Prometheus, who incurs the wrath of Jupiter by giving fire to mankind;
_The Heritage_, a stirring ballad, and _The Shepherd of King Admetus_,
embodying the myth of the coming of Apollo to King Admetus and his
gift of poesy to the world. The volume heralded the fame that Lowell
was afterward to attain as a poet.
In 1846 the Mexican war was the great political question of the day,
and the country was divided in opinion as to whether the Government
had undertaken the war in a spirit of justice, or merely for the sake
of acquiring new territory. The South mainly favored the war, while
a portion of the North opposed it on the principle that the new
territory would favor the extension of slavery. There was much talk
of glory, and the heroes of the day were the generals and soldiers who
were winning laurels on the Mexican battle-fields.
Lowell considered the war dishonorable and opposed to the principles
of liberty, and he took a firm stand against it. He did this, not,
as may be said, in his own way, for the way was new to him, but in a
manner that turned the vaunted heroism of the day into ridicule,
and appealed to the public conscience by its patriotism and honesty.
Keeping his own personality in the background, Lowell sent his wits
roving into the world of memory and brought from it a hero who was
destined to rival in fame the leader of the Mexican campaigns. This
hero possessed the old courage, fire, and enthusiasm which had braved
the British in Revolutionary days. His patriotism was a pure flame,
his wisdom that of the builders who had founded a commonwealth of
civil rights in the midst of the primeval forest; his common-sense
would have made him a king in Yankeedom, and his humor was as grim as
that of the old Puritans, who believed in fighting the devil with his
own weapons. He came on the scene dressed in homespun, and spoke the
homely dialect of New England, that singular speech so unlike any
other and which seems to have had grafted upon the original English
all the eccentricities which made the Puritans a peculiar people.
This singular figure which now attracted public attention was first
heard from in the columns of the Boston _Courier_, as the author of a
poem on the subject of the raising of volunteers for the Mexican War.
The poem was written in the Yankee dialect and, it was stated, had
been sent to the office by the poet's father, Ezekiel Biglow. The
verses rang with New England canniness, and the familiar dialect
acquired a dignity never before acknowledged. Scholars, statesmen,
critics, and the public at large, after a first few puzzling moments
grasped the full force of the new crusade, and the standard-bearer and
author, Hosea Biglow, became the most talked about man of the time.
Previous to this society had laughed at the reformers. Now people
laughed with Hosea at the supporters of the war. From this time Hosea
Biglow's sayings and doings were the most popular comment on the
political situation. Whatever happened was made the subject of a poem
by Hosea, expressing sometimes his own opinions and sometimes the
opinions of Parson Wilbur, John P. Robinson, and other persons
introduced into the series. These poems met with tremendous success.
Wherever it was possible they were set to music and sung with all the
abandon of a popular ballad. There is a story told to the effect that
John P. Robinson grew so tired of hearing the song in which he is
introduced that he fled across the sea in despair. This brought no
relief, however, for the street gamins of London and the travelling
American and Englishman, wherever he could be found, unconsciously
greeted his ears with the rollicking refrain:
"But John P.
Robinson, he
Sez they didn't know everythin'
Down in Judee."
Among the political poems occurs in "The Notices of the Press," which
form the introduction, the exquisite love-poem, _The Courtin'_.
In wit, scholarship, and knowledge of human nature, the Biglow papers
are acknowledged as a classic, and the future student of American
literature will be ever grateful for this preservation of the Yankee
dialect by New England's greatest poet.
Lowell's next important contribution to literature was the publication
of the poem, _The Vision of Sir Launfal_. This beautiful poem, in
which in a vision a young knight arms himself and starts in search of
the Holy Grail, reads like a sacred legend of the Middle Ages. It is
full of the pious spirit of the old monks who still believed the
story of the existence of the Holy Grail, and the possibility of its
recovery by the pure in heart. This story, which has appealed to the
art of every age, found in Lowell a poet worthy of its expression,
and one who has transcribed the mysticism of the past into the vital
charity of the present. Though a dream of the Old World, it is still
the New England poet who translates it, as may be seen from the bits
of landscape shining through it. Glimpses of the northern winter; of
the wind sweeping down from the heights, and of the little brook that
"Heard it and built a roof
'Neath which he could house him winter-proof,"
show the poet in his mood of loving reminiscence.
In his poems _Prometheus_, _The Legend of Brittany_, _Rhoecus_, and
the collection known as _Under the Willows_, which includes the
_Commemoration Ode_, Lowell shows his highest point as a poet, which
is also reached in _The Cathedral_. His was a large and generous
spirit, which found no experience or condition of life trivial. He was
in sympathy with nature and with the aims and happiness of humanity.
The affectionate side of his nature is shown in many of his poems,
one of the most beautiful being that which is expressed in _The First
Snowfall_, a tender and sacred memory of one of the poet's children.
The _Commemoration Ode_, written in honor of the Harvard graduates who
fell in the War for the Union, was read by Lowell July 21, 1865, at
the Commemoration Service held in their memory. No hall could hold the
immense audience which assembled to hear their chosen poet voice the
grief of the nation over its slain in the noblest poem produced by
the war. To those present the scene, which has become historic, was
rendered doubly impressive from the fact that Lowell mourned in his
verse many of his own kindred.
_A Fable for Critics_ is a satire in verse upon the leading authors of
America. The first bit was written and despatched to a friend without
any thought of publication. The fable was continued in the same way
until the daily bits were sent to a publisher by the friend, who
thought the matter too good for private delectation only. In this
production Lowell satirizes all the writers of the day, himself
included, with a wit so pungent and so sound a taste that the
criticism has appealed to the succeeding generation, which has
in nearly every case vindicated the poet's judgment of his
contemporaries. The authorship remained for some time unknown, and was
only disclosed by Lowell when claimed by others.
Besides his poetry Lowell produced several volumes of charming prose.
Among these is _The Fireside Travels_, which contains his description
of Cambridge in his boyhood; _Among My Books_, and _My Study Windows_,
which contain literary criticism of the choicest sort, the poet easily
taking rank as one of the foremost critics of his time. Throughout his
prose we find the same feeling for nature and love for humanity
that distinguishes his poetry. His whole literary career was but an
outgrowth of his own broad, sympathetic, genial nature, interwoven
with the acquirements of the scholar.
Lowell was for a large part of his life Professor of Modern Languages
and Belles-lettres at Harvard. Soon after its beginning he became
editor of the _Atlantic Monthly_, and he also was for a time one of
the editors of the _North American Review_.
Outside of his literary life he was known as a diplomat who served his
country with distinction as minister, successively, to Spain and
to England. Though finding congenial surroundings in foreign lands,
Lowell was always pre-eminently an American; one who, even in his
country's darkest hour, saw promise of her glory, and to whom her
fame was ever the dearest sentiment of his heart. Most of his life was
spent in his old home at Elmwood, where he died in 1892.