American jHen of Hetters. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER. 
 
American aften of letter^ 
 
 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN BIGELOW 
 
 7BESITTJ 
 
 ;< 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 1890 
 
Copyright, 1890, 
 Br JOHN BIGELOW. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside. Press, Cambridge, Manx., V. S A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed Jay 11. 0. Ilougnton & Company. 
 
PS//SI 
 Ss 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IF there is any excuse for this publication, it 
 must be found in the fact that I was associated 
 with Mr. Bryant for many years in the manage 
 ment of " The Evening Post " newspaper, my con 
 nection with it commencing at about the same 
 period of life as his ; in the fact that we there 
 contracted personal relations which he was pleased 
 late in life to crown by naming me one of the 
 executors of his will; and finally in the hope I 
 entertain that a compendious and comparatively 
 inexpensive sketch of his instructive career may 
 reach a class, not inconsiderable in numbers, who 
 have neither the leisure nor opportunities for pe 
 rusing the elaborate and scholarly biography by 
 Mr. Godwin. 
 
 Whatever may be the imperfections of this 
 work, and no one is likely to be more sensible 
 of them than I am, I permit myself to indulge 
 the hope that in quarters where the nature and 
 importance of Bryant s life-work are little known 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 or imperfectly appreciated, it may assist to awaken 
 a curiosity which will not be satisfied until the 
 name of Bryant has become a household word, 
 and his example the very lowest standard of pub 
 lic and private morals in any American family. 
 
 THE SQUIRRELS, February 3, 1890. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. ANCESTRY 1 
 
 II. SCHOOL-DAYS 
 
 III. LAW STUDIES 23 
 
 IV. THE BARRISTER 
 
 V. THE ADVENTURER 54 
 
 VI. THE JOURNALIST 
 
 VII. THE POET 117 
 
 VIII. THE TOURIST 176 
 
 IX. THE ORATOR 20 
 
 X. PUBLIC HONORS 215 
 
 XI. PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS . . . .258 
 
 XII. LAST DAYS . ...... 297 
 
 APPENDIX A. REMINISCENCES OF THE " EVENING POST," 
 
 BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 312 
 
 APPENDIX B. BRYANT S WILL 343 
 
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ANCESTKY. 
 
 EAKLY in the summer of 1817, a package of 
 manuscript poems was left at the office of the 
 " North American Review" 1 without their author s 
 name or any intimation of their real parentage. 
 In due time they found their way into the hands 
 of Mr. William Phillips, one of the editors of the 
 " Review," to whom they were addressed. 
 
 No sooner had he finished their perusal such is 
 the tradition than he seized his hat and set out 
 in hot haste for Cambridge, to submit them to his 
 editorial colleagues, Richard H. Dana and Edward 
 T. Channing, who with Mr. Phillips constituted 
 the Editorial Trinity to whom the management of 
 the " Review " was then confided. 
 
 They listened while the manuscript was read, 
 and what little was known of its history was reca 
 pitulated to them. " Ah, Phillips," said Dana at 
 last, his face breaking the while into a skeptical 
 
 1 This Review was published in Boston, and at this time was 
 but two years old. 
 
2 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 smile, " you have been imposed upon. No one on 
 this side of the Atlantic is capable of writing such 
 verse." Mr. Dana s view seemed to have so many 
 presumptions in its favor that he set out at once to 
 Boston to investigate the subject, with the aid of 
 such clues as the package itself afforded. The 
 final result of his inquiries was that Phillips, 
 though under an erroneous impression as to the 
 author, had not been imposed upon as to its Amer 
 ican genesis. 
 
 The verses which had produced such a fluttering 
 among the presiding justices of our highest literary 
 tribunal in those days were not an imported article, 
 still less the work of any American literary nota 
 bility of the period, but of a country lad of only 
 seventeen years, residing at Cummington, in the 
 western part of Massachusetts, who had never 
 been out of his native county in his life. One of 
 the poems was entitled "Thanatopsis." It appeared 
 in the September number of the " North American 
 Review " for 1817, and proved to be not only the 
 finest poem which had yet been produced on this 
 continent, but one of the most remarkable poems 
 ever produced at such an early age, and a poem 
 which would have added to the fame of almost any 
 poet of any age, while it would have detracted 
 from the fame of none. 
 
 From the day this poem appeared, the name of 
 its author, which till then had scarcely been heard 
 farther from home than the range of the human 
 voice, was classed among the most cherished liter- 
 
ANCESTRY. 3 
 
 ary assets of the nation. Like the mythic Hermes, 
 who before the sun had reached its zenith on the 
 day of his birth had stolen and slaughtered the 
 cattle of Apollo, young William Cullen Bryant, 
 with scarcely less startling precocity, before he was 
 out of his teens had possessed himself of Apollo s 
 lyre, and established himself as the undisputed 
 laureate of America. 
 
 One of the wisest of Spanish proverbs says, 1 
 " There is little curiosity about the pedigree of a 
 good man." 
 
 There certainly is no higher patent of nobility 
 than goodness, and yet the biographer cannot help 
 dwelling with satisfaction upon the fact that the 
 gifted bard whose career is to be the theme of the 
 following pages was descended through both his 
 parents from passengers in the Mayflower, the 
 oldest and noblest pedigree of which our republi 
 can heralds take any note. One of these ances 
 tors, Josiah Snell, married Anna Alden, the grand 
 daughter of Captain John Alden of the Mayflower 
 party and Priscilla Mullins, whose story is so 
 sweetly told by Longfellow. 2 
 
 The first of the name in this country and 
 founder of the family, Stephen Bryant, was also 
 one of the Mayflower party. The poet s great 
 
 1 Al hombre bueno no le busqtien abolengx). 
 
 2 "I cannot refer to this poem," says Mr. Godwin, "without 
 remarking 1 how much it adds to our interest in John and Priscilla 
 to know that our two earliest and most eminent poets, Bryant 
 and Longfellow, were descended from them." Godwin s Life, 
 I. 50. 
 
4 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 grandfather, Ichabod Bryant, was noted for his 
 gigantic size and strength. His grandfather, Dr. 
 Philip Bryant, who was a physician, lived to the 
 age of eighty-five, and visited his patients till 
 within a fortnight of his death. It is related of 
 the poet s uncle, Ebenezer Snell, Jr., that while at 
 work in his father s cornfield, hearing unusual 
 sounds he put his ear to the ground and recog 
 nized the thundering roar of distant cannon. It 
 was the memorable battle of Bunker Hill. He 
 enlisted at once as a volunteer, and later had the 
 distinguished privilege of witnessing the surrender 
 of Burgoyne at Saratoga. 
 
 Dr. Peter Bryant, the father of William Cullen, 
 in defiance of obstacles and privations in early life 
 to which a feeble nature must have succumbed, at 
 tained an honorable rank as a physician and sur 
 geon, was fond of books, was well read in his 
 profession according to the standard of the time, 
 had a more than elementary acquaintance with 
 some of the ancient and modern tongues, delighted 
 in poetry and music, played the violin, and was 
 sufficiently handy with tools to make for himself a 
 bass-viol, upon which he also learned to play. 
 
 His son has described him as a man of a mild 
 and indulgent temper, somewhat silent, though not 
 hesitating in conversation, not thrifty in a worldly 
 sense, his patients usually paying him whatever 
 they pleased. He was careful, however, and scru 
 pulously neat in his attire, and " had a certain 
 metropolitan air." In figure he was square built, 
 
ANCESTRY. 5 
 
 with muscular arms and legs, and in " his prime 
 was possessed of great strength." He took a lively 
 interest in politics, and belonged to the party called 
 Federalists, who at that time were strong in Massa 
 chusetts, but in the Union at large in a minority. 
 He represented Cummington for several successive 
 years in both branches of the Massachusetts legis 
 lature. 
 
 Of his mother, Sarah Snell, the daughter of 
 Ebenezer Snell, of Cummington, the poet has left 
 the following graphic portrait : 
 
 " She was born in North Bridge water, and was 
 brought by her father when a little child to Cum 
 mington. She was tall, of an erect figure, and 
 until rather late in life of an uncommonly youthful 
 appearance. She was a person of excellent prac 
 tical sense, of a quick and sensitive moral judg 
 ment, and had no patience with any form of deceit 
 or duplicity. Her prompt condemnation of injus 
 tice, ^even in those instances in which it is toler 
 ated by the world, made a strong impression upon 
 me in early life, and if in the discussion of public 
 questions I have in my riper age endeavored to 
 keep in view the great rule of right without much 
 regard to persons, it has been owing in a great de 
 gree to the force of her example, which taught me 
 never to countenance a wrong because others did. 
 My mother was a careful economist, which the cir 
 cumstances of her family compelled her to be, and 
 by which she made some amends for my father s 
 want of attention to the main chance. She had a 
 
6 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 habit of keeping a diary, in which the simple oc 
 cupations of the day and the occurrences in which 
 the family or the neighborhood had an interest 
 were noted down." 
 
 Having been taken to a new settlement when she 
 was only six years old, Mrs. Bryant had enjoyed 
 few of the advantages of a school-taught educa 
 tion. She had managed, nevertheless, to acquire a 
 creditable mastery of the rudimentary branches of 
 learning. As a wife and mother she did most of 
 the household work. She spun and wove, cut and 
 made most of the clothing of her large family, 
 wove her own carpets, made her own candles, 
 taught her children to read and write, and was one 
 of the first at the bedside of the sick and afflicted 
 of her neighborhood. She took a lively interest 
 in public affairs, both state and national, and ex 
 erted no inconsiderable influence in promoting 
 township and neighborhood improvements. She 
 was, in fact, a housewife fashioned on the old He 
 brew model : 
 
 " The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her. 
 She will do him good and not evil all the days of her 
 life. 
 
 " She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly 
 with her hands. 
 
 " She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat 
 to her household, and a portion to her maidens. 
 
 " She layeth her hands to the spindle, and her hands 
 hold the distaff. 
 
ANCESTRY. 1 
 
 t( She stretcheth out her hand to the poor ; yea, she 
 reacheth forth her hands to the needy. 
 
 " Strength and honor are her clothing ; and she shall 
 rejoice in time to come. 
 
 11 She openeth her mouth with wisdom ; and in her 
 tongue is the law of kindness. 
 
 " She looketh well to the ways of her household, and 
 eateth not the bread of idleness. 
 
 " Her children rise up, and call her blessed ; her hus 
 band also, and he praiseth her." 1 
 1 Proverbs xxxi. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 SCHOOL-DAYS. 
 
 1794-1810. 
 
 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, the second of seven 
 children of Dr. Peter and Sarah Snell Bryant, was 
 born at Cummington, 1 in the county of Hampshire, 
 
 1 In the Massachusetts Historical Society Collection, vol. xx. p. 
 41, may be found the following account of Cummington as it was 
 in 1820 : 
 
 "Name derived from Col. Cummings (John) of Concord, who 
 purchased this town of the General Court June 2d, 1762. 
 
 "Situated on a ridge of mountains and owing- to the abrupt 
 declivities of the hills, the pastures and woods may be viewed as 
 a picture. 
 
 Westfield River, a considerable stream, rising in Windsor runs 
 through this town in a southeast direction, and empties into the 
 Connecticut at Westfield. 
 
 "The inhabitants have a library of 72 volumes. The largest 
 private library belongs to Peter Bryant, Esq., and contains about 
 700 volumes. 
 
 " Hon. Peter Bryant, member of Massachusetts Medical Socie 
 ty, died of pulmonary consumption at his residence March 19, 
 1820, in the 53d year of his age. Born at Bridgewater August 
 12, 1767. Studied physic and surgery at Norton with Dr. Prilete, 
 a French practitioner. When about twenty-two years of age 
 came to Cummington, where he settled and acquired a very ex 
 tensive and lucrative practice and a reputation truly enviable. 
 He was also in the habit of instructing students in medicine. 
 These were attracted from different parts of the country 
 
SCHOOL-DA YS. 9 
 
 in the State of Massachusetts, on the third day of 
 the month of November, 1794. Our republic, con 
 sisting then of only fifteen States, was not quite ten 
 years old ; the second term of our first President 
 had not expired; Washington, Jefferson, Hamil 
 ton, Adams, Gallatin, and Madison were foremost 
 among- the statesmen to whom the nation had con- 
 
 O 
 
 fided its political destinies ; they were also the models 
 it commended to the young men of that and suc 
 ceeding generations. Europe was convulsed by the 
 new idea of human rights which for the first time 
 received national sanction and guaranties from 
 her wronged and exiled offspring on this side the 
 Atlantic, while Kant, Goethe, Schiller, and Burns 
 were in an unconscious way doing what in them lay 
 to reconcile her people to greater social and political 
 changes which were impending. 
 
 William Cullen was thought to be a precocious 
 child. On his first birthday there is a record that 
 " he could go alone, and when but a few days more 
 than sixteen months old, that he knew all the let 
 ters of the alphabet." 
 
 by his well-selected library, his extensive practice, and his general 
 reputation. The advantages enjoyed at this school are thought 
 to have been superior to any in the western part of the State. 
 
 In 1806 Williams College conferred on him the degree of Mas 
 ter of Arts, University of Cambridge that of Doctor of Physic 
 1818. 
 
 According to the Census of 1820 population of Cummington 
 1060." 
 
 Cummington was incorporated June 23, 1779. The first town 
 meeting was held December 20th, same year. At this meeting 
 Ebenezer Snell among others was elected one of the selectmen 
 and assessors. 
 
10 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 Though apt to learn, he is reported to have been 
 "puny and very delicate in body, and of a pain 
 fully delicate nervous temperament." 
 
 Before he had completed his fourth year he was 
 sent to the district school, " but not with much regu 
 larity." 
 
 " I have no recollection," he has told us, " of 
 irksomeness in studying my lessons or in the dis 
 cipline of the school. I only recollect gathering 
 spearmint by the brooks in company with my fel 
 low scholars, taking off my hat at their bidding in 
 a light summer shower that the rain might fall on 
 my hair and make it grow, and that I once awoke 
 from a sound nap to find myself in the lap of the 
 schoolmistress, and was vexed to be thus treated 
 like a baby." 
 
 In the spring of 1799, Dr. Bryant went to live at 
 the homestead of his wife s father, Ebenezer Snell, 
 a property which is still in the family. While 
 there William went with his elder brother Austin 
 to a district school kept in a little house which 
 then stood near by on the bank of the rivulet which 
 flows by the .dwelling. The instruction which he 
 received there was of the most elementary char 
 acter, stopping at grammar, unless we include 
 theology as learned from the Westminster Cate 
 chism, which was one of the Saturday exercises. 
 
 " I was an excellent, almost an infallible spell 
 er," he tells us, " and ready in geography ; but 
 in the Catechism, not understanding the abstract 
 terms, I made but little progress." He was also 
 
SCHOOL-DAYS. 11 
 
 one of the fleetest runners in the school, and not 
 inexpert at playing ball, though his frame was too 
 light for distinction in some of the rougher games. 
 
 In the year 1808, and in the twelfth year of his 
 age, it having been decided that he was worth 
 a collegiate education, he was sent to live with 
 his uncle, the Rev. Thomas Snell, at North Brook- 
 field, to perfect himself in Latin. In eight months 
 he had mastered all the language then required for 
 admission to the Sophomore class at Williams Col 
 lege, and on the 9th of August, 1809, he was 
 transferred to the care of the Rev. Moses Halleck, 
 in the neighboring township of Plainfield, to be 
 equipped with the requisite knowledge of Greek. 
 He always thought himself most fortunate in his 
 instructors, especially in the moral influence which 
 they exerted upon him at that tender age. 
 
 " My Uncle Snell," he tells us, " was a man of 
 fine personal appearance and great dignity of char 
 acter and manner, the slightest expression of whose 
 wish had the force of command. He was a rigid 
 moralist, who never held parley with wrong in any 
 form, and was an enemy of every kind of equiv 
 ocation. As a theologian, he was trained in the 
 school of Dr. Hopkins, which then, I think, in 
 cluded most of the country ministers of the Con 
 gregational Church in Massachusetts. The Rev. 
 Moses Halleck was somewhat famous for preparing 
 youths for college, and his house was called by 
 some the Bread and Milk College, for the reason 
 that bread and milk was a frequent dish at the 
 
12 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 good man s table. And a good man he really was, 
 kind and gentle and of the most scrupulous con 
 scientiousness. I value Mr. Halleck, my grand 
 father used to say, his life is so exemplary. He 
 was paid a dollar a week for my board and in 
 struction. I can afford it for that, he was in the 
 habit of saying, and it would not be honest to 
 take more. 
 
 With such guides and under such influences 
 young Bryant made marvelous proficiency. He 
 went through the Colloquies of Corderius, the 
 2Eneid, Eclogues, and Georgics of Virgil, and a 
 volume of the Select Orations of Cicero with his 
 uncle Snell in eight months, and in two months 
 with the Rev. Mr. Halleck, " knew the Greek Tes 
 tament as if it had been English." He then re 
 turned to his father s house to perfect his prepara 
 tions for admission to college by himself, with the 
 exception of two months in the following spring 
 spent with Mr. Halleck in the study of mathe 
 matics. 
 
 Bryant began to rhyme at almost as early a 
 period of life as a chicken begins to scratch, and 
 when scarce ten years old received a ninepenny 
 coin from his grandfather for a rhymed version 
 of the first chapter of the book of Job. The same 
 year he wrote and declaimed a rhymed descrip 
 tion of the school he attended, which was thought 
 worthy of a place in the columns of the county 
 paper. Though these early verses gave no par 
 ticular poetical promise, they were remarkable for 
 
SCHOOL-DAYS. 13 
 
 two characteristics by which all his poetry was 
 destined to be distinguished : the correctness both 
 of the measure and the rhyme. 
 
 At this early age he had already conceived the 
 hope and was inflamed by the ambition to be a 
 poet. There seemed to him to be no other kind of 
 success in life so desirable. He greedily devoured 
 whatever poetry fell in his way, and even made the 
 favors of the muse one of the subjects of his daily 
 devotions. 
 
 " In a community so religious," he relates, " I 
 naturally acquired habits of devotion. My mother 
 and grandmother had taught me, as soon as I could 
 speak, the Lord s Prayer and other little petitions 
 suited to childhood, and I may be said to have 
 been nurtured on Watts devout poems composed 
 for children. The prayer of the publican in the 
 New Testament was often in my mouth, and I 
 heard every variety of prayer at the Sunday even 
 ing services conducted by laymen in private houses. 
 But I varied in my private devotions from these 
 models in one respect, namely, in supplicating, as 
 I often did, that I might receive the gift of poetic 
 genius and write verses that might endure. I pre 
 sented this petition in those early years with great 
 fervor, but after a time I discontinued the practice, 
 I can hardly say why. As a general rule, what 
 ever I might innocently wish I did not see why I 
 should not ask, and I was a firm believer in the 
 efficacy of prayer. The Calvinistic system of di 
 vinity I adopted, of course, as I heard nothing else 
 
14 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 taught from the pulpit, and supposed it to be the 
 accepted belief of the religious world." 
 
 Bryant has recorded the delight with which in 
 those early days he and his brothers welcomed the 
 translation of the Iliad by Pope, when it was 
 added to their household library. He thought 
 them the finest verses that had ever been written, 
 not a very surprising estimate for a lad whose 
 poetical diet had consisted mainly of the hymns of 
 Dr. Watts. Already, too, his peculiar suscepti 
 bility to the poetical aspects of the varied phe 
 nomena of nature was fully developed. 
 
 "I was always," he says, "from my earliest 
 years, a delighted observer of external nature, 
 the splendors of a winter daybreak over the wide 
 wastes of snow seen from our windows, the glories 
 of the autumnal woods, the gloomy approaches of 
 the thunderstorm and its departure amid sunshine 
 and rainbows, the return of the spring with its 
 flowers, and the first snow-fall of winter. The 
 poets fostered this taste in me, and though at that 
 time I rarely heard such things spoken of, it was 
 none the less cherished in my secret mind." 
 
 The embargo laid upon all the ports of the 
 republic at the suggestion of President Jefferson 
 proved disastrous to many private interests in New 
 England, and rendered the President and his party 
 extremely unpopular in that section of the Union. 
 Dr. Bryant was a zealous Federalist, and as he rep 
 resented that party in the legislature for many 
 years, a good deal of political reading of an inflam- 
 
SCHOOL-DAYS. 15 
 
 matory character naturally found its way into the 
 Bryant household, and made all the boys more or 
 less ardent partisans. 
 
 It had already become so much the habit of 
 William Culleii to reduce to verse whatever in 
 terested him deeply, that it was probably with 
 out surprise that his father learned his son had 
 found relaxation from the study of Virgil and Cic 
 ero in inditing a satire against democracy and its 
 accredited chieftain. 
 
 The tone of his verses harmonized so completely 
 with the temper of the Federalists of Massachu 
 setts in those days, that his father encouraged him 
 to extend them until they numbered some five hun 
 dred lines, which the proud father took to Boston 
 and had published in a little pamphlet, partly no 
 doubt to indulge his zeal as a politician, but more 
 to indulge his fatherly pride. 1 
 
 Some disparaging lines about President Jeffer 
 son, concluding with a recommendation to him to 
 resign his office, have given to this poem a noto 
 riety which it never would have acquired but for 
 the fact that Mr. Bryant lived to become one of 
 
 1 This poem appeared in a thin pamphlet under the title of 
 The Embargo, or Sketches of the Times. A Satire by a Youth of 
 Thirteen. Boston. Printed for the purchasers, 1808. It sold 
 promptly, and received enough praise from the press to have 
 turned a lighter head than Bryant s. 
 
 The prompt sale of this satire encouraged the father to pub 
 lish a second edition the following year, with the addition of some 
 half-dozen shorter poems, and the author s name on the title- 
 page. In his mature years Bryant declined any responsibility for 
 these juvenilia. 
 
16 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 the most influential champions of the so-called 
 Jeffersonian democracy, and for the lack of more 
 effective weapons, it delighted the Federal press 
 occasionally to quote these lines about Jefferson, 
 omitting the fact that they were written when the 
 author was a schoolboy in roundabouts. 
 
 " And thou the scorn of every patriot s name 
 Thy country s ruin and thy council s shame ! 
 Poor servile thing 1 ! derision of the brave ! 
 Who erst from Tarleton fled to Carter s Cave ; 
 Thou who when menaced by perfidious Gaul, 
 Did st prostrate to her whisker d minion fall; 
 And when our cash her empty bags supplied 
 Did st meanly strive the foul disgrace to hide ; 
 Go, wretch, resign the Presidential chair, 
 Disclose thy secret measures, foul or fair. 
 Go search with curious eye for horrid frogs 
 Mid the wild wastes of Louisianian bogs ; 
 Or where Ohio rolls his turbid stream, 
 Dig for huge bones, thy glory and thy theme. 
 Go scan, Philosophist, thy Sally s charms, 
 And sink supinely in her sable arms ; 
 But quit to abler hands the helm of State." 
 
 Not discouraged by Jefferson s neglect to resign 
 the presidency at his bidding, the young poet is 
 next found disciplining Napoleon, who also had in 
 curred the censure of the good people of Hamp 
 shire County. The genius of Columbia is invoked, 
 and ten stanzas only are required to bring " the 
 Eastern despot s dire career " to an ignominious 
 close. 
 
 While neither the embargo nor any of the forty 
 or fifty smaller pieces of verse which date from his 
 school-days were thought by their author to be wor- 
 
SCHOOL-DAYS. 17 
 
 thy of appearing in any collection of his writings, 
 they were justly regarded by his contemporaries as 
 " the flowering laurel on his brow." Though but 
 " surface indications " of vernal fertility, they were 
 conspicuous for their correctness both in measure 
 and rhyme, about which he was always singularly 
 conscientious. Nor had his time been lost upon 
 them, for they had given him an uncommon dex 
 terity in handling the tools of the poet. Had he 
 not acquired this dexterity early in life and before 
 he was thrown upon his own resources for a liveli 
 hood, it may be doubted if he would now be most 
 widely known to the world as a poet. 
 
 Bryant entered the sophomore class at Williams 
 College on the 9th of October, 1810. " He was 
 well advanced in his sixteenth year," says one of 
 his classmates, "tall and slender in his physical 
 structure, and having a prolific growth of dark 
 brown hair." He was quick and dexterous in his 
 movements, and his younger brother used to brag 
 to other boys about his " stout brother," but after 
 wards learned that his strength was not so remark 
 able as his skill and alertness in the use of it. He 
 passed also for being comely in his appearance. 
 
 Dr. Fitch was President of Williams College 
 when Bryant entered, and was the sole instructor 
 of the senior class. Professor Chester Dewey 
 taught the junior class, and two recent graduates 
 superintended the recitations of the two lower 
 classes. As these four gentlemen represented the 
 entire educational force of this seat of learning at 
 
18 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 that time, we are not surprised to learn from the 
 poet himself " that the standard of scholarship 
 was so low that many graduates of those days 
 would be no more than prepared for admission as 
 freshmen now." l 
 
 Before the close of his first year he asked from 
 the college an honorable dismission. His purpose 
 then was to enter Yale at the commencement of 
 the next collegiate year. 2 The reason assigned 
 for this step was the example of his room-mate, to 
 whom he was greatly attached, and who had formed 
 the purpose of going to Yale at the same time. 
 From some verses, however, which he delivered be 
 fore one of the college societies, the existence of 
 motives less complimentary to the college were dis 
 closed. They show that he was satisfied neither 
 with the climate, town, college, nor its authorities. 
 The strength of his feeling upon the subject may 
 be inferred from the following extract : 
 
 "Why should I sing these reverend domes 
 Where Science rests in grave repose ? 
 
 1 1874-1875. 
 
 2 In a note addressed to the Rev. H. W. Powers, written only 
 a few months before his death, in 1878, Mr. Bryant said : 
 
 " I entered Williams College a year in advance, that is to say, 
 I was matriculated as sophomore, never having been a freshman. 
 I remained there two terms only, but I pursued my studies with 
 the intent to become a student at Yale, for which I prepared my 
 self, intending to enter the junior class there. My father, how 
 ever, was not able, as he told me, to bear the expense. I had re 
 ceived an honorable dismission from Williams College, and was 
 much disappointed at being obliged to end my college course in 
 that way." 
 
SCHOOL- DA YS. 19 
 
 Ah me ! their terrors and their glooms 
 Only the wretched inmate knows. 
 Where through the horror breathing hall 
 The pale-faced moping students crawl 
 Like spectral monuments of woe : 
 Or, drooping, seek the unwholesome cell 
 Where shade and dust and cobwebs dwell, 
 Dark, dirty, dank and low. 
 
 The facts were that the college was poor, the stu 
 dents were generally poor, the instruction in the 
 main must have been poor, and, to a person brought 
 up as Bryant had been, the diet and domestic ac 
 commodations seemed and doubtless were poor. 
 
 " When the time drew near that I should apply 
 for admission at Yale," says Bryant, " my father 
 told me that his means did not allow him to main 
 tain me at New Haven, and that I must give up 
 the idea of a full course of education. I have 
 always thought this unfortunate for me, since it 
 left me but superficially acquainted with several 
 branches of education which a college course would 
 have enabled me to master and would have given 
 me greater readiness in their application." 
 
 We only feel the want of what we have not, 
 commonly overlooking what Providence may have 
 substituted in its place, and it was natural for 
 Bryant to regret his ignorance of what he might 
 have learned in the two succeeding years at Yale ; 
 but I have little doubt that he passed that time far 
 more profitably than he was likely to have passed 
 it in any American college of that period, or, 
 indeed, perhaps of any period. He was at home, 
 
20 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 and surrounded, as he would not have been at col 
 lege, with the choicest domestic influences, and was 
 as diligent a student as he could or should have 
 been anywhere. If he lacked some advantages, he 
 secured others of equal or greater value, among 
 which the employments of the farm and an active 
 open-air life were to him of prime importance. 1 
 
 He carefully explored his father s medical library, 
 and read so much in it and with such profit that 
 he narrowly escaped being a physician. By the 
 aid of experiments performed in his father s labo 
 ratory and such text-books as he found at hand, he 
 acquired more than a smattering of chemistry. 
 From some books- in which the Linnaaan system 
 was explained and illustrated, he made himself 
 quite an accomplished botanist. He devoured, be 
 sides, all the poetry he could lay his hands on ; 
 enlarged his acquaintance with the literature of 
 antiquity, of which he had before only possessed 
 himself partially of the languages ; made extensive 
 translations from Lucian s Dialogues of the Dead 
 
 1 The quality of his daily life at this period may be gathered 
 from the following- lines written in 1812. They also show that he 
 was not quite reconciled to the "peasant s toil " which filled each 
 long 1 laborious day, in this respect not differing from most 
 other boys : 
 
 " The time has been when fresh as air 
 I loved at morn the hills to climb. 
 With dew drenched feet and bosom bare 
 And ponder on the artless rhyme ; 
 And through the long laborious day 
 (For mine has been the peasant s toil), 
 I hummed the meditated lay 
 While the slow oxen turned the soil." 
 
SCHOOL-DA YS. 21 
 
 in prose, and from Anacreon, Bion, and Sophocles 
 in verse, and became thoroughly imbued with what 
 was least perishable in the writings of Burns, Cow- 
 per, Thompson, Wordsworth, and Southey, and 
 later of Henry Kirke White, whose poetry had for 
 him at that time a peculiar fascination. 
 
 " The melancholy tone which prevails in them," 
 he says, " deepened the interest with which I read 
 them, for about that time I had, as young poets are 
 apt to have, a liking for poetry of a querulous 
 cast." 
 
 " Enterprising poverty," says Horace, " made me 
 a poet." l The restrictions, privations, and depress 
 ing associations which are the heritage of the youth 
 ful poor always lead them, at the age when the imag 
 ination is yet more active than the judgment, to 
 make a world for themselves which is abundantly 
 equipped with what their real life most lacks. To 
 perpetuate these dreams in verse is as natural for 
 them as to fly to shelter from a storm, or to seek 
 food when hungry. 
 
 The measure of poverty which recalled Bryant 
 from college, which shut out from his gaze the 
 great world and the expanded life about which he 
 had read in his books, which condemned him to the 
 "peasant s toil" on his father s farm, and the 
 sequestered life of his native village drove him 
 early 
 
 1 Decisis humilem pennis, inopemque paterni 
 Et laris et fundi, paupertas impulit audax 
 Ut versus facerem. 
 
 Epist. II. 2. 50. 
 
22 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 " To quiet valley and shaded glen 
 
 And forest and meadow and slope of hill," 
 
 where his teeming fancy constructed a world more 
 to his taste, a world which expanded with his years, 
 and in which he was destined to pass the happiest 
 and by far the largest portion of his life. Let 
 the aspiring lad who drags the chain of poverty, 
 and who sighs for the opportunities which wealth 
 alone confers, consider that those who have such 
 opportunities pretty uniformly dwell in houses 
 made with hands, and know nothing of the cloud- 
 capped towers and gorgeous palaces which the im 
 agination provides so generously for the gifted 
 poor. Hence perhaps it is, that great poets are so 
 scarce who in their early years have been swathed 
 in purple and fine linen and fared sumptuously 
 every day. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 LAW STUDIES. 
 
 1811-1814. 
 
 IF his parents could not allow William Cullen 
 the means of completing his course of study at col 
 lege, William Cullen was not the sort of boy to 
 allow himself to settle down at home in permanent 
 dependence upon them. With four brothers, each 
 more robust than himself, his services on the farm 
 were superfluous. Where and how was he to pro 
 vide for himself was the question which intruded 
 upon him perpetually from the moment he be 
 came aware that his academic hopes were extin 
 guished. He did not think seriously of literature 
 for a livelihood, though all his tastes allured him 
 in that direction. He had as yet no assurance of 
 his ability to attain any prominence among the 
 men of letters of his generation, and, had he meas 
 ured his forces less modestly, no one knew better 
 than he that literature in those days was anything 
 but a bread-winning profession. 
 
 It had been taken for granted almost from his 
 birth that he was to follow the calling to which his 
 paternal ancestors for three successive generations 
 
24 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 had been trained ; but the hardships of that calling 
 had proved so trying, and its rewards so scanty, that 
 Dr. Bryant was indisposed to entail it upon any 
 of his descendants. Perhaps, too, by the time this 
 crisis occurred in the young man s fortune, Dr. 
 Bryant had reached the conclusion at which most 
 intelligent physicians sooner or later arrive, that 
 they are more dependent for their livelihood upon 
 the credulity and ignorance of their patients than 
 upon their own skill, and he did not care to intro 
 duce his son to a profession in which he might 
 prove too conscientious to succeed. 
 
 The lively interest in the politics of the country 
 which William Cullen had exhibited from his ear 
 liest youth, and the success with which in his verses 
 he had on several occasions interpreted popular 
 emotions, suggested for him a public career. To 
 that, the profession of the law was then the most 
 if not the only remunerative avenue. The art of 
 entering public life penniless and in a few years 
 blooming into a millionaire was the discovery of a 
 considerably later stage of republican evolution. 
 
 The law was not precisely the calling to which 
 he could consecrate himself with his whole heart, 
 and he was not without misgivings that his shy and 
 sensitive nature unfitted him for the life of con 
 flict by which the votaries of Themis have to win 
 their laurels. Still it offered him the readiest 
 means then in sight of earning his bread by his 
 brains and a final exemption from the detested 
 "peasant toil." These considerations, strength- 
 
LA W STUDIES. 25 
 
 ened, as lie thought, by a perusal of the " Life of 
 Sir William Jones," 1 " kicked the beam," and in 
 December of the year he quit college, and in the 
 seventeenth year of his age he entered the law 
 office of a Mr. Howe, of Worthington, a quiet 
 little village some four or five miles from Cum- 
 mington. 
 
 A young man s first year s study of the law 
 commonly affects him like his first cigar, or his 
 first experience " before the mast." Such appears 
 to have been Bryant s experience. His new work, 
 which he was too conscientious to neglect, was not 
 "peasant s toil," but it was scarcely less irksome 
 to him. He sighed for the companionship and 
 studies of his old classmates. Worthington he 
 described to one of them in one of his moments 
 of dejection as consisting of " a blacksmith s shop 
 and a cow stable," where his only congenial enter 
 tainment was derived from the pages of Irving s 
 u Knickerbocker." 
 
 1 "One day," says Bryant in his autobiographic sketch, "my 
 uncle brought home a quarto volume, the Life of Sir William 
 Jones, by Lord Teignmouth, which he had borrowed, as I imag 
 ine, expressly for my reading. I read it with great interest, and 
 was much impressed with the extensive scholarship and other 
 literary accomplishments of Sir William. I am pretty sure that 
 his example made me afterward more diligent in my studies, and 
 I think also that it inclined me to the profession of the law, which 
 in due time I embraced. I recollect that a clergyman from a 
 neighboring parish who came to exchange pulpits with my uncle 
 observing me occupied with the book kindly said to me : You 
 have only to be as diligent in your studies as that great man was, 
 and. in time, you may write as fine verses as he did. " 
 
26 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 He was too shy to enjoy the little society that was 
 accessible to him, and incurred a rebuke from Mr. 
 Howe for giving to Wordsworth s " Lyrical Bal 
 lads " time that belonged to Blackstone and Chitty. 
 Then, too, he appears about this time to have ex 
 perienced an affection of the heart to which all 
 young men of his age are subject, especially if their 
 time is not fully or pleasantly occupied. Nothing 
 came of it, however, except verses. Even the name 
 of their inspiration has not been preserved. She 
 had " blue eyes," . . . "of timid look and soft 
 retiring mien," . . . " moist lip and airy grace of 
 frame." So much we learn from his tell-tale muse. 
 For two summers the young poet seems to have 
 worn the colors of this mysterious maid. Then mis 
 givings began to disturb the current of his passion, 
 which soon terminated in an explosion and a dec 
 laration of independence. His fair one seems to 
 have tried to impose terms upon her thrall which 
 his pride resented, and he took his leave of her and 
 of Love in terms which showed that his disen 
 chantment was complete. 
 
 " I knew thee fair I deemed thee free 
 
 From fraud and guile and faithless art ; 
 Yet had I seen as now I see 
 
 Thine image ne er had stained my heart. 
 
 " Trust not too far thy beauty s charms. 
 
 Though fair the hand that wove my chain 
 I will not stoop with fettered arms, 
 To do the homage I disdain. 
 
LAW STUDIES. 27 
 
 Yes, Love has lost his power to wound j 
 
 I gave the treacherous homicide. 
 With bow unstrung 1 and pinions bound, 
 A captive to the hand of pride." 
 
 This heroic termination of his first love affair was 
 naturally the prelude to other changes. Worth- 
 ington was too small a place, and its literary and 
 social horizon too circumscribed, to long content a 
 young man who already felt the expansive forces 
 of genius. He pined for the privilege of pursu 
 ing his studies in Boston. His father replied to 
 his appeals that they could not be indulged except 
 at an expense which would work injustice to the 
 other members of the family. They compromised, 
 and he went to Bridgewater, a somewhat larger 
 town than Worthingtoii and the residence of his 
 grandfather, Dr. Philip Bryant, with whom he was 
 to reside. He there entered the law office of Mr. 
 William Baylies, a cultivated gentleman and a 
 jurist of considerable repute. 
 
 Young Bryant found the association congenial 
 in every way, and at once concentrated upon the 
 studies of his profession all the devotion he had 
 been accustomed to waste upon " blue eyes " and 
 " moist lips " during his residence at Worthington. 
 
 This change of state is faithfully noted in some 
 lines addressed about this time " to a friend on his 
 marriage," and published a few years later in the 
 " North American Review." 
 
 "O er Coke s black letter 
 Trimming the lamp at eve, tis mine to pore, 
 Well pleased to see the venerable sage 
 
28 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 Unlock his treasured wealth of legal lore ; 
 
 And I that loved to trace the woods before, 
 
 And climb the hills a playmate of the breeze, 
 
 Have vowed to tune the rural lay no more, 
 
 Have bid my useless classics sleep at ease, 
 
 And left the race of Bards to scribble, starve, and freeze." 
 
 Bryant a little overstated the measure of liis loyalty 
 to " Coke s black letter," for within a month after 
 his installation at Bridgewater he appears in the 
 role of " the poet " at a Fourth, of July celebra 
 tion in the village, and, while deploring in some 
 indifferent verses the folly of war, rejoiced over the 
 downfall of Napoleon, upon whose movements he 
 still kept a pretty sharp eye, and to heaven and 
 England ascribed all the honor and glory of deliv 
 ering the world from a scourge. 
 
 To thee the mighty plan we owe 
 
 That bade the world be free ; 
 The thanks of nations, Queen of Isles, 
 
 Are poured to heaven and thee. 
 Yes, hadst not thou with fearless arm 
 
 Stayed the descending scourge, 
 These strains, that chant a nation s birth, 
 
 Had haply hymned its dirge." 
 
 This poem, how r ever, deserves to be regarded rather 
 as the discharge of a civic duty than an infidelity 
 to Coke, and certain it is that the written evidences 
 that survive of his assiduity as a law student at 
 this period are abundant and conclusive. 
 
 The best possible proof of his diligence may 
 be found in the relations the young student early 
 established with Mr. Baylies, who during his ab- 
 
LAW STUDIES. 29 
 
 sence at the seat of government 1 appears by their 
 correspondence to have left his home business, po 
 litical as well as professional, mainly in Bryant s 
 hands. His constituents were wont to repair to 
 Bryant to learn what their representative at Wash 
 ington thought and was doing, and Baylies stud 
 ied Bryant s letters to know the views of his 
 constituents. The war of 1812 was very unpop 
 ular in Bridgewater. Mr. Madison was known as 
 " His Imbecility " in the young patriot s corre 
 spondence, and " His Imbecility " was warned if he 
 imposed any more taxes the people would revolt. 
 Nay, this predestined editor of the New York 
 " Evening Post," and one of the most eloquent 
 and uncompromising of all the American Ciceros 
 in denouncing the Catilines of disunion a half cen 
 tury later, did not hesitate, in one of his ecstasies 
 of youthful enthusiasm, to advise an open defiance 
 of the Federal government if it persisted in the 
 war. He even solicited a commission in the army, 
 not for the defense of the United States, but for 
 the defense of his native State against the United 
 States, and the letter in which he opened his pur 
 pose to his father in October, 1814, was as full of 
 treason as the Southern Confederate manifesto of 
 1860. 
 
 " I have a question for you," he wrote, " whether 
 it would be proper for me to have anything to do 
 with the army which is to be raised by voluntary 
 
 1 Mr. Baylies was a member of Congress almost uninter 
 ruptedly from 1809 to 1817, and again for the years 1833-34-35. 
 
30 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 enlistment for the defense of the State. Attached 
 as you are to your native soil, to its rights and 
 safety, you could not surely be unwilling that your 
 son should proffer his best exertions and even his 
 life to preserve them from violation. The force 
 now to be organized may not be altogether em 
 ployed against a foreign enemy ; it may become 
 necessary to wield it against an intestine foe in 
 the defense of dearer rights than those which are 
 endangered in a contest with Great Britain. If we 
 create a standing army of our oiun -if we take 
 into our oivn hands the public revenue (for these 
 things are contemplated in the answer to the 
 Governor s message) we so far throw off all our 
 allegiance to the general government ; we disclaim 
 its control and revert to an independent empire. 
 The posture therefore which is now taken by the 
 State Legislature, if followed up by correspondent 
 measures, is not without hazard. If we proceed 
 in the manner we have begun and escape a civil 
 war, it will probably be because the Administra 
 tion is awed by our strength from attempting our 
 subjection. By increasing that strength, therefore, 
 we shall lessen the probabilit} 7 of bloodshed. Every 
 individual who helps forward the work of collect 
 ing this army takes the most efficient means in his 
 power to bring the present state of things to a 
 happy conclusion. ... It is not probable that the 
 struggle in which we are to be engaged will be a 
 long one. The war with Britain certainly will not. 
 The people cannot exist under it, and if the gov- 
 
LA \V STUDIES, 31 
 
 ernment will not make peace Massachusetts must. 
 Whether there may be an intestine contest or not 
 admits of doubt ; and if there should be, the entire 
 hopelessness of the Southern States succeeding 
 against us will probably terminate it after the first 
 paroxysm of anger and malignity is over." 
 
 It is curious and instructive to see how precisely 
 the arguments used by this hyper-patriotic young 
 enthusiast correspond with those by which the 
 Southern States of our Union, less than a half 
 century later, were beguiled into open rebellion 
 against the same national government. He rec 
 ommends " a standing army of our own," to be 
 officered " not by the President " but " by our Gov 
 ernor," and "the taking into our own hands the 
 public revenue," the very step that compelled the 
 military occupation of Fort Sumter by Federal 
 troops. These, like similar measures in 1860, 
 were expected " to awe the administration at 
 Washington from attempting our subjection " 
 and to be followed, as proposed in 1861, by an 
 alliance with England and the final reduction of 
 the Southern States, either by the superior force 
 of these Northern Confederates, or by despair, as 
 later the Northern States were confidently ex 
 pected to yield to the assumed physical or moral 
 superiority of the Southern Confederates. 
 
 Not long after the letter to his father just cited 
 was written, Bryant wrote another to Mr. Baylies, 
 in the course of which he said : 
 
 " We hear that you legislators have got through 
 
32 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 with the Conscription bill and it is presented to the 
 President to receive his sanction. God forgive the 
 poor perjured wretch [ His Imbecility, Mr. Mad 
 ison, is the unfortunate party here referred to] if 
 he dare sign it. If the people of New England 
 acquiesce in this law I will forswear Federalism." 1 
 
 Bryant proved as good as his word. The people 
 of New England did acquiesce, and he did for 
 swear Federalism. 
 
 If the people of South Carolina, when they fired 
 upon Fort Sumter to prevent the collection of the 
 Federal revenues in the port of Charleston, in 
 1861, had been able to quote this letter, which its 
 author had, no doubt, forgotten, his unfaltering 
 sense of justice would possibly have constrained him 
 to deal more charitably with at least that portion of 
 the insurgent population that was under twenty- 
 one years of age than he did, or than the public 
 opinion of the North was then prepared to tolerate. 
 
 The family seem to have done nothing to dis 
 courage William Cullen s military aspirations, for 
 in the year following, in July, 1816, a commission 
 as adjutant in the Massachusetts militia was sent 
 to him. 2 Meantime, however, the treaty of peace 
 
 1 This threat was the last ditch in embryo. 
 
 2 The following- letter, dated Cummington, November 16, 
 1814, has recently been discovered in the Massachusetts State 
 Archives. The Hartford Convention met on the 15th of Decem 
 ber following- : 
 To his Excellency Caleb Strong, Governor and Commander-in-chief 
 
 of tfie Commonwealth of Massachusetts: 
 
 Humbly represents that William C. Bryant, of Cummingion, 
 in the County of Hampshire, your petitioner, being- desirous to 
 
LAW STUDIES. 33 
 
 had been negotiated at Ghent, and the Federalists 
 were so delighted with the result that Bryant con 
 cluded to throw up his commission and to give the 
 government at Washington another trial. 
 
 It is a curious fact that the army which has fur 
 nished the inspiration of so much good poetry can 
 hardly be said to have given to the world a single 
 great poet, and yet the most eminent English and 
 the most eminent American poet were both at one 
 time on the point of embracing the profession of 
 arms. 1 Had they done so, it is doubtful if either 
 would ever have been heard of again as a bard. 
 
 In August of the year in which the war with 
 England was brought to a close, Bryant came of 
 age and was admitted to the bar. With his license 
 in his pocket he took leave of Bridgewater on the 
 15th of the month, and returned to his family in 
 Cumrnington, to take counsel in regard to the fu 
 ture, towards which he had thus far been walking 
 by faith rather than by sight. 
 
 enter the service of the State, in the present struggle with a pow 
 erful enemy, respectfully solicits your Excellency for a lieuten 
 ancy in the army about to be raised for the protection and defense 
 of Massachusetts. Your petitioner presumes not to choose his 
 station, but were he permitted to express a preference, he would 
 request the place of first lieutenant in the First Regiment of In 
 fantry, but in this, as becomes him in all things, he is willing to 
 rest on your Excellency s decision. Should your Excellency be 
 induced to favor his wishes in this respect, he hopes to be faithful 
 and assiduous in the discharge of his duty. And your petitioner 
 shall ever pray, etc. WILLIAM C. BRYANT. 
 
 1 Phillips tells us that it was in contemplation at one time to 
 make his uncle, John Milton, adjutant-general in Sir William 
 Waller s army. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE BARRISTER. 
 
 1815-1822. 
 
 WHERE young Bryant was to pursue his profes 
 sion was now as embarrassing a problem in the 
 Bryant household as the choice of a profession to 
 pursue had been four years before. He yearned 
 to go to Boston ; but how was an unknown and 
 morbidly shy young man like him to subsist in that 
 comparatively expensive city while its inhabitants 
 were discovering his professional merits ? North 
 ampton, New Bedford, and other places were in 
 turn discussed, but for one reason or another re 
 jected, and finally, taking counsel of the family 
 exchequer, he decided " to settle " at Plainfield, a 
 modest village in full view of Cummington, though 
 four or five miles distant, where, though his legal 
 skill might not be in great demand, his expenses 
 would be proportionately light. Plainfield is still 
 a village of less than five hundred inhabitants. 
 Seventy years ago, when the sign of " William Cul- 
 len Bryant, Attorney-at-Law " decorated its princi 
 pal street, it had less than one fourth its present 
 population. Time has vindicated the conclusion 
 
THE BARRISTER. 35 
 
 which soon forced itself upon him, that there was 
 no future for a lawyer in Plainfield, and that the 
 earliest opportunity of taking his professional ac 
 complishments to a better market was not to be 
 neglected. He had been there but about eight 
 months when he was invited to enter into partner 
 ship with a young lawyer of Great Harrington, 
 whose practice was then worth about $1200 a year. 
 Bryant accepted the proposal with alacrity, and 
 early in the month of October, 1816, set out for 
 his new field of labor on the banks of the Housa- 
 tonic. Of this change of base, Bryant has left the 
 following account : 
 
 " I had attempted the practice of the law in a 
 neighborhood where there was little employment 
 for one of my profession, and, after a twelve 
 months trial, I transferred my residence to Great 
 Harrington, near the birthplace and summer resi 
 dence of Miss Sedgwick, in the pleasant county of 
 Berkshire. It was on the 3d of October that I 
 made the journey thither from Cummington. The 
 woods were in all the glory of autumn, and [in 
 1871] I well remember as I passed through Stock- 
 bridge how much I was struck by the beauty of 
 the smooth green meadows on the banks of that 
 lovely river which winds near the Sedgwick fam 
 ily mansion ; the Housatonic, whose gently flow 
 ing waters seemed tinged with the gold and crim 
 son of the trees that overhung them. I admired 
 no less the contrast between this soft scene and the 
 steep, craggy hills that overlooked it, clothed with 
 
36 WILL I AM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 their many-colored forests. I had never before 
 seen the southern part of Berkshire, and congratu 
 lated myself on becoming an inhabitant of so pic 
 turesque a region." 
 
 It is too characteristic of Bryant to escape no 
 tice, that the things which absorbed his attention 
 and commended this new home to his affections were 
 the smooth green meadow, the gently flowing wa 
 ters of the Housatonic ; the craggy hills, the many- 
 colored forests, while not a thought is given appar 
 ently to the indications of social, industrial, and 
 commercial activities of the country around him, 
 out of which as a lawyer he might hope to get 
 a livelihood. His eye was more intent upon the 
 material his new home would afford him for mak 
 ing verses than for making briefs. 
 
 Before the first year of his partnership had rolled 
 around he purchased his partner s interest " for a 
 mere trifle," and from that time until his retire 
 ment from the profession prosecuted it alone. 
 
 Though now as comfortably established as the 
 average country lawyer, Bryant did not " accept the 
 situation " cheerfully. Writing to his old teacher 
 and friend, Mr. Baylies, he says : 
 
 " You ask whether I am pleased with my pro 
 fession. Alas, sir, the muse was my first love, 
 and the remains of that passion which is not cooled 
 out nor chilled into extinction will always, I fear, 
 cause me to look coldly on the severe beauties of 
 Themis. Yet I tame myself to its labors as well 
 as I can, and have endeavored to discharge with 
 
THE BARRISTER. 37 
 
 punctuality and attention such of the duties of my 
 profession as I am capable of performing." 
 
 While he had a partner the trial and argument 
 of causes fell mostly to him, but when they sepa 
 rated he had to resume the duties of the barrister. 
 Speaking of this change he wrote to Mr. Baylies : 
 
 " I am trying my hand at it again. . . . Upon 
 the whole I have every cause to be satisfied with 
 my situation. Place a man where you will, it is an 
 easy thing for him to dream out a more eligible 
 mode of life than the one which falls to his lot. 
 While I have too much of the mauvaise honte to 
 seek opportunities of this nature, I have whipped 
 myself up to a desperate determination not to avoid 
 them." 
 
 There is something in the tone of this letter which 
 sho\vs that the dove from young Bryant s ark had 
 not yet found its resting-place. Audax paupertas 
 was doing, but had not yet done for him its perfect 
 work. It had effectively thus far prevented his 
 becoming content with the opportunities and alli 
 ances then within his reach. It was still his best 
 friend. It had better work and on a larger the 
 atre in reserve for him than the invisa nego- 
 tia of settling the disputes of country villagers. 
 The Fates were spinning for him the thread out of 
 which quite a different destiny was to be woven 
 than was yet in sight. 1 
 
 1 In a lengthy notice of Bryant which appeared in the Berk 
 shire Eagle shortly after his death, June 20, 1878, some facts 
 relating- to his professional career are given which seem too char- 
 
38 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 In June of 1817 Bryant received a letter from 
 his father, then in Boston, informing him that Mr. 
 Willard Phillips, an old Hampshire friend, had in- 
 
 acteristic to be overlooked in any sketch of the events which 
 shaped the ends of the maturing poet and journalist. 
 
 In the old times there were three grades of lawyers in Massa 
 chusetts : Attorneys of the Common Pleas, entitled to practice 
 in that court, Attorneys of the Supreme Court, entitled to man 
 age cases in that tribunal, and Counselors of the Supreme Court, 
 who alone had the right to argue cases before the full bench. 
 Mr. Bryant s admission at Plymouth was to the Common Pleas: 
 at the September term, 1817, he was admitted an attorney of the 
 Supreme Court, and at the same term in 1819 as counselor ; Cal 
 vin Martin, Esq., of this town, and Charles A., afterwards Judge, 
 Dewey, taking these legal degrees at the same time. Mr. Bry 
 ant was an active, learned, and rather fiery young lawyer. His 
 name appears four or five times in the reports of the Supreme 
 Court, which would indicate a practice somewhat greater than 
 the majority of lawyers obtained in those days at his age. He 
 was not particularly distinguished as a lawyer, but might have 
 become so could he have overcome his disgust with a profession 
 in which then, even more than at present law was not 
 synonymous with justice. Finally he struck upon an experience 
 which, if the well supported tradition of the bar is to be trusted, 
 was so intolerable that he relinquished practice altogether. The 
 case, that of Grotius Bloss vs. Augustus Tobey, of Alford, is re 
 ported in the second volume of Massachusetts Reports. 
 
 " Mr. Bryant had obtained for Bloss a verdict of $500 for slander 
 by Tobey, who appealed, having E. H. Mills, General Whiting, 
 and Henry W. Dwight as counsel. At the law term of the Su 
 preme Court, in 1824, Mr. Bryant having submitted a plain, 
 common-sense argument in writing during the vacation, the 
 case was decided against him, by an opinion which is thus sum 
 marized in the Reports : 
 
 " Simply to burn one s store is not unlawful, and the words, 
 " He burnt his store" or "there is no doubt in my mind that he 
 burned his own store, he would not have got his goods insured if he 
 had not meant to burn it," or a general allegation that the defend 
 ant charged the plaintiff with having 1 willfully and maliciously 
 
THE BARRISTER. 39 
 
 timated to him a desire that William Cullen would 
 contribute to the " North American Review," then 
 only two years old, of which Phillips was an asso 
 ciate editor. In communicating this invitation to 
 his son, the doctor advised him to avail himself of 
 it as a means of making himself favorably known 
 at the state capital, " for those who contribute," 
 he added, " are generally known to the literati in 
 and about Boston." While William Cullen had 
 Mr. Phillips s request under consideration his de 
 cision was curiously anticipated. Doctor Bryant 
 having occasion one day to look through the draw 
 ers in his son s desk, which he had left behind him 
 at Cummington, his eyes fell upon some manuscript 
 verses, one of which proved to be the poem to 
 
 burnt his own store, will not sustain an action for slander without 
 a colloquium or averment setting forth such circumstances as would 
 render such burning unlawful, and that the words were spoken 
 of such circumstances; and the want of such colloquium will 
 not be cured by an innuendo. 
 
 " Thus, for a technical omission which did not in the least obscure 
 the meaning of Mr. Bryant s declaration, his client s just rights 
 were denied. That his claim to damage was just the court ad 
 mitted practically, Chief Justice Parsons prefacing its opinion, by 
 remarking : It is with great regret, and not without much labor 
 and research, to avoid this result, that we are obliged to arrest 
 judgment. 
 
 " I\lr. Bryant s just indignation against an administration of the 
 law which compelled its servants to do acknowledged wrong to 
 those who sought justice in its highest state tribunal led him to 
 be ready to relinquish his profession at the first opportunity ; his 
 feeling being probably intensified by an angry quarrel with Gen 
 eral Whiting concerning the costs, in which the disputants be 
 came so heated that it is remembered to this day by those who 
 witnessed it. 
 
40 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 which he had given the name of " Thanatopsis " (a 
 View of Death), and the other " An Inscription 
 upon the Entrance to a Wood." He read them, and 
 was so impressed by them that he hurried off at 
 once to the house of a lady friend residing in the 
 neighborhood, and thrusting the verses into her 
 hand exclaimed, while tears ran down his cheeks, 
 " Read them, they are Cullen s." 
 
 Without communicating his intention to his son, 
 the good doctor with as little delay as possible set 
 out for Boston with these poems to show them to 
 his friend Phillips. The result of his visit has 
 already been recited. 
 
 " Thanatopsis " appeared in the September num 
 ber of the "North American Review" for 1817. 
 It was written by Bryant, Mr. Godwin tells us, 
 
 " shortly after he was withdrawn from college, while re 
 siding with his parents at Cummington in the summer of 
 1811, and before he had attained his eighteenth year. 
 
 " There was no mistaking the quality of these verses. 
 The stamp of genius was upon every line. No such 
 verses had been made in America before. They soon 
 found their way into the school books of the country. 
 They were quoted from the pulpit and upon the hustings. 
 Their gifted author had a national fame before he had 
 a vote, and in due time Thanatopsis took the place 
 which it still retains among the masterpieces of English 
 didactic poetry." 
 
 The poem which accompanied " Thanatopsis " 
 and appeared in the same number of the " Review " 
 under the title of " Fragment " is now known as 
 
THE BARRISTER. 41 
 
 "An Inscription for the Entrance to a Wood." 1 
 Though not sufficient, perhaps, to confer a rep 
 utation, it contributed largely to confirm and 
 strengthen one already made. With two such 
 poems as " Thanatopsis " and " The Fragment " 
 sleeping in his desk, it may be assumed that dur 
 ing the six succeeding years, in which we have 
 followed the young poet in his efforts to solve the 
 more practical problems of life, he had not left his 
 poetical talent wrapped in a napkin. On the con 
 trary, his muse was his comforter, counselor, and 
 friend, with whom he uniformly took refuge from 
 the perplexities, doubts, and discouragements of his 
 professional life. She always sent him back to his 
 daily task resigned, if not contented. The tone of 
 his life at this period is reflected as in a mirror 
 from his verses. The closing passage of his poem 
 on " Green River " no doubt presents the state of 
 feelings which was habitual with him, while, like 
 Samson grinding in the prison house of the Phil 
 istines, he felt himself inexorably condemned for 
 life to obscurity and " low thoughted care." 
 
 " Though forced to drudge for the dregs of men, 
 And scrawl strange words with the barbarous pen, 
 And mingle among the jostling crowd 
 Where the sons of strife are subtle and loud, 
 I often come to this quiet place 
 To breathe the airs that ruffle my face, 
 And gaze upon thee in silent dream ; 
 For in thy lonely and lovely stream 
 An image of that calm life appears 
 That won my heart in my greener years." 
 
 1 The first title was doubtless given it by the editors, the latter 
 was subsequently given it by its author. 
 
42 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 When he journeyed on foot over the hills to 
 Plainfield on the 15th of December, 1816, to see 
 what inducements it offered him to commence there 
 the practice of the profession to which he had just 
 been licensed, he says in one of his letters that he 
 felt " very forlorn and desolate." The world seemed 
 to grow bigger and darker as he ascended, and 
 his future more uncertain and desperate. The sun 
 had already set, leaving behind it one of those 
 brilliant seas of chrysolite and opal which often 
 flood the New England skies, and, while pausing to 
 contemplate the rosy splendor, with rapt admira 
 tion, a solitary bird made its winged way along 
 the illuminated horizon. He watched the lone wan 
 derer until it was lost in the distance. He then 
 went on with new strength and courage. When 
 he reached the house where he was to stop for 
 the night he immediately sat down and wrote the 
 lines " To a Waterfowl," the concluding verse of 
 which will perpetuate to future ages the lesson in 
 faith which the scene had impressed upon him. 
 
 " He who, from zone to zone, 
 
 Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 
 In the long 1 way that I must tiead alone, 
 Will lead my steps aright." 1 
 
 Bryant was only twenty-one years of age when he 
 wrote this poem, which by many is thought to be 
 the one they would choose to preserve, if all but 
 one of his poems were condemned to destruction. 2 
 
 1 Godwin s Life of Bryant, vol. i. p. 144. 
 
 2 I have from Mr. Parke Godwin an incident which belongs to 
 
THE BARRISTER. 43 
 
 There is something strangely pathetic in the fol 
 lowing lines written in 1815, and while still a 
 student at home. 
 
 " I cannot forget with what tender devotion 
 I worshiped the visions of verse and of fame ; 
 Each gaze at the glories of earth, sky, and ocean, 
 To my kindled emotions was wind over flame. 
 
 " And deep were my musings in life s early blossom, 
 Mid the twilight of mountain groves wandering long, 
 How thrilled my young veins, and how throbbed my full bosom, 
 When o er me descended the Spirit of Song. 
 
 * Bright Visions ! I mixed with the world and ye faded. 
 No longer your pure rural worshiper now ; 
 In the haunts your continued presence pervaded 
 Ye shrink from the signet of care on my brow. 
 
 the history of this poem. In a note to me dated Roslyn, Novem 
 ber 6, 1889, he says : 
 
 " Once when the late Matthew Arnold, with his family, was 
 visiting the ever-hospitable country home of Mr. Charles But 
 ler, I happened to spend an evening there. In the course of it 
 Mr. Arnold took up a volume of Mr. Bryant s poems from the 
 table, and turning to me said, This is the American poet, fa 
 cile princeps ; and after a pause he continued : When I first 
 heard of him, Hartley Coleridge (we were both lads then) came 
 into my father s house one afternoon considerably excited and 
 exclaimed, Matt, do you want to hear the best short poem in 
 the English language ? " "Faith, Hartley, I do," was my reply. 
 He then read a poem "To a Waterfowl" in his best manner. 
 And he was a good reader. As soon as he had done he asked, 
 11 What do you think of that ? " "I am not sure but you are right, 
 Hartley; is that your father s ? " was my reply. " No," he re 
 joined, " father has written nothing like that." Some days after 
 he might be heard muttering to himself, 
 
 " " The desert and illimitable air, 
 
 Lone wandering, but not lost." " 
 
44 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 " In the old mossy groves on the breast of the mountains, 
 In deep lonely glens where the waters complain, 
 By the shade of the rock, by the gush of the fountain, 
 I seek your loved footsteps, but seek them in vain. 
 
 " Oh leave not forlorn and forever forsaken 
 Your pupil and victim, to life and its tears ; 
 But sometimes return, and in mercy awaken 
 The glories ye showed to his earlier years." 
 
 It is by no means the least singular thing about 
 all these exquisite verses that they should have 
 slept several years in their author s portfolio, 
 neither read, seen, nor even heard of by any other 
 living soul. His early " prentice " verses he was 
 wont to read to his father and to other members of 
 the family, but when " the Spirit of Song " de 
 scended upon him he became as shy as a maiden 
 who first feels, not yet comprehending, the myste 
 ries of love. He no longer showed his verses even 
 to his father, and but for the accident that be 
 trayed his secret no one can confidently say when, 
 if ever, any of those verses would have seen the 
 light. " Thanatopsis " was already six years old 
 when it was printed ; "The Fragment," two years; 
 "To a Waterfowl," three years; and "I cannot for 
 get with what fervid devotion," eleven years. 
 
 Such " patient waiting " is very rare, with young 
 writers at least, but Bryant even then had no am 
 bition to be a mere newspaper poet. Whatever 
 may have been his own estimate of his verses, he 
 knew that time could not deprive them of any of 
 their value. Whether they were vein ore or only 
 washings he evidently had not fully settled in his 
 
THE BARRISTER. 45 
 
 own mind when his father took some specimens 
 to Boston to be subjected to the assay of public 
 opinion. 
 
 The reception of " Thanatopsis " in 1817 and 
 of " To a Waterfowl " in 1818 removed whatever 
 doubts lingered in his own or the public mind in 
 regard either to the dignity or fertility of his muse, 
 one of the immediate fruits of which was an invi 
 tation from Mr. Phillips l to enlist among the reg 
 ular contributors to the " Review," an invitation 
 of which he was only too happy to avail himself, 
 for to his provincial vision it seemed the only gate 
 through which he might at last find his way to 
 that great world of which, like Rasselas, he had 
 dreamed so much, but knew so little. 
 
 A collection of American poetry by Solyman 
 Browne was suggested to him for review. After 
 much difficulty in finding a copy of this long for- 
 
 1 In a letter to Dana from Cummington, in September, 1873, 
 Bryant wrote : 
 
 " I thank you for telling 1 me so much about the last days of our 
 friend Phillips. He lived when a lad and a youth for some time 
 in a house which I see from my door here, on a somewhat distant 
 hillside, and while studying- for college came to this house to take 
 lessons from one of my father s medical pupils. The publication 
 of the poems which you mention, through his agency, was prop 
 erly my introduction to the literary world, and led to my coming- 
 out with a little volume which you and Channing- and he encour 
 aged me to publish, and which he so kindly reviewed in the 
 North American. To me he was particularly kind uncon 
 sciously so as it seemed ; it was apparently a kindness that he 
 could not help. I am glad to learn that his last years were so 
 tranquil and his death so easy, dropping like fruit, as Milton says, 
 into his mother s lap." 
 
46 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 gotten book, which in a letter to his father he de 
 scribed as " poor stuff," he made it the basis of an 
 essay on American poetry. It appeared in the 
 " North American Review " for July, 1818. In 
 it he passes in review all the writers of verse on 
 this side of the Atlantic who had yet ventured 
 into print, save some " whose passage to that obliv 
 ion, towards which, to the honor of our country 
 they were hastening," he did not wish to interrupt. 
 Those whose passage to oblivion he thought worthy 
 of being interrupted, though at this day it is not so 
 easy to see why, were the Rev. John Adams, whose 
 verses showed " the dawning of an ambition of 
 correctness and elegance ; " Joseph Green, whose 
 poetical writings " have been admired for their 
 humor and the playful ease of their composition ; " 
 Francis Hopkinson, " whose humorous ballad en 
 titled The Battle of the Kegs is in most of our 
 memories ; " Dr. Church, whose " keen and forcible 
 invectives are still recollected by his contempora 
 ries ; " Philip Freneau, " whose occasional produc 
 tions, distinguished by a coarse strength of sarcasm 
 and abounding with allusions to passing events, 
 which are perhaps their greatest merit ; " the 
 Connecticut poets, Trumbull, Dwight, Barlow, 
 Humphreys, and Hopkins, in all whose productions 
 " there is a pervading spirit of nationality and pa 
 triotism : a desire to reflect credit on the country 
 to which they belonged, which seems, as much 
 as individual ambition, to have prompted their 
 efforts, and which at times gives a certain glow 
 
THE BARRISTER. 47 
 
 and interest to their manner." Trumbull s Mc- 
 Fingal is " a tolerably successful imitation of the 
 great work of Butler," though the reviewer thinks 
 " The Progress of Dullness " the more pleasing 
 poem. He asks to be excused from feeling any high 
 admiration for the poetry of Dr. Dwight, which is 
 " modeled upon a manner altogether too artificial 
 and mechanical." " Barlow s Hasty Pudding is 
 a good specimen of mock heroic verse." "The plan 
 of 4 The Columbiad is utterly destitute of in 
 terest, and that which was at first sufficiently 
 wearisome has become doubly so by being drawn 
 out to its length." Humphreys s poems are in 
 better taste than those of Barlow and Dwiffht, but 
 
 O " 
 
 " most happy when he aims at nothing beyond 
 an elegant mediocrity." " Dr. Lemuel Hopkins s 
 smaller poems have been praised for their wit. 
 There is a coarseness, a want of polish in his style ; 
 and his imagination, daring and original but unre 
 strained by a correct judgment, often wanders into 
 absurdities and extravagances. Still if he had all 
 the madness, he must be allowed to have possessed 
 some of the inspiration of poetry." 
 
 There is none of our American poetry on which 
 the reviewer dwells with more pleasure than the 
 charming remains of William Clifton, who died at 
 the early age of twenty-seven. " His diction is re 
 fined to an unusual degree of purity, and through 
 this lucid medium the creations of his elegant fancy 
 appear with nothing to obscure their loveliness." 
 
48 WILLIAM CULL EX BRYANT. 
 
 The posthumous works of St. John Honeywood 
 " contain many polished and nervous lines." Rob- 
 ert Treat Paine " must be allowed to have possessed 
 an active and fertile fancy. Yet more instances 
 of the false sublime might, perhaps, be selected 
 from the writings of this poet than from those of 
 any other of equal talents who lived in the same 
 period. The brilliancy of Paine s poetry is like 
 the brilliancy of frostwork, cold and fantastic. 
 Who can point out the passage in his works in 
 which he speaks to the heart in its own language ? 
 He was a fine but misguided genius." 
 
 After this charitable not to say generous esti 
 mate of his brother bards in America, he proceeds 
 to denounce " the style of poetry then prevalent, 
 as in too many instances tinged with a sickly and 
 affected imitation of the peculiar manner of the 
 late popular poets of England," and the servile 
 habit of copying, which adopts the vocabulary 
 of some favorite author, and apes the fashion of 
 his sentences, and cramps and forces the ideas into 
 a shape which they could not naturally have taken, 
 and of which the only recommendation is not that 
 it is most elegant or most striking, but that it 
 bears some resemblance to the manner of him who 
 is proposed as a model. " This way of writing," 
 he continues, " has an air of poverty and meanness. 
 It seems to indicate a paucity of reading as well as 
 a perversion of taste, and it ever has been and 
 ever will be the resort of those who are sensible 
 
THE BARRISTER. 49 
 
 that their works need some factitious recommenda 
 tion to give them even a temporary popularity." 
 41 On the whole," he concludes, "there seems to be 
 more good taste among those who read than among 
 those who write poetry in our country." 
 
 I have dwelt upon this paper longer than the 
 present interest of the theme might seem to war 
 rant because it exhibits many of the moral and in 
 tellectual habits which made its author for more 
 than half a century the most conspicuous man of 
 letters in the country, among which were a mastery 
 of his subject, temperance in judgment, moderation 
 in statement, a patriotic interest in the adoption 
 of sound standards of poetical merit, and withal a 
 profound sense of responsibility for what he ven 
 tured to put in print. 
 
 It is not much to say that no one now questions 
 the substantial correctness of the opinions so mod 
 estly set forth in this paper. It is much, however, 
 to say that no one had ventured to make himself 
 responsible to the public for these opinions before. 
 The editors of the " Review " highly approved of 
 the tone of the article, and so encouraged him by 
 their epistolary commendations that he now allowed 
 himself to be relied upon as one of their favorite 
 contributors. 
 
 Nor does his professional character seem to 
 have suffered in the eyes of his fellow-citizens by 
 these infidelities, for only a few months after 
 " To a Waterfowl " and the paper on early Amer 
 ican poetry appeared in the "North American 
 
50 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 Review," he was chosen one of the tithing-men 
 of the town 1 and soon afterwards town clerk. 2 
 He held this office for five years, and until he left 
 Great Barrington. If his duties bore any propor 
 tion to his salary, they could not have been very 
 engrossing, for he discharged them all for the sum 
 of just five dollars per annum. 
 
 To these civic dignities the Governor of the 
 State also added that of Justice of the Peace. 
 
 Though few men who wrote so well have ever 
 written so much on the political problems of his 
 time as Mr. Bryant, or did more by his professional 
 and personal example to give dignity to political 
 strife, these were the only public offices he ever 
 filled. He had his eyes already fixed upon a 
 crown even then slowly settling upon his head, to 
 which official distinctions could add no lustre. 
 
 About this time Bryant was called upon to sub 
 mit to the greatest trial that had ever yet befallen 
 him, in the death of his father, 3 who had been to 
 him from his earliest youth, in the largest accepta- 
 
 1 March 9, 1819. 
 
 2 "One may still see his records at Great Barring-ton, where 
 they form an object of considerable curiosity to summer visitors. 
 Written in a neat flexible hand, it is remarked that almost the 
 only blot is where he registered his own marriage, and the only 
 interlineation, where in giving the birth of his first child he had 
 left out the name of the mother." Godwin s Life, i. 159. 
 
 3 Dr. Bryant died on the 20th of March, 1820, at the compara 
 tively early age of fifty-three. He inherited weak lungs, which 
 could not endure any longer the wear and tear of a country phy 
 sician s life in the bleak and hilly region where Providence had 
 fixed his home. 
 
THE BARRISTER. 51 
 
 tion of the words, his counselor and friend. For 
 this loss, however, Providence sent him what was 
 destined to constitute as far as possible a compen 
 sation. Soon after his settlement in Great Bar- 
 rington, he met a Miss Fairchild, who chanced to 
 be visiting in the neighborhood. She left upon 
 his heart at once an impression that proved to be 
 durable. Death had recently deprived her of both 
 her parents, and she was at this time the guest of 
 one of her married sisters. She proved during 
 the period of their courtship the inspiration of a 
 good many poems, of which " Oh ! fairest of the 
 rural maids " is the only one which for one reason 
 or another the author has cared to print. They 
 were married on the llth of June, 1821, at the 
 residence of Mrs. Henderson, the bride s sister. 
 In announcing this event to his mother, he wrote : 
 " I have not * played the fool and married the 
 Ethiop for the jewel in her ear. I looked only 
 for goodness of heart, an ingenuous and affec 
 tionate disposition, a good understanding, etc., and 
 the character of my wife is too frank and single- 
 hearted to suffer me to fear that I may be disap 
 pointed. I do myself wrong. I did not look for 
 these nor any other qualities, but they trapped me 
 before I was aware, and now I am married in spite 
 of myself." l 
 
 1 The following prayer, prepared for this occasion, was happily 
 found among Bryant s papers. Why their union was so remark 
 ably blessed finds in it at least a partial explanation : 
 
 "May Almighty God mercifully take care of our happiness 
 
52 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 In the following year, Bryant accepted an invi 
 tation to deliver the usual poetic address before 
 the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Harvard College. 
 It was for this occasion he wrote the poem of " The 
 Ages," which was not only a very remarkable 
 poem to be written by any young man of twenty- 
 eight years, but which was conceded by those who 
 heard it to be " the finest that had ever been spoken 
 before the Phi Beta Kappa Society." So highly 
 was it esteemed that nothing would do but he 
 must consent to its publication, with whatever else 
 he had done in a poetical way. The result was a 
 volumette of forty-four pages, containing " The 
 Ages," "To a Waterfowl," "Fragment from Si- 
 monides," " The Inscription for the Entrance to a 
 Wood," "The Yellow Violet," "The Song," "Green 
 River," and " Thanatopsis." These eight poems 
 
 here and hereafter. May we ever continue constant to each 
 other, mindful of our mutual promises of attachment and troth. 
 In due time, if it be the will of Providence, may we become more 
 nearly connected with each other, and together may we lead a 
 long 1 , happy, and innocent life, without any diminution of affection 
 till we die. May there never be any jealousy, distrust, coldness, 
 or dissatisfaction between us, nor occasion for any, nothing but 
 kindness, forbearance, mutual confidence, and attention to each 
 other s happiness. And that we may be less unworthy of so 
 great a blessing, may we be assisted to cultivate all the benign 
 and charitable affections and offices not only toward each other, 
 but toward our neighbors, the human race, and all the creatures 
 of God. And in all things wherein we have done ill, may we 
 properly repent our error, and may God forgive us and dispose us 
 to do better. When at last we are called to render back the life 
 we have received, may our deaths be peaceful, and may God take 
 us to his bosom. 
 
 " All which may He grant for the sake of the Messiah." 
 
THE BARRISTER. 53 
 
 furnished forth the first "collection" of Bryant s 
 poems, and though the volume was small and the 
 poems few in number, they were enough, had he 
 never written another line, to secure for him a 
 permanent place among the poets of America. 
 
 His visit to Boston and Cambridge did not 
 contribute much to make Bryant and his profes 
 sion more cordial friends. He had been suddenly 
 thrown into a society of the most distinguished 
 and cultivated people of the period, a society 
 which conceded to him a reputation which required 
 him to call none of them "master." Nor was 
 there any one at that already famous literary cen 
 tre so distinguished that he could afford to be in 
 different to the young poet s acquaintance. The 
 law had yielded him no such rewards. He was 
 doubtless right in thinking it had none such in 
 store for him. At all events, he acted upon that 
 conviction. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE ADVENTURER. 
 
 1823-1829. 
 
 SOON after his father s death, an appeal was 
 made to Bryant on behalf of the Unitarian So 
 ciety of Massachusetts through Miss Catherine M. 
 Sedgwick, of Stockbridge, to whom he was only 
 known by reputation, to contribute to a collection 
 of hymns that society had projected. Miss Sedg 
 wick, in giving an account of her mission to her 
 brother Robert in New York, said, " Pie has a 
 charming countenance, modest, but not bashful 
 manners. I made him promise to come and see 
 us shortly. He seemed gratified ; and if Mr. Sew- 
 all has reason to be obliged to me (which I cer 
 tainly think he has), I am doubly obliged by the 
 opportunity of securing the acquaintance of so in 
 teresting a man." 
 
 The acquaintance thus casually formed was des 
 tined to exercise a curious influence upon Bryant s 
 future career. At the time of his arrival in Great 
 Barrington, he tells us in his Memoirs, " I had 
 no acquaintance with the Sedgwick family. The 
 youngest of them, Charles Sedgwick, a man of 
 
THE ADVENTURER. 55 
 
 most genial and engaging manners and agreeable 
 conversation as well as of great benevolence and 
 worth, was a member of the Berkshire bar, and 
 by him, a year or two afterwards, I was introduced 
 to the others, who, from the first, seemed to take 
 pleasure in being kind to me." 
 
 At the instance of this amiable and accomplished 
 family, Bryant was led seriously to consider the 
 expediency of directing his steps toward New 
 York rather than Boston, as his Land of Promise. 
 Mr. Henry Sedgwick, Miss Sedgwick s elder 
 brother, and one of the more prominent members 
 of the New York bar, had been so impressed by 
 what he had seen of Bryant s writings that he did 
 not hesitate to recommend him to try his fortune 
 as a man of letters in our commercial capital. 
 " The time," he wrote, " is peculiarly propitious ; 
 tfee Athenaeum, just instituted, is exciting a sort of 
 literary rage, and it is proposed to set up a journal 
 in connection with it. Besides, The Atlantic 
 Magazine, which has pined till recently, is begin 
 ning to revive in the hands of Henry J. Anderson, 
 who has a taste or whim for editorship, and he un 
 questionably needs assistance. Bliss & White, his 
 publishers, are liberal gentlemen ; they pay him 
 five hundred dollars a year, and authorize an ex 
 penditure of five hundred dollars more." " Any 
 deficiencies of salary, moreover," Mr. Sedgwick 
 adds, " may be eked out by teaching foreigners, of 
 whom there are many in New York, eager to learn 
 our language and literature. In short, it would 
 
56 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 be strange if you could not succeed where every 
 body and everything succeeds." 
 
 This would scarcely seem a very tempting pro 
 posal to a young man nowadays to quit the pro 
 fession to which he had been trained and the seat 
 of whatever family and personal influence he pos 
 sessed ; but Bryant s aversion to the law had in 
 creased as his literary talents were more widely 
 recognized, and he readily persuaded himself to 
 make a prospecting tour to New York in the spring 
 of 1824. His reception was seductive. He notes 
 in his letters to his wife that he " dined at Robert 
 Sedgwick s in company with Cooper, the novelist, 
 Halleck, the author of 4 Fanny, Sands, author of 
 4 Yamoyden, Johnson, the reporter of the Court of 
 Appeals, and some other literary gentlemen ; " that 
 one Sunday he heard " two sermons from Parson 
 Ware, and very good ones, too," and on Tuesday 
 had Sparks, who had succeeded to the editorship of 
 the " North American Review," to dine with him. 
 The Sedgwicks did all they could, and that meant 
 a great deal, to make New York inviting to him. 
 The result of his visit is easy to anticipate. Though 
 upon his return he did not at once abandon his 
 profession, his mind had evidently received during 
 his absence such impressions as were sure to put 
 an end to a prolonged residence at Great Bar- 
 rington. This was apparent in the earnestness 
 with which he now devoted himself to literary 
 work. " The United States Literary Gazette " 
 had been then recently established in Boston under 
 
THE ADVENTURER. 57 
 
 the editorial management of Theophilus Parsons, 
 a young lawyer of promise, afterward eminent as 
 a writer and as a jurist. He solicited Bryant s 
 aid. The application came at a propitious moment ; 
 and during the first three years of the " Gazette s " 
 existence, Bryant contributed to its pages from 
 twenty to thirty poems, several of which rank 
 among his best. 1 Of these pieces there was one 
 which Mr. Godwin tells us had a deep and tender 
 
 personal meaning. It is the " Sonnet to ," 
 
 his sister, the beloved companion of his earlier 
 years, but then in the last stages of the disease of 
 which their father had died a few years before. 
 She is remembered as a person of rare endow- 
 ments and of the loveliest disposition. It was but 
 natural he wrote that 
 
 "death should come 
 Gently to one of gentle mould like thee, 
 As light winds wandering through groves of hloom 
 Detach the delicate blossoms from the tree." 
 
 She died in the twenty-second year of her age, 
 and thereafter the old familiar places wore a gloom 
 for him which, perhaps, inclined him more will 
 ingly to the change of residence to which influ- 
 
 1 These were "The Massacre of Scio," "Rizpah," "The Rivu 
 let," "March," "The Old Man s Funeral," "Sonnet to ," 
 
 "An Indian Story," " Summer Wind," " An Indian at the Bur 
 ial Place of his Fathers," the song called " The Lovers Les 
 sons," * Monument Mountain," the "Hymn of the Waldenses," 
 "After a Tempest," "Autumn Woods," " Mutation," " Novem 
 ber," "Song of the Greek Amazon," " To a Cloud," " The Mur 
 dered Traveler," " Hymn to the North Star," " The Lapse of 
 Time," "The Song of the Stars," and the "Forest Hymn." 
 
58 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 ences from every quarter seemed to be entreating 
 him. To this cherished companion of his child 
 hood he erected one of the noblest monuments with 
 which the memory of any American has yet been 
 honored, in his lines on " The Death of the Flow 
 ers." No one is to be envied who can read the 
 closing stanzas to-day without emotion. 
 
 " The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, 
 
 Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. 
 Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead ; 
 They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit s tread. 
 The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay ; 
 And from the wood-tops calls the crow through all the gloomy 
 day. 
 
 " Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang 
 
 and stood, 
 
 In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood ? 
 Alas ! they all are in their graves ; the gentle race of flowers 
 Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours. 
 The rain is falling where they lie ; but the cold November rain 
 Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again. 
 
 " The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago; 
 
 And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow ; 
 But on the hills the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, 
 And the yellow sun-flower by the brook in autumn beauty stood, 
 Till fell the frost from the clear, cold heaven, as falls the plague 
 
 on men, 
 And the brightness of their smile was gone from upland, glade, 
 
 and glen. 
 
 " And now, when comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will 
 come, 
 
 To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home ; 
 
 When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees 
 are still, 
 
 And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, 
 
THE ADVENTURER. 59 
 
 The south-wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he 
 
 bore, 
 And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more. 
 
 " And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died, 
 The fair, meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side : 
 In the cold, moist earth we laid her when the forests cast the 
 
 leaf, 
 
 And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief ; 
 Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of ours, 
 So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers." 
 
 In " The Past," which at the time it was written 
 he was inclined to think the best poem he had 
 written, there occurs also a touching allusion to 
 both his then recent bereavements. 
 
 " All that of good and fair 
 Has gone into thy womb from earliest time 
 
 Shall then come forth to wear 
 The glory and the beauty of its prime. 
 
 " They have not perished, no ! 
 Kind words, remembered voices once so sweet, 
 
 Smiles, radiant long ago, 
 And features, the great soul s apparent seat. 
 
 All shall come back ; each tie 
 Of pure affection shall be knit again ; 
 
 Alone shall Evil die, 
 And Sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign. 
 
 "And then shall I behold 
 Him by whose kind paternal side I sprang, 
 
 And her who, still and cold, 
 Fills the next grave, the beautiful, the young." 
 
 When asked what compensation he expected for 
 these poems, Bryant named two dollars for each, 
 with which remuneration he was " abundantly sat- 
 
b O WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 isfied." Fifty years later, any publisher in the 
 land would gladly have paid him a hundred times 
 that sum for them, a pleasing evidence of the 
 rapid growth both of the literary taste and wealth 
 of the country. His publishers, with a juster 
 sense of the value of his contributions than his 
 modesty permitted him to entertain, had the grace 
 to offer him two hundred dollars a year for an 
 average of one hundred lines a month, with an ex 
 pression of their " profound regret that they were 
 unable to offer a compensation more adequate." 
 Small as this compensation seems to us, it had its 
 influence in determining him to take all the risks 
 and to trust to his pen for a livelihood. Accord 
 ingly in January of the year 1825, he revisited 
 New York, where, in the course of the ensuing 
 month, he undertook in connection with Henry J. 
 Anderson the editorship of a monthly periodical, 
 entitled the " New York Review and Athenaeum 
 Magazine," the first number of which was an 
 nounced to appear in June. 
 
 Mr. Bryant did not abandon his profession 
 if the law can fairly be said to have ever been his 
 profession hastily or inconsiderately ; nor did 
 he trust himself to the precarious resources of his 
 pen with any chimerical expectations. No one 
 knew better than he how limited was the market 
 at that time for such literary work as he was will 
 ing and able to execute. He was animated solely 
 by a desire to exchange an uncongenial employ 
 ment for a congenial one. The meanest liveli- 
 
THE ADVENTURER. 61 
 
 hood achieved by his pen in the metropolis was 
 more agreeable to him than affluence as a village 
 attorney. 
 
 " I have given up my profession, which was a 
 shabby one," he wrote about this time to his life 
 long friend Dana, " and I am not altogether cer 
 tain that I have got into a better. Bliss & White, 
 however, the publishers of the New York Re 
 view, employ me, which at present will be a liveli 
 hood, and a livelihood is all I got from the law." 
 In another letter to Dana, written a few weeks 
 later, he adds, " I do not know how long my con 
 nection with this work will continue. My salary 
 is one thousand dollars ; 110 great sum, to be sure, 
 but it is twice what I got by my practice in the 
 country. Besides, my dislike for my profession 
 was augmenting daily, and my residence in Great 
 Barrington, in consequence of innumerable quar 
 rels and factions which were springing up every 
 day among an extremely excitable and not very 
 enlightened population, had become quite dis 
 agreeable to me. It cost me more pain and per 
 plexity than it was worth to live on friendly terms 
 with my neighbors ; and, not having, as I flatter 
 myself, any great taste for contention, I made up 
 my mind to get out of it as soon as I could and 
 come to this great city, where, if it was my lot to 
 starve, I might starve peaceably and quietly. The 
 business of sitting in judgment on books as they 
 come out is not the literary employment most to 
 my taste, nor that for which I am best fitted, but 
 
62 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 it affords me, for the present, a certain compensa 
 tion." 
 
 In the latter part of June, he gives a yet more 
 emphatic expression to his feelings in a letter to 
 Mrs. Bryant, whom, in this experimental stage of 
 his career, he had not ventured to expose to the 
 heats of summer in New York : " Notwithstand 
 ing the heat, the noise, and the unpleasant odors of 
 the city, I think that if you and Frances were with 
 me I should pass my time here much more pleas 
 antly than at Great Barrington. I am obliged to 
 be pretty industrious, it is true, but that is well 
 enough. In the mean time I am not plagued with 
 the disagreeable, disgusting drudgery of the law ; 
 and, what is still better, am aloof from those mis 
 erable feuds and wranglings that make Great Bar 
 rington an unpleasant residence, even to him who 
 tries every method in his power to avoid them." 
 
 It is apparent from these letters that Bryant s 
 quarrel was not so much with the profession of the 
 law as with the conditions under which he had been 
 required to pursue it. Had not Providence given 
 him wings with which to fly to more congenial 
 spheres of activity, there is no reason to doubt that 
 he would have risen to eminence in some depart 
 ment of that profession. He had every faculty, 
 both moral and intellectual, for acquiring and de 
 serving the confidence of clients. Like the poet 
 Cowper, with whom he had more points of resem 
 blance than with any other English poet, the shy 
 ness and delicacy of his nature disinclined him to 
 
THE ADVENTURER. 63 
 
 the duties of a barrister ; but, unlike Cowper, his 
 shyness was not so morbid, while his courage and 
 conscientiousness would have sustained him in the 
 discharge of any duty which his profession might 
 impose. Then there are departments of the profes 
 sion in which his great talents and virtues would 
 have proved most effective without doing any vio 
 lence to his singularly acute and refined sensibili 
 ties ; not perhaps in Great Barrington, nor indeed 
 in any other country village, for no country vil 
 lage could have long detained such a lawyer as 
 Bryant would have made. Had his father s 
 means permitted him to study and practice his 
 profession in Boston, he probably would have ad 
 hered to it for life, and now be known, and only 
 known, to us as having once been a leading mem 
 ber of the Massachusetts bar. Here again the 
 audax paupzrtas providentially intervened and 
 said, " No, not a lawyer. There are a plenty of 
 men who can become leading members of the 
 Massachusetts bar, but I have work for you in 
 another sphere for which there is no one else afc 
 present equally fitted." 
 
 As Bryant had staked everything upon his New 
 York venture, he led an anxious as well as labori 
 ous life for the next few years. But he had youth 
 and its inexhaustible faith to sustain him ; he had 
 congenial if not very remunerative employment ; 
 and in Cooper and Verplanck and Anderson and 
 Sands and William Ware he had the society of 
 friends, whose devotion to him only terminated 
 
64 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 with their lives. Though his share of work on the 
 " Review " was quite enough for him, it did not 
 prevent his availing himself of every opportunity 
 of putting down new roots in the community to 
 which he had been transferred. In the autumn of 
 1825 he accepted an invitation from the Athenaeum 
 Society to deliver some lectures on English poetry. 
 Though elementary in their scope and prepared 
 for a temporary forum, these lectures, four in 
 number, are still worth reading. While deliver 
 ing these discourses, Bryant was appointed a pro 
 fessor in one of the schools organized under the 
 auspices of the National Academy of the Arts of 
 Design, then recently established. He read to his 
 classes five lectures on the subject of Mythology, 
 in December, 1827, which proved so acceptable 
 that he was called upon to repeat them in each of 
 the three or four succeeding years. To the " Re 
 view " he was also the principal contributor both 
 in prose and verse, and among his poetical contri 
 butions, "The Song of Pitcairn s Island," "Lines 
 on Revisiting the Country," " I cannot forget," 
 "The Death of the Flowers," and "Hymns to 
 Death," are now as much read, perhaps, as any 
 verses he ever wrote. Halleck s " Marco Bozzaris," 
 " Burns," " Wyoming," and " Connecticut," the 
 poems to which he owed his fame, also first ap 
 peared in the " Review." But in spite of these 
 and all its other attractions it did not thrive, and 
 Bryant s prospects at the close of his first year s 
 experience as "a literary adventurer," as he 
 
THE ADVENTURER. G5 
 
 styled himself, were anything but encouraging. 
 Various expedients were resorted to, but in vain, 
 to revive the drooping fortunes of the " Review." 
 In March, 1826, it and " The New York Literary 
 Gazette " were united under the name of " The 
 New York Literary Gazette or American Athe 
 naeum." In July following this conglomerate was 
 united with the " United States Gazette " of Bos 
 ton, taking the title of the " United States Review 
 and Literary Gazette," under the joint editorship 
 of James G. Carter in Boston and Bryant in New 
 York. Bryant was allowed a quarter ownership, 
 five hundred dollars a year salary, and a prospec 
 tive increase contingent upon the increase of sub 
 scribers. But these changes were only changes in 
 name ; the subscribers did not increase, and the 
 divided editorial control proved anything but an 
 advantage. The horizon seemed to be shutting in 
 with darkness all around him. He was a young 
 man ; he had a wife and child dependent upon him ; 
 he had embarked in a new profession among 
 strangers in a strange city. Like a castaway in 
 the wide ocean, the more he exerted himself the 
 more rapidly he exhausted his strength, with no 
 evidence apparent that his prospects of succor were 
 improving. His confidence in the sustaining power 
 of his pen was so shaken that he applied for and 
 obtained a license to practice law in the courts of 
 New York, in anticipation of being again obliged 
 
 "to drudge for the dregs of men, 
 And scrawl strange words with the barbarous pen, 
 
66 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 And mingle among the jostling- crowd 
 Where the sons of strife are subtle and loud." 
 
 Whatever Bryant strongly felt was pretty sure, 
 sooner or later, to find expression in verse, and it 
 was under the depressing influences about him that 
 he wrote the following lines, which he entitled 
 " The Journey of Life." 
 
 " Beneath the waning moon I walk at night, 
 
 And muse on human life for all around 
 Are dim uncertain shapes that cheat the sight, 
 
 And pitfalls lurk in shade along the ground, 
 And broken gleams of brightness here and there 
 Glance through, and leave unwarmed, the death like air. 
 
 " The trampled earth returns a sound of fear 
 
 A hollow sound, as if I walked on tombs ; 
 And lights, that tell of cheerful homes, appear 
 
 Far off, and die like hope amid the glooms. 
 A mournful wind across the landscape flies, 
 And the white atmosphere is full of sighs. 
 
 " And I, with faltering footsteps, journey on, 
 
 Watching the stars that roll the hours away, 
 Till the faint light that guides me now is gone, 
 
 And, like another life, the glorious day 
 Shall open o er me from the empyreal height, 
 With warmth and certainty and boundless light" 
 
 When read by the light of the circumstances in 
 which ^they were written, these lines are very af 
 fecting, and yet more than with their pathos one 
 is impressed with the unfaltering faith with which 
 they are eloquent. There is no repining, no at 
 tempt to shield his self-love by holdingTrovrdence 
 responsible for his hardships ; still less do we find 
 there any sign of surrender or of despair, but the 
 
THE ADVENTURER. 67 
 
 same pious trust in the Divine guidance which a 
 dozen years before had sustained him at another 
 crisis in his career, and which found such lofty 
 expression in the lines u To a Waterfowl." In 
 perusing these verses, the classical student can 
 hardly fail to be reminded of the Gentile but not 
 unchristian faith revealed in the following lines of 
 the great lyric poet of pagan Rome : 
 
 Ut tuto ab atris corpore viperis 
 Dormirem et ursis ; ut premerer sacra 
 Jjauroque collataque myrto, 
 Non sine Dis animosus infans." 1 
 
 Bryant s trust in Providence was happily justi 
 fied, as it always is to those who " hold out to the 
 end." When his situation seemed most desperate, 
 he was invited to assist in the editorship of the 
 " New York Evening Post." This paper, then 
 owned by William Coleman and Michael Burnham, 
 had already acquired the commanding position in 
 the country which it still maintains, and was a val 
 uable property. Bryant s engagement at first was 
 temporary. The place had been offered to his 
 friend Dana, from whom, however, no answer had 
 been received. Dana ultimately declined. This 
 gave Bryant for the first time in his life a toler 
 ably firm footing in an employment infinitely more 
 
 1 Horace, Lib. III. Carmen IV. Thus rendered by Dean 
 Milman : 
 
 " From the black viper safe and prowling bear, 
 Sweet slept I, strewn with sacred leaves 
 And myrtle twigs bold child 
 
 Not of the Gods uuwatched." 
 
68 W ILL I AM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 congenial than that which he had abandoned, and 
 fairly remunerative. 
 
 While serving what may be termed his appren 
 ticeship as a journalist, Bryant continued his labors 
 on the " Review " until it paid the debt of nature, 
 if no other. 1 He then joined his friends Verplanck 
 and Sands in editing an annual called the " Talis 
 man." The first one appeared in 1828. It was 
 succeeded by another in 1829, and a third in 1830, 
 when it was abandoned by its editors for more en 
 grossing and profitable employment. 2 
 
 With permanence of position Bryant was also 
 wise and fortunate enough to acquire an interest 
 in the property of the u Evening Post." 
 
 1 Bryant s poetical contributions to the Eeview were, " October," 
 "The Damsel of Pern," "The African Chief," "Spring in 
 Town," "The Gladness of Nature," "The Greek Partisan," 
 "The Two Graves," and "The Conjunction of Jupiter and 
 Venus." 
 
 2 Bryant s poetical contributions to the Talisman were, "A 
 Scene on the Banks of the Hudson," "The Hurricane," "Wil 
 liam Tell," "Innocent Child and Snow-white Flower," "The 
 Close of Autumn," "To the Past," "The Hunter s Serenade," 
 " The Greek Boy," " To the Evening Wind," " Love and Folly," 
 " The Siesta," "Romero," " To the River Arve," To the Painter 
 Cole," and "Eva," including "The Alcayde of Molina," and 
 The Death of Aliatar. " It is a proof how little the Review 
 had been known that two or three of these were republished from 
 it without detection. His prose pieces were, An Adventure in 
 the East Indies," "The Cascade of Melsingah," "Recollections 
 of the South of Spain," " Moriscan Romances," "Story of the 
 Island of Cuba," "The Indian Spring," "The Whirlwind," 
 "Early Spanish Poetry," " Phanette des Gautelmes," "The 
 Marriage Blunder," and parts of the "Devil s Pulpit" and 
 "Reminiscences of New York." 
 
THE ADVENTURER. 69 
 
 Writing to Dana in February, 1829, he said, " I 
 am a small proprietor in the establishment, and am 
 a gainer by the arrangement. It will afford me a 
 comfortable livelihood after I have paid for the 
 eighth part, which is the amount of my share. I 
 do not like politics any better than you do ; but 
 they get only my mornings, and you know politics 
 and a bellyful are better than poetry and starva 
 tion." 
 
 Only five months after this letter was written 
 Mr. Coleman, the editor-in-chief and proprietor, 
 died, and Bryant was immediately promoted to his 
 seat. With this promotion, also, he acquired an 
 additional interest in the property, 1 of which he 
 continued the proprietor during the remainder of 
 his life, about half a century. 
 
 1 For this purpose I am told that Henry Sedgwick lent him 
 two thousand dollars. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE JOURNALIST. 
 
 WHEN Bryant entered the office of the " Even 
 ing Post," he embarked in a profession which was 
 destined to absorb his best energies for the remain 
 ing years of a long life. For more than half of 
 our national existence he was the directing mind 
 of that journal. During all this long period he 
 contracted no other business engagements, he was 
 never officially engaged in the administration of 
 any other financial or industrial enterprise, nor 
 did he ever accept any political office. And yet I 
 do not recall the name of any other American, save 
 Dr. Franklin, who for as loftg a period was so 
 unremittingly and effectively occupied in shaping 
 public opinion, nor one who ever gave so many 
 hours of conscientious thought to questions involv 
 ing so exclusively the interests and welfare of man 
 kind. Nowhere else in our literature, I believe, 
 can be found such a continuous, complete, and sat 
 isfactory record of the growth and expansion of 
 political thought in the United States as in the 
 columns of the " Evening Post " during the first 
 fifty years of Bryant s connection with it. It would 
 be difficult to name any subject of general concern 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 71 
 
 that fell properly within the domain of secular 
 journalism during that period that he did not deal 
 with, and in a way to deserve, and usually to com 
 mand, the respectful attention even of those who 
 were not prepared to accept all his conclusions. 
 
 Journalism when Bryant entered the profes 
 sion was as little like the journalism of 1889 as 
 Jason s fifty-oared craft " Argo" was like a mod 
 ern steam packet. The commercial value of news 
 merely as news to the daily press was as much 
 undervalued as anthracite coal for fuel, or elec 
 tricity for light. The newspaper was usually estab 
 lished in the interest of some prominent party 
 leader, who fought his battles in its columns. The 
 editor was more or less his party s mouthpiece, 
 and the readers consulted its columns mainly for 
 its political indications. The modern reporter was 
 yet in the chrysalis stage of existence, while the 
 "interviewer" was as one of those remote stars, 
 the light of which had not yet reached our planet. 
 A w r eekly packet with the news in a file of London 
 papers, condensed into a few paragraphs, supplied 
 all the information from the outside world for 
 which there seemed to be any demand, while local 
 news was limited pretty much to such items as 
 friends of the editor or interested parties might 
 take the trouble to communicate. The evolution 
 or transformation of our journalism from its stage 
 of organism to the newspaper proper was of a later 
 date, and was due to the absence rather than to the 
 presence of qualities from which success could then 
 
72 WILLIAM CL LLEN BRYANT. 
 
 have been predicated. Lacking the literary train 
 ing and accomplishment of an effective writer, the 
 late James Gordon Bennett had the sagacity to find 
 in news and gossip a cheap substitute for brilliant 
 leaders. These features of the "Herald" news 
 paper, which he founded, attracted readers from the 
 larger class who had only a secondary interest in 
 politics, and placed his journal upon an independ 
 ent financial footing which delivered it from the 
 thrall of scheming politicians. It was, I believe, 
 the first politically independent secular journal 
 published in the United States. In proportion as 
 the daily prints, following the example of the 
 "Herald," have become in fact as well as in name 
 newspapers, have they become representatives of 
 the whole people, instead of being merely the rep 
 resentatives of political parties and factions. 
 
 For the first twenty years of his connection with 
 the " Evening Post," Bryant had but one perma 
 nent assistant in his office, a scanty report of the 
 shipping and financial intelligence being supplied 
 to the " Evening Post " in common with some 
 other papers, each bearing its proportion of the 
 expense. The attraction and influence of the pa 
 per depended mainly upon its editorials, which 
 rarely occupied more than a column. 
 
 As the " Evening Post " was published in the 
 afternoon, the work on it had to begin at an early 
 hour of the morning. During the first forty years 
 of his editorial life, it was a rare thing for Mr. 
 Bryant, if in town, not to be found at his desk 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 73 
 
 before eight o clock in the morning. He was not 
 a fluent nor a very prolific writer. Beside his 
 natural fastidiousness, he had a literary reputation 
 to sustain, with which he never allowed himself to 
 trifle. His manuscripts, as well as his proofs, were 
 commonly so disfigured by corrections as to be 
 read with difficulty even by those familiar with his 
 script. 
 
 Good poets have usually been masters of a supe 
 rior prose style. Bryant was no exception. Though 
 he neither sought nor expected fame from his 
 prose, he was careful to print nothing that could 
 in any way compromise his reputation as a poet. 
 As a consequence, in all his contributions to his 
 paper, I doubt if as many erroneous or defective 
 forms of expression can be found as in the first ten 
 numbers of the " Spectator." He never allowed 
 slang or affectations of expression of any kind a 
 place in its columns, nor would he allow the clients 
 of the "Evening Post" ever to be described or 
 recognized as "patrons." In a letter to a young 
 man who had asked his opinion of an article he 
 had written, he has given the following brief 
 exposition of what he regarded as the rudimen 
 tary principles of good writing for the periodical 
 press : 
 
 "I observe that you have used several French 
 expressions in your letter. I think if you will 
 study the English language, that you will find it 
 capable of expressing all the ideas you may have. 
 I have always found it so, and in all that I have 
 
74 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 written I do not recall an instance where I was 
 tempted to use a foreign word but that, on search 
 ing, I have found a better one in my own language. 
 
 " Be simple, unaffected ; be honest in your 
 speaking and writing. Never use a long word 
 where a short one will do as well. 
 
 " Call a spade by its name, not a well-known ob 
 long instrument of manual labor ; let a home be a 
 home, and not a residence ; a place, not a locality, 
 and so on of the rest. When a short word will 
 do, you will always lose by a long one ; you lose in 
 clearness, you lose in honest expression of mean 
 ing, and, in the estimation of all men who are ca 
 pable of judging, you lose in reputation for ability. 
 " The only true way to shine, even in this false 
 world, is to be modest and unassuming. False 
 hood may be a thick crust, but in the course of 
 time Truth will find a place to break through. 
 Elegance of language may not be in the power of 
 us all, but simplicity and straightforwardness are." 
 
 He rarely quoted, in support of his own opin 
 ions, or for a more effective statement of them ; 
 and, as a rule, he never quoted in a foreign tongue. 
 If he did by chance, it was apt to be with an 
 apology. 
 
 Bryant s prose, like his poetry, was always clear. 
 No one could mistake his meaning, nor have the 
 least difficulty in gathering it from his language. 
 Nor did he ever try to leave a different impres 
 sion from that which his words strictly imported. 
 Though master of a genial humor as well as of a 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 75 
 
 refined irony, he never trifled with serious matters, 
 nor with his readers. He never made sport of the 
 calamities or afflictions even of the most depraved, 
 taught both by what nature discloses and by what 
 she conceals, 
 
 Never to blend our pleasure or our pride 
 
 With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels." 
 
 He rigorously eschewed the discussion of religious 
 topics, especially those of a controverted character. 
 He never could be beguiled into personal contro 
 versy, insisting that every line of a newspaper be 
 longed to the public that paid for it, and could not 
 honestly be perverted to the gratification of the 
 vanity or spite or self-sufficiency of its editors. 
 How much Bryant s example has had to do with 
 the marvelous improvements in the literary quality 
 and moral tone which distinguishes the journalism 
 of to-day from that which prevailed during the 
 first quarter of the century is only known to those 
 who have been witnesses of the change, and they 
 will soon have all passed away. The number of 
 such as are disposed to disinter the genius and 
 professional virtues which are sepulchred in the 
 files of an old newspaper is very limited. Nor 
 would Bryant have had it otherwise, for he had no 
 desire to be remembered as a "journalist," pro 
 foundly as he was interested in all he sought to 
 accomplish as such for human society. 
 
 Bryant had one peculiarity which would hardly 
 have been so conspicuous in any other profession. 
 He rarely if ever gave advice, and, unless in his 
 
76 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 domestic circle, of which I cannot speak, never un 
 asked. Even the juniors in his office, the u pren 
 tice hands " of his staff, had to study their profes 
 sion from his example, not from his precepts. His 
 reasons for this can only be conjectured. He may 
 have felt with Shaftesbury that " that which we 
 call giving advice was properly taking an occa 
 sion to show our wisdom at another s expense." A 
 gentleman who was associated with him many years 
 in the management of the " Evening Post," com 
 menting upon this peculiarity, remarked : 
 
 " When T entered the office I had had some little prac 
 tice as a writer for magazines, such as is common to most 
 young men of strong literary tastes, but I had had no ex 
 perience in journalism proper. As a matter of course I 
 was continually doing things I ought not to have done, 
 and leaving undone things I ought to have done. Bryant 
 never rebuked me ; he never criticised me. In looking 
 over my proofs he would occasionally say, Had not this 
 word better be changed for that or the other ? Does that 
 phrase express all or more than you mean, or as clearly 
 as you wish it to ? Even this mode of correction was 
 very rare. As I became more familiar with my duties, 
 and compared my own work with his, I realized how often 
 I must have offended ; how much I must have written that 
 he would not have written ; how many canons of the 
 master I must have violated, and in my hours of soli 
 tary meditation often wondered what could be the secret 
 of his silence and forbearance. My heart once almost 
 ceased to beat when the suspicion crossed my mind that 
 he thought criticism and instruction would be wasted 
 upon me. But just in proportion to his tolerance was my 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 77 
 
 vigilance in searching for the difference between his work 
 and mine, and as far and as fast as possible were my 
 efforts to diminish their number. Before long I became 
 sensible that he had pursued the wiser course, and that I 
 improved much faster by being driven for guidance to his 
 example, which, like the shadow of St. Peter, exerted a 
 healing influence upon whomsoever it fell, than if he had 
 begun with me by pointing out my errors and deficiencies, 
 which would probably have had the effect either of mak 
 ing me timid and of discouraging me, or of leaving me to 
 suppose that all he did not censure was satisfactory. Of 
 course all his literary standards were at least as much 
 higher than mine as he was my senior. He knew, there 
 fore, that he could not impose them successfully upon 
 me then, but that I must, as far as in me lay, grow to 
 them, as the acorn grows to be an oak, and that the at 
 tempt would only result either in rebellion or in convert 
 ing me into a machine. The respect I thus acquired for 
 his example, not only as a journalist, but for his standards 
 in every relation in life, grew upon me steadily while 
 our professional association lasted, so that, for years after 
 it ceased, when in perplexing situations and in doubt 
 about what it was becoming and proper for me to do or 
 to leave undone, I found myself instinctively and habit 
 ually asking myself, What would Bryant do in my sit 
 uation ? And it almost invariably happened that when 
 subjected to this test all my doubts promptly vanished. 
 I had no hesitation in doing what I should not have 
 been surprised to see him do, while I shrank from any 
 thing which would have surprised me if done by him. I 
 have known many wise and excellent men in my life, 
 but no one whose example pursued me so faithfully or 
 with any such results. And I trust I have learned from 
 
78 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 him to have a more just appreciation of the relative 
 importance of example and advice." 
 
 Though he had been trained in the strictest prin 
 ciples of New England Federalism, Bryant found, 
 when he came to be clothed with the responsibilities 
 of a leader and guide, that his controlling sympa 
 thies and instincts were with the Democratic party. 
 Jackson w r as President. Plis battle with nullifica 
 tion in the South, and with the Bank of the United 
 States, and his vetoes of road, river, and harbor 
 bills, as being special or local instead of national 
 in their bearing, commanded his cordial approval. 
 He early embraced the conviction which lies at the 
 foundation of the Democratic polity, not that that 
 government is best that governs least, but that that 
 government is best which shall limit its functions 
 most completely to those of an effective police in 
 keeping every man s hand off of every other man, 
 and off of his property. Whenever government 
 transcended these functions, he thought it required 
 close watching, with all the presumptions against 
 it. This conviction led him early to question the 
 wisdom of granting special charters to banks ; to 
 denounce the inspection, conspiracy, and usury 
 laws ; to favor the removal of all legislative re 
 strictions upon commerce, and to provide for the 
 expenses of government by a strictly revenue 
 tariff. He assented to and effectively supported 
 the tariff of 1846, framed upon the principle enun 
 ciated by Governor Silas Wright, a tariff for 
 revenue, with incidental protection. The formula 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 79 
 
 would have pleased him better with the " incidental 
 protection " left out. 
 
 Whenever he had occasion to speak of slavery, he 
 never was its apologist, nor did he ever neglect an 
 opportunity of rendering any practical assistance 
 to the cause of emancipation ; and when the ques 
 tion of extending the territory afflicted with slav 
 ery arose, no journal in the country labored more 
 or suffered more in resisting such extension. He 
 never advocated the abolition of slavery by the 
 federal government until it became justifiable 
 and expedient as a war measure. The courts and 
 the laws, if not the Constitution, had placed slavery 
 within the States under the protection of the Con 
 stitution in the judgment of the leading states 
 men of all parties. Mr. Bryant acquiesced in this 
 judgment as he acquiesced in many other national 
 abuses which he saw no means of remedying. But 
 when the census of 1860 revealed to the country 
 the fact that the political ascendency of the slave- 
 holding States had departed, and that the non- 
 slaveholding States had a majority in both houses 
 of Congress ; and when, for the purpose of restor 
 ing such ascendency, they endeavored to carry slav 
 ery into all the vast unsettled territories of the 
 Northwest, the " Evening Post " did not hesitate 
 to take the attitude of unhesitating and uncom 
 promising opposition, preferring that the question 
 should be settled by the dread arbitrament of war 
 to any responsibility for the surrender of one more 
 inch of American soil to be tilled by the hands of 
 
80 WILLIAM CULLKN BRYANT. 
 
 bondmen. War ensued, and while supporting the 
 government in its prosecution with all the vigor of 
 his pen and the weight of his character, true to 
 his Democratic instincts, he denounced the financial 
 policy of the government by which its paper prom 
 ises were made a lawful tender in discharge of its 
 pecuniary obligations. 
 
 When Mr. Lincoln, in January, 18G3, issued his 
 proclamation of freedom to the slaves in certain 
 States which persisted in their insurrection against 
 the government, Bryant, while disposed to accept 
 it with gratitude as a step in the right direction, 
 found it less comprehensive and definite in its 
 terms than he thought the occasion called for. He 
 did not believe in gradual emancipation as a meas 
 ure suited to the emergencies of flagrant war. In 
 a speech which he made at a meeting held in behalf 
 of the loyalists of Missouri who were calling upon 
 the nation to protect them, he portrayed the follies 
 of gradual emancipation in terms as nearly ap 
 proaching to genuine eloquence, probably, as he 
 ever reached. 
 
 " Gradual emancipation ! " he exclaimed. " Have 
 we not suffered enough from slavery without keep 
 ing it any longer ? Has not blood enough been 
 shed? My friends, if a child of yours were to 
 fall into the fire, would you pull him out gradu 
 ally ? If he were to swallow a dose of laudanum 
 sufficient to cause speedy death, and a stomach 
 pump was at hand, would you draw the poison 
 out by degrees ? If your house were on fire, would 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 81 
 
 you put it out piecemeal? And yet there are 
 men who talk of gradual emancipation by force of 
 ancient habit, and there are men in the Slave 
 States who make of slavery a sort of idol which 
 they are unwilling to part with ; which, if it must 
 be removed, they would prefer to see removed after 
 a lapse of time and tender leave-takings. 
 
 " Slavery is a foul and monstrous idol, a Jugger 
 naut under which thousands are crushed to death ; 
 it is a Moloch for whom the children of the land 
 pass through fire. Must we consent that the num 
 ber of the victims shall be diminished gradually ? 
 If there are a thousand victims this year, are you 
 willing that nine hundred shall be sacrificed next 
 
 O 
 
 year, and eight hundred the next, and so on until 
 after the lapse of ten years it shall cease ? No, 
 my friends, let us hurl the grim image from its 
 pedestal. Down with it to the ground. Dash it 
 to fragments ; trample it in the dust. Grind it to 
 powder as the prophets of old commanded that 
 the graven images of the Hebrew idolaters should 
 be ground, and in that state scatter it to the four 
 winds and strew it upon the waters, that no human 
 hand shall ever again gather up the accursed atoms 
 and mould them into an image to be worshiped 
 again with human sacrifice." 
 
 When the war had terminated, it was the deliv 
 erance of the nation from all complicity with slav 
 ery that he regarded as its great and compensating 
 result. 
 
 A few weeks after peace was reestablished, his 
 
82 WILL 1 AM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 feelings of patriotic pride and satisfaction over 
 flowed in a letter of congratulation to Miss Sedg- 
 wick, in the course of which he said, "Never, 
 I think, was any great moral lesson so powerfully 
 inculcated by political history. What the critics 
 call poetic justice has been as perfectly accom 
 plished as it could have been in any imaginary 
 series of events. 
 
 " When I think of this great conflict and its 
 great issues, my mind reverts to the grand imagery 
 of the Apocalypse to the visions in which the 
 messengers of God came down to do his bidding 
 among the nations, to reap the earth, ripe for the 
 harvest, and gather the spoil of the vineyards; 
 to tread the winepress till it flows over far and 
 wide with blood ; to pour out the phials of God s 
 judgments upon the earth and turn its rivers into 
 blood ; and, finally, to bind the dragon and thrust 
 him down into the bottomless pit. 
 
 " Neither you nor I thought, until this war be 
 gan, that slavery would disappear from our coun 
 try until more than one generation had passed 
 away. Yet a greater than man has taken the work 
 in hand, and it is done in four years. It is a great 
 thing to have lived long enough to have seen this 
 mighty evil wrenched up from our soil by the roots 
 and thrown into the flames." 
 
 The war over, Bryant directed all his influence 
 and effort to the reparation of the graver financial 
 errors of the government, which the exigencies of 
 the preceding five years had, in the judgment of 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 83 
 
 patriots, palliated if not excused. He insisted 
 upon the immediate repeal of the "legal tender 
 act ; " he exposed and denounced the schemes which 
 were rife, especially in the Western and Southern 
 States, for the increase of inconvertible currency, 
 then popularly known as " soft money ; " and he 
 urged with unwonted vehemence the liberation of 
 the industries and commerce of the country from 
 the paralyzing burdens of what is euphuistically 
 termed " a war tariff," and the accumulation in 
 the treasury of wealth unnecessarily withdrawn 
 from the channels of productive industry. 
 
 On the brief chart of Bryant s career which we 
 are fashioning, it is only possible to set down the 
 headlands of the route by which he journeyed. The 
 topics we have enumerated constitute but a very 
 inconsiderable portion of those which he had occa 
 sion to treat in the course of his long professional 
 career, but they show the single-eyed, large-minded, 
 and patriotic spirit with which he dealt with all 
 public questions. It is doubtful if so wise, com 
 prehensive, and edifying a system of political ethics 
 as might be compiled from Mr. Bryant s editorial 
 contributions to the " Evening Post " can be found 
 elsewhere in the literature of our own or of any 
 other country. I do not believe any man ever sat 
 down to the discharge of a professional duty with a 
 more resolute determination to exclude the influ 
 ence of personal or selfish considerations. He re 
 peatedly felt himself constrained to take the unpop- 
 lar side on important public questions. His support 
 
84 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 of General Jackson in his war against the United 
 States Bank aroused a feeling against his paper 
 among the merchants of New York, upon whom 
 its existence largely depended, which no one of 
 much less weight of personal character and author 
 ity could have surmounted. The attitude of his 
 journal upon the slavery question also stripped its 
 columns of most of its advertisements, and brought 
 it to the verge of bankruptcy. 
 
 During the riots of 18C3, it enjoyed the distinc 
 tion of being threatened by a reactionary mob, and 
 had not special measures of defense been season 
 ably taken, it would doubtless have been sacked. 1 
 His firmness, his fidelity to principle, his uncalcu- 
 lating devotion to the greatest good of the greatest 
 number, and the dignified and temperate way in 
 which he was accustomed to commend his views to 
 the public were not wasted, though at times they 
 seemed to contribute more to deplete than replen 
 ish his exchequer. If many from that day turned 
 
 1 The following 1 note was sent in reply to one from his steward, 
 Mr. Cline, informing him that some one in the cars had been 
 overheard to say that " Bryant s house would have to blaze." 
 OFFICE OF THE EVENING POST. 
 NEW YORK, July 18, 18C3. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Mr. Henderson has just shown me your letter. 
 Four revolvers and ammunition will be sent down to you this even 
 ing. Mr. Godwin and Bryant (his grandson) know how they are 
 to be used, if you and others about you do not. You will, I 
 hope, be discreet in what you say, and though not believing too 
 much of what is reported, be ready for the worst. If John and 
 Jacob are willing to aid in the defense of the house, you may re 
 munerate them. As to Thomas, I am sure I may depend on him 
 as one not easily frightened. 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 85 
 
 back from following him, there was probably no 
 man in the whole country who was personally more 
 respected. Even in Tammany Hall, where his 
 paper and political doctrines were publicly de 
 nounced, a quotation from his poems by its speak 
 ers would be received with rounds of applause. 
 
 During the earlier and less prosperous portions 
 of his editorial career, the poet and the journalist 
 wrestled with each other in the affections of Bryant 
 like Esau and Jacob in the womb of Rebecca. 
 There was probably no time during the first twenty 
 years of his connection with the " Evening Post " 
 that he would not gladly have abandoned all his 
 interests in the property for half of what he re 
 ceived from it later in a single year. This feeling 
 nearly mastered him during the bank war and the 
 monetary crisis which followed it. Writing to his 
 friend Dana in 1836, he had already been seven 
 years on the " Post," he says : 
 
 " Plans for the future I have none at present, 
 except to work hard as I am now obliged to do ; I 
 hope, however, the day will come when I may re 
 tire without danger of starving, and give myself 
 to occupations that I like better. But who is suf 
 fered to shape the course of his own life ? " 
 
 In July following, he writes to his wife : 
 
 " The Evening Post was a sad, dull thing dur 
 ing the winter after Sedgwick l left it, and people 
 
 1 During Mr. Bryant s absence the previous year in Europe, 
 his partner, Mr. Leggett, had been taken ill, and the columns of 
 the Evening Post were temporarily confided to Theodore Sedg- 
 
86 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 were getting tired of it. I have raised it a good 
 deal, so that it begins to be talked about and 
 quoted. I must now apply myself to bringing it 
 up to its old standard, after which I shall look for 
 a purchaser. Dr. Anderson says he will find me 
 one. I think from the attention he pays to poli 
 tics, writing frequently, talking much, and coming 
 to the office to read the papers we receive in ex 
 change, that he may possibly become a purchaser 
 himself." 
 
 How modest were his views of a retiring fortune 
 in those days appears in a letter written to his 
 brother John in September of the same year : 
 
 " I think of making some disposition of my in 
 terest in the Evening Post, and coming out to 
 the Western country with a few thousand dollars to 
 try my fortune. What do you think of such a 
 plan ? What could I do next summer or fall with 
 a little capital of from three to five thousand dol 
 lars ? Will you write me at large your views of 
 the probability of my success, and of the particular 
 modes of investment which would yield the larg 
 est profit? I am inclined to think that I might 
 make money as fast as I can do it here, and with 
 much less wear and tear of brains. Write me 
 fully, but do not go too much into conjecture ; 
 speak only of what you know, or of what has ac 
 tually happened. I have not been much pleased, 
 
 wick, Jr., a member of the New York bar and a nephew of Miss 
 Sedg-wick, the authoress. His discussion of public questions 
 under the signature of " Veto* enjoyed quite a reputation in 
 their day. 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 87 
 
 since my return, with New York. The entire 
 thoughts of the inhabitants seem to be given to 
 the acquisition of wealth ; nothing else is talked 
 of. The city is dirtier and noisier, and more un 
 comfortable, and dearer to live in than it ever was 
 before. I have had my fill of a town life, and be 
 gin to wish to pass a little time in the country. I 
 have been employed long enough with the manage 
 ment of a daily newspaper, and desire leisure for 
 literary occupations that I love better. It was not 
 my intention when I went to Europe to return to 
 the business of conducting a newspaper. If I were 
 to come out to Illinois next spring with the design 
 of passing the year there, what arrangements could 
 be made for my family ? What sort of habitation 
 could I have, and what would it cost ? I hardly 
 think I shall come to Illinois to live, but I can tell 
 better after I have tried it. You are so distant 
 from all the large towns, and the means of educa 
 tion are so difficult to come at, and there is so little 
 literary society, that I am afraid I might wish to 
 get back to the Atlantic coast. I should like, how 
 ever, to try the experiment of a year at the West." 
 Again, in February of 1821*. he reveals to his 
 friend Dana his yearnings for more leisure and less 
 care. " The gains you talk of I wish I could see. 
 The expenses of printing and conducting a daily 
 paper have vastly increased lately, and there is no 
 increase in the rate of advertisements, etc., to make 
 it upjp 1 should be very glad of an opportunity to 
 attempt something in the way I like best, and am, 
 
88 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 perhaps, fittest for ; but here I am a draught-horse, 
 harnessed to a daily drag. I have so much to do 
 with my legs and hoofs, struggling and pulling 
 and kicking, that, if there is anything of the Peg 
 asus in me, I am too much exhausted to use my 
 wings. I would withdraw from the occupation if 
 I could do so and be certain of a moderate subsist 
 ence, for, with my habits and tastes, a very little 
 would suffice. I am growing, I fear, more discon 
 tented and impatient than I ought to be at the lot 
 whitih has fallen to me." 
 
 In the following year, 1837, he found himself 
 obliged to give up any idea of selling or fleeing, 
 for reasons assigned in the following letter to his 
 brother John : 
 
 "NEW YORK, October 25th. 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you for your kind 
 offer, and if I were at liberty I should like noth 
 ing better than to pass a year in Illinois. But I 
 am fastened here for the present. The 4 Evening 
 Post cannot be disposed of in these times, and, 
 on account of the difficulty of making collections, 
 its income does not present an appearance which 
 would enable me to sell it for its real value, even 
 if I could find a purchaser. I am chained to the 
 oar for another year, at least. The prospects of 
 the journal are, however, improving, though I arn 
 personally no better for it at present. I am very 
 much perplexed by the state of my pecuniary af 
 fairs. I have taken a house in town at as moderate 
 a rent as I could find, and expect my family from 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 89 
 
 the country in a very few days. I am obliged to 
 practice the strictest frugality, but that I do not 
 regard as an evil. The great difficulty lies in 
 meeting the debts in which the purchase of the 
 paper has involved me. When I went to Europe, 
 the Evening Post was producing a liberal in 
 come ; Mr. Leggett, who conducted it, espoused 
 very zealously the cause of the Abolitionists, and 
 then was taken ill. The business of the establish 
 ment fell into the hands of a drunken and saucy 
 clerk to manage, and the hard times came on. All 
 these things had a bad effect on the profits of the 
 paper, and when I returned they were reduced to 
 little or nothing. In the mean time Mr. Leggett 
 and myself had contracted a large debt for the 
 purchase of the Evening Post. He retired, and 
 the whole was left on my shoulders. I have been 
 laboring very diligently to restore the paper to a 
 prosperous state, and begin to have hopes that I 
 shall retrieve what was lost during my absence in 
 Europe by careful attention to the business of 
 the paper, properly so called. I cannot leave the 
 establishment till 1 have put it in good order. No 
 body will buy it of me. With so much to pay, 
 and with a paper so little productive, I have been 
 several times on the point of giving it up, and 
 going out into the world worse than penniless. 
 Nothing but a disposition to look at the hopeful 
 side of things prevented me, and I now see reason 
 to be glad that I persevered. 
 
 "I have no leisure for poetry. The labors in 
 
90 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 which I am engaged would not, perhaps, be great 
 to many people, but they are as great as I can 
 endure with a proper regard to my health. I can 
 not pursue intellectual labor so long as many of 
 a more robust or less nervous temperament. My 
 constitution requires intervals of mental repose. 
 To keep myself in health I take long walks in the 
 country, for half a day, a day, or two days. I can 
 not well leave my business for a longer period, and 
 I accustom myself to the greatest simplicity of 
 diet, renouncing tea, coffee, animal food, etc. By 
 this means I enjoy a health scarcely ever inter 
 rupted, but when I am fagged I hearken to nature 
 and allow her to recruit. I find by experience 
 that this must be if I would not kill myself. What 
 you say of living happily on small means I agree 
 to with all my heart. My ideas of competence 
 have not enlarged a single dollar. Indeed, they 
 have rather been moderated and reduced by recent 
 events, and I would be willing to compound for 
 a less amount than I would have done three or 
 four years since. If I had the means of retir 
 ing, I would go into the country, where 1 could 
 adopt a simpler mode of living, and follow the 
 bent of my inclination in certain literary pursuits, 
 but I have a duty to perform to my creditors." 
 
 Among the unanswerable problems of history 
 which have exercised the ingenuity of speculative 
 minds, there are few, perhaps, of more interest to 
 Americans than those which would have been pre 
 sented if some of the things that might have hap- 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 91 
 
 pened, and seemed likely to happen, had happened ; 
 if, for example, Columbus and his party had been 
 lost on the voyage which resulted in the discovery 
 of America, and if Milton, Cromwell, and the first 
 Napoleon had executed the purpose, which each 
 of them at one time seriously entertained, of seek 
 ing a refuge and a home on this side of the Atlan 
 tic. Of scarcely less interest would it be to his 
 countrymen to be able to divine the consequences 
 had Bryant s wish at this time to sell his paper 
 and emigrate to the West been granted. 
 
 Bryant managed in a few years to retrieve the 
 ground his journal had lost during his absence 
 from the country, and from that time his paper, 
 though once or twice threatened with disaster, al 
 ways yielded him enough to give him peace of 
 mind. Its revenues varied considerably at differ 
 ent periods, as its doctrines happened to be more or 
 less in accord with those of the party upon which 
 it was largely dependent, but it always proved a 
 sure reliance for his needs, and occasionally for 
 something more, though it never promised him afflu 
 ence until he had reached a pretty advanced period 
 of life. The average net earnings of his paper 
 prior to 1849 was about 110,000 a year, of which 
 his share was four tenths. Its net earnings for the 
 year 1850 were a little less than $16,000 ; for the 
 year 1860 it was over $70,000. From this time 
 forth, I think it may be stated with confidence that 
 Mr. Bryant experienced no privation which money 
 could relieve. He not only was able to provide for 
 
92 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 all the personal needs of himself and family, but 
 he had the chief if not the only privilege which 
 makes wealth desirable, of ministering to the wants 
 of others, and of extending substantial encourage 
 ment to those institutions of public beneficence 
 which specially commended themselves to his taste 
 and judgment. 
 
 We are all of us disposed at some stage, if not 
 at every stage, of our lives to complain of the 
 burdens we are required to carry, and of the diffi 
 culties with which we have to struggle like Milton s 
 lion, " to get free our hinder parts." Few, how 
 ever, are grateful, or at least as grateful as they 
 should be, for the discipline and the training which 
 they owe to these trials, and through which they 
 acquire most of whatever capacities for usefulness 
 and happiness they possess. Longfellow, during 
 his professional life at Cambridge, was constantly 
 groaning over the drudgery it imposed, and fancying 
 that if he had nothing to do, he would do a great 
 deal more. " Pardon me, oh ye souls," he wrote 
 to one of his correspondents, " who, seeing edu 
 cation only from afar, speak of it in such glowing 
 words. You see only the great pictures hanging in 
 the light ; not the grinding of the paint and the 
 oil, nor the pulling of hair from the camel s back 
 for the brushes." 
 
 Yet both of these gifted bards probably lived to 
 realize that neither would have attained the rank 
 they took, even as poets, not to say men, had their 
 lives lacked their background of drudgery. A life 
 
TEE JOURNALIST. 93 
 
 of pleasure, " stretched upon the rack of a too easy 
 chair," is of all lives the most miserable. There 
 is no recreation where there is no work. The 
 grinding of the paints may seem very hateful to the 
 enthusiastic artist, who naturally fancies himself 
 born for better things. But Longfellow, in this 
 allusion to a sister art, seems to have overlooked 
 the fact that the most renowned painters of the 
 world not only ground their own paints, but pre 
 pared their own canvases, and even the walls which 
 they decorated with their immortal frescoes. 
 
 Happily, Bryant was saved from the devices of 
 his own heart and the vita umbratilis for which 
 in his short-sightedness he yearned, and he lived 
 to realize the wisdom so quaintly phrased by 
 Quarles : 
 
 " Mechanic soul, thou must not only do 
 With Martha, but with Mary ponder too, 
 Happy the house where these two sisters vary, 
 But most, when Martha s reconciled to Mary." 
 
 Among the rarest things to find in all literary 
 history are men who have succeeded as well as Bry 
 ant in maintaining a conversancy with men and 
 affairs without entirely losing their hold of the con 
 templative life. 
 
 Partly from sanitary considerations, but more to 
 satisfy his craving for opportunities of indulging 
 his love of nature, which amounted more nearly 
 than anything else to a passion with him, he took 
 advantage of the first surge of financial prosperity 
 that overtook him to secure a country home. In 
 
94 WILLIAM CULLKN BRYANT. 
 
 1843, he found on Long Island a place entirely to 
 his taste. " It was near a little village afterward 
 called Roslyn, overlooking an estuary of the Sound, 
 such a nook as a poet might well choose, both 
 for its shady seclusion and its beautiful prospects ; 
 embowered in woods that covered a row of gentle 
 hills, and catching glimpses of a vast expanse of 
 water, enlivened in the distance by the sails of a 
 metropolitan commerce. The estate was at first 
 confined to a few -acres only, on which he proposed 
 erecting a house according to his taste, but he was 
 soon enamored of a house already erected on it, 
 and the next year made it his own. It was an old- 
 fashioned mansion, built by a plain Quaker in 1787, 
 containing many spacious rooms, surrounded by 
 shrubberies and grand trees, and communicating 
 by a shelving lawn with one of the prettiest of 
 small fresh-water lakes." j 
 
 With this acquisition life bloomed with new 
 charms for Bryant, and the toils of his profession 
 were at last "sweetened to his taste." Nothing 
 more was heard of selling the " Evening Post," 
 nor of a new home in the wilderness. For the re 
 mainder of his life, from early spring until winter 
 drove him to his city residence, he rarely spent less 
 than two or three days of every week at his lios- 
 lyn home. Leaving his cares behind him in town, 
 here he gave himself up u to keeping his friend 
 ships in repair," to nursing and developing all the 
 vital energies and graces of his garden and farm ; 
 1 Godwin s Life, i. 408. 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 95 
 
 to cultivating a most intimate acquaintance with 
 every tree and flower and fruit that they could be 
 encouraged to produce, and in teaching them to 
 become to his neighbors and friends the prolific 
 instruments of a judicious and seasonable benefi 
 cence. Here it was his delight to receive his old 
 friends, and to extend an unostentatious but wel 
 come hospitality to distinguished strangers who 
 were apt to think that " seeing the States " neces 
 sarily included a visit to Roslyn. 
 
 Partly to gratify a sentiment, but more in the 
 hope of benefiting Mrs. Bryant s health, which 
 already had become the subject of some solicitude, 
 in 1865 Bryant became the proprietor of another 
 country seat. Writing to an English correspond 
 ent, he says : "I have been passing a few weeks 
 at a place to which I shall return in a day or two. 
 I mean Cummington, my birthplace. Here I have 
 repossessed myself of the old homestead and farm 
 where my father and maternal grandfather lived, 
 and have fitted it up and planted a screen of ever 
 greens, from ten to twenty feet in height, back of 
 it to protect it from the northwest winds, though 
 that is of little consequence in summer, arid here 
 I pass several weeks in the warm season. The 
 region is high, nineteen hundred feet above the 
 level of the sea ; the summers are cool, the air Swiss- 
 like, and the healthiness of the country remarka 
 ble." . . . 
 
 His private letters from his country homes all 
 breathe of the regenerating atmosphere in which 
 
96 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 they were penned. Those who only knew Bryant 
 through the columns of his journal would hardly 
 recognize his pen in the following letter to his ven 
 erable friend, and for some time pastor, the Rev. 
 Dr. Dewey. 
 
 "NEW YORK, April 30, 1860. 
 
 " If we will have you, doctor? what words 
 have passed thy lips unweighed ? If the earth 
 will have the spring, if the sunflower will have 
 sunshine, if the flock will have grass. You 
 might as well put an if between a hungry man 
 and his dinner. You shall come to Roslyn, you 
 and your Sultana, and shall be welcome, and 
 treated en rois. If I were writing for the press 
 I should not say 4 en rois, for in public I hold it 
 my duty to maintain on all occasions the suprem 
 acy and sufficiency of the English language ; but 
 I have said en rois because it came into my head. 
 Come on and we will make the most of you 
 both, and anybody else you choose to bring with 
 you, that our poor means allow. You shall 
 not be walked out more than you absolutely 
 choose, nor asked to look at anything. You shall 
 have full leave to bury yourself in books, or write, 
 or think, or smoke away your time, and I will make 
 a provision of cigars for your idle hours, with the 
 prudent toleration which the innocent have for the 
 necessary vices of others. I have a coachman, and 
 he shall take you about the country whenever you 
 and Mrs. Dewey take a fancy for a ride. And 
 having done this, I will neglect you, for I am afraid 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 97 
 
 that is what you like, to your heart s content. And 
 then if, for T, too, must have my if, if you 
 will only stay over Sunday, you shall be asked to 
 preach by our orthodox Presbyterian minister, who 
 inquires when Dr. Dewey is expected, for he wants 
 to ask him to preach. Come, then, prepared for a 
 ten days sojourn, with a stock of patience in your 
 heart, and a sermon or two in your pocket, of your 
 second or third quality, for we are quite plain peo 
 ple here, and anything very fine is wasted upon us. 
 " For any imperfections in my eulogy on Irving 
 I beg you to consider the Historical Society as 
 responsible ; they put it upon me without consulting 
 me ; and at first I flatly refused, but I was after 
 ward talked into consent. Besides the excuses of 
 incapacity, unworthiness, and all that, I did not 
 want the labor of writing the discourse. There has 
 been no end of work with me the past winter. . . . 
 Among other symptoms of age, I find a disposition 
 growing up within me to regard the world as be 
 longing to a new race of men, who have somehow 
 or other got into it, and taken possession of it, and 
 among whom I am a superfluity. What have I to 
 do with their quarrels and controversies ? I, who 
 am already proposed as a member of the same club 
 with Daniel Defoe and Sir Eoger L Estrange. Is 
 it fitting that, just as I have taken my hat to go out 
 and join the Ptolemies, I should be plucked by the 
 elbow and asked to read a copy of silly verses, and 
 say whether they are fit to be printed ? Besides, it 
 seems to be agreed by everybody who is about my 
 
98 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 own age, or older, that the world is nowadays much 
 wickeder than when they were young ; and it is 
 no more than it deserves to leave it to take care 
 of itself as it can. But we will talk over these 
 things when you come." 
 
 Again, three years later, he pleads for another 
 visit from his reverend friend, written in a yet 
 more frolicsome not to say rollicksome mood : 
 
 " ROSLYN, October 5, 1863. 
 
 " Looking at your last a second time, it strikes 
 me that you might, perhaps, expect that I should 
 answer some part of it. Let me say, then, that 
 we will give you a reasonable time to consider the 
 question of coming to Roslyn, you and Mrs. Dewey, 
 if you will only come at last, and before the days 
 arrive described in the verses which you will find 
 on the other leaf of this sheet. Mrs. Kirkland 
 says she will come when you do. 
 
 " The season wears an aspect glum and glummer, 
 The icy north wind, an unwelcome comer, 
 Frighting 1 from garden-walks each pretty hummer, 
 Whose murmuring music lulled the noons of summer, 
 Roars in the woods, with grummer voice and grummer, 
 And thunders in the forest like a drummer. 
 Dumb are the birds, they could not well be dumber ; 
 The winter-cold, life s pitiless benumber, 
 Bursts water-pipes, and makes us call the plumber. 
 Now, by the fireside, toils the patient thumber 
 Of ancient books, and no less patient summer 
 Of long accounts, while topers fill the rummer, 
 The maiden thinks what furs will best become her, 
 And on the stage-boards shouts the gibing mummer. 
 Shut in by storms, the dull piano-strummer 
 Murders old tunes. There s nothing wearisomer! " 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 99 
 
 It is true that for the first twenty years of his 
 editorial career Bryant led a very laborious life, 
 but it was not merely love of the quiet and leisure 
 of an independent planter, nor aversion to the din 
 and distraction of the city, that caused him to 
 dream of exchanging his newspaper for a farm on 
 the prairies. Hard work did not worry him ; on 
 the contrary, during all this period his health 
 seemed constantly to improve, and the care which 
 he took of it was so judicious that he was always 
 in condition for literary work of any kind. He 
 seemed to have no moods nor seasons when literary 
 labor was to him more or less irksome than at 
 other. His discontent with his position has been 
 and will always be the common experience of all 
 who attempt to impose upon their neighbors higher 
 standards of duty than their neighbors are pre 
 pared to accept. Those paths always lead to Cal 
 vary and the Cross. Bryant s standards were very 
 high. His editorial work was chiefly critical. To 
 find fault with the conduct of large parties and of 
 communities is never a gracious task, and is the less 
 gracious the more it is deserved. Bryant was so 
 constituted morally, that when he saw public 
 abuses, especially in high places, he could not hold 
 his peace. He felt like St. Paul that, did he keep 
 silence, the very stones would cry out. He was 
 not prone to calculate the consequences of publicly 
 judging the rest of mankind by his own standards. 
 He was once heard to quote in extenuation of his 
 course the following majestic passage of Milton : 
 
100 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 " It is manifest with what small willingness I 
 endure, to leave calm and pleasing solitariness, to 
 embark upon a troublous sea of noises and harsh 
 disputes ; put from beholding the bright counte 
 nance of Truth in the quiet of delightful studies ; 
 but one of the meanest under service, if God by 
 his secretary, conscience, enjoined it, it were sad 
 for me if I should draw back." 
 
 The duty of the journalist to comment some 
 times with severity upon the conduct of public men, 
 and of men with whom he entertains or has enter 
 tained social relations, is one of the most unpleas 
 ant that his profession devolves upon him. It 
 tends to drive him from public resorts and make 
 him appear unsocial. It had these effects upon 
 Bryant during the most active portion of his life 
 as a journalist. He studied to so manage his crit 
 ical function as to create the least possible friction, 
 and was wont to cite to his editorial associates the 
 example of Dr. Bartlett, the editor of a weekly 
 paper in New York, especially addressed to Eng 
 lish people, called u The Albion," who made it a 
 rule " never to write anything of any one which 
 would make it unpleasant to meet him the follow 
 ing day at dinner." Though Bryant thought well 
 of this standard, it must be conceded that in the 
 discharge of what he esteemed his duty as a jour 
 nalist, he had somewhat reduced the number of 
 people whom it would have been pleasant for him 
 or them to meet at the same festive board. Chacun 
 a les defauts de ses vertus, and Mr. Bryant was 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 101 
 
 so constituted that no relations, social, political, or 
 literary, could induce him to forget that in his edi 
 torial chair he was the trustee of the public, the 
 sentinel of a sleeping army. As such he sometimes 
 incurred the reproach of intolerance and unchari- 
 tableness, not from being too severe in his condem 
 nation of wrong, but in his judgments of those to 
 whom such wrongs were imputed, no one but the 
 Master knowing the extenuating circumstances of 
 every man s misconduct. 
 
 This loyalty to his profession disinclined him to 
 partake of the hospitalities of those whose posi 
 tions before the public were liable to bring them 
 under his editorial guns. Hence his social rela 
 tions through life were mostlv with those who were 
 
 O f 
 
 contented with the honors and dignities which 
 could be acquired and enjoyed in private stations. 
 Outside of the comparatively restricted number 
 to whom his standards did not seem chimerical, he 
 was by some regarded as a scold, by more as an 
 impracticable guide. The editor of the " Herald " 
 was in the habit of referring to him and his asso 
 ciates as " Ifee Poets of the Post." Of course, 
 by those who happened to be directly under the 
 shadow of his frown, he was regarded as an enemy. 
 He heard little from those who approved of and 
 admired his work, while he was deafened with the 
 clamor of those whose consciences were pricked, 
 whose vanity was wounded, or whose schemes were 
 thwarted by his denunciations. It seemed to him 
 in those earlier stages of his journalistic experience 
 
102 WILLIAM CUILEN BRYANT. 
 
 that he was rowing against a strong current, with 
 out the hope of any assistance of wind or tide. 
 Had he been willing simply to reflect the fads and 
 fancies of the day, had he been able to permit his 
 paper to drift with the tide, he might probably 
 have found his employment lucrative, and himself 
 a popular favorite. 
 
 Bryant s friend Dana had little faith in the 
 efficacy of his methods of reforming and perfect 
 ing society, and was constantly urging him to 
 stick to his poetry. He said to him, " Keep 
 eye and heart upon poetry all that you can, amid 
 bustle and anxiety. As to reforming the world, 
 give all that up. It is not to be done in a day, 
 nor, on your plan, through all time. Human na 
 ture is not fitted for such a social condition as 
 your fancy is pleased with." 
 
 Dana was more nearly right than Bryant then 
 supposed him to be, but far less nearly right than 
 he supposed himself to be. Bryant, perhaps, ex 
 aggerated the importance of political organizations, 
 criticism, and debate under republican institutions, 
 overlooking the great and controlling fact that in 
 a popular government the laws and their admin 
 istration will always fairly express the average 
 morality and intelligence of the community that 
 makes them, and that the only way to secure higher 
 standards of legislation and administration is to 
 elevate the average of the morality and intelli 
 gence of the constituency. In saying, therefore, 
 that the world was not to be reformed on Bryant s 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 103 
 
 plan, Dana was perhaps the nearer right of the 
 two ; but the intimation of Dana that human nature 
 is so constituted that the people are incapable of 
 improving their government, and that they should 
 be ruled by a hereditary or dynastic class, like 
 convicts in a prison or a chain-gang, which was 
 practically his view, was yet farther from the truth, 
 as we think history is demonstrating. Paul fight 
 ing with the beasts at Ephesus, Dana must have 
 deemed a mistake, a waste of energy, resurrection 
 or no resurrection. 
 
 There is no doubt that in republics the govern 
 ment can only be improved substantially by rais 
 ing the moral standard of the people. While not 
 undervaluing nor neglecting ethical teaching, Mr. 
 Bryant, in common with most men having to deal 
 with public questions, expected more from political 
 organizations and combinations than was to be 
 realized from them, while later in life he became 
 aware that governments like clocks would run 
 down as they were wound up ; that they are re 
 sultant forces, the directions of which are more or 
 less affected by each individual member of the so 
 ciety for which it is constituted, and that the gov 
 ernment which remains after we have done what 
 we think best in our respective spheres is, on the 
 whole, the government best suited for its constit 
 uency. 
 
 Though Bryant never consciously gave up to 
 party what was meant for mankind, he was, never 
 theless, in every proper sense of the word, a party 
 
104 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 man. While recognizing every man s primary 
 responsibility to his own conscience, he did not 
 pretend to think anybody wiser than everybody. 
 In dealing, therefore, with all public questions he 
 recognized fully the importance of combination. 
 He as freely criticised the conduct of his own 
 party as of any other, but he never broke with it 
 unless and until it was convicted of subordinating 
 
 O 
 
 the greater to the lesser interests of society. While 
 its main tendencies were right, he submitted to its 
 errors of detail. He broke with the Democratic 
 party in 1848, refusing to support the candidature 
 of General Cass for President; but not because 
 of anything in the public life of General Cass 
 which he did not admire, nor of much in the res 
 olutions of the Convention which nominated him, 
 which he frankly denounced, but because the Dem 
 ocratic party of the State in which he resided was 
 not represented in the Convention by which Cass 
 had been nominated. He insisted that the State 
 of New York was entitled to a voice in the selec 
 tion of a candidate for its support, and he was the 
 less disposed to put up with her practical exclusion 
 from the Convention because it was effected in the 
 interests and at the behests of the partisans of 
 slavery. With Cass s defeat he resumed his rela 
 tions with his party, supporting all succeeding 
 Democratic candidates until the nomination of 
 Abraham Lincoln in I860. 1 
 
 1 Writing 1 to one of his brothers shortly after the nomination of 
 Franklin Pierce to the Presidency by the Democratic party, and 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 105 
 
 The Democratic party at this election was di 
 vided by the slavery question, and presented two 
 
 John P. Hale by the Abolitionists, he vindicated his support of 
 the former in the following terms : 
 
 " The Free-Soil Party is now doing 1 nothing 1 . Its representa 
 tives in Congress have wasted their time till all chance of repeal 
 ing or modifying the fugitive slave law is gone by, if there ever 
 was any. They have left everything to be done by the journals. 
 Now, at the end of the session, when it is too late for serious de 
 bate, Sumner gets up and wants to make a speech. They refuse 
 to consider his resolution, as might have been expected. He 
 might have stated the subject a score of times in the early part 
 of the session. The whole conduct of the public men of the 
 party has been much of a piece with this. What is the use of 
 preserving a separate organization if such be its fruits ? But, as 
 I intimated, I see not the least chance of a repeal or change of 
 the fugitive slave law. Its fate is to fall into disuse. All politi 
 cal organizations to procure its repeal are attempts at an im 
 practicability. We must make it odious, and prevent it from 
 being enforced. That the Evening Post can do, in a certain 
 measure, just as effectively by supporting Pierce as Hale. Nay, 
 it can do it far more effectually. A journal belonging to a large 
 party has infinitely more influence than when it is the organ of a 
 small conclave. In speaking against slavery, the Evening Post 
 expresses the opinions of a large number of people ; in exhort 
 ing them to vote for Mr. Hale it expresses the opinions of few. 
 The Free-Soil members of Congress Male and Sumner, and 
 many others are not more than half right on various important 
 questions. Freedom of trade is not by any means a firmly estab 
 lished policy in this country. I do not know where these men 
 are on that question. They vote away the public money into the 
 pockets of the Hunkers, Collins, for example. The only cer 
 tainty we have of safety in regard to these matters is in a Demo 
 cratic administration. 
 
 " These are some of my reasons for supporting Pierce. I think 
 the slavery question an important one, but I do not see what is to 
 be done for the cause of freedom by declining to vote for the 
 Democratic candidate. 
 
 "We of New York the Democrats of the State, I mean 
 
106 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 candidates ; neither, however, opposed to the exten 
 sion of slavery into the free Territories, upon which 
 point he was inexorable. The Kepublican party, 
 which had been organized during the interval 
 from the anti-slavery elements of both the old par 
 ties for the purpose mainly of resisting such ex 
 tension, presented Abraham Lincoln as its candi 
 date. As the triumph of either of the Democratic 
 candidates would have practically resulted in dis 
 puting the right of the majority to rule, and in 
 the subversion of the principles upon which our 
 government was founded and upon which only it 
 could hope to subsist, Mr. Bryant supported the 
 Republican candidate. 
 
 These are, I believe, the only instances in his 
 long career as a journalist in which he did not find 
 it wise and expedient to put up with the evils of 
 
 will contend for the measures and principles we think right, let 
 what will come of it. No man pledged against the prohibition 
 of slavery in the Territories, or supposed to be hostile to it, will 
 be able to get the vote of the State of New York. Any separate 
 organization, however, would come to nothing. All parties 
 formed for a single measure are necessarily short-lived, and are 
 as much subject to the abuses and vices of party as any other I 
 have sometimes thought more so. I never mean to belong to any 
 of them unless I see some very strong and compelling reason for 
 it. The journalist who goes into one of these narrow associations 
 gains by it no increase of independence in discussion, while he 
 parts with the greater part of his influence. As to the influence 
 of the administration, it is at this moment very insignificant in 
 New York. It is strongest in the city, where the government 
 patronage is greatest ; but even here it is extremely feeble, and 
 in the country it hardly exists. We are awaiting, as you see, what 
 will grow out of the present state of things with no very san 
 guine hopes, and very indefinite notions of what the event will be." 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 107 
 
 the party in which he had enrolled himself, rather 
 than fly to evils he knew not of in other organiza 
 tions. Had he not ceased to take much interest in 
 public affairs, and to participate in the active 
 management of his paper, it is not unlikely that 
 he would have broken with the Republican party 
 during the later years of President Grant s admin 
 istration, with which he was extremely dissatisfied. 
 Though his paper rendered a perfunctory sup 
 port to the Republican candidate of 1876, we feel 
 authorized to affirm that he did not vote for him. 
 
 In dealing with facts, Mr. Bryant was not only 
 conscientious, but cautious. In the whole of his 
 long career he was rarely called upon to defend 
 any statement of fact, or to qualify it. Though 
 endowed by nature with a violent temper, he was 
 singularly temperate in debate. He had a refined 
 humor, and, when occasion required, was master of 
 a scathing satire, but he was never tempted to in 
 dulge in either at the expense of his own dignity 
 or that of the subject he might be treating. From 
 his editorials it would not be difficult to extract 
 some of the finest specimens of prose in our lan 
 guage, but unhappily they are so woven into the 
 texture of events of transitory importance, and for 
 the most part long since forgotten, that their fame, 
 which in their day was not limited by the bounds 
 of the country to which they were addressed, can 
 hardly be expected to survive another generation. 
 
 The degree and kind of influence exerted by 
 Mr. Bryant, or, indeed, by any other journalist 
 
108 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 upon human society, can only be properly appre 
 ciated by contemporary readers, for the reason 
 that the work of the journalist never culminates 
 in results which are traceable to their proper 
 parentage. The soldier wins a battle, the lawyer 
 wins his case, the statesman by his wisdom or his 
 eloquence brings a nation to his feet, the philan 
 thropist founds a durable public charity, the artist 
 produces a masterpiece. In these results the toil 
 and study of years are made intelligible and im 
 pressive. They not only address the imagination, 
 but from what we see we are enabled to form a 
 tolerably definite idea of the power required to 
 achieve them. The work of a journalist offers no 
 such appeal to the imagination. Like the sun 
 upon the vegetation of our planet, the journalist 
 leaves an impression upon the minds of many 
 thousands every day, but, unlike the sun, these 
 successive daily impressions do not culminate in a 
 harvest. The world little recks their influence, 
 dispensed like the familiar and unnoticed alterna 
 tions of day and night, in shaping the thought and 
 in building up the dignity, power, and resources of 
 the nation. 
 
 Though, as has been already remarked, Bryant 
 was not a man of moods and tenses, but owing to 
 the regularity and simplicity of his life and his 
 wise control of all his appetites was always in con 
 dition for any kind of intellectual exertion, he was 
 not without some of the eccentricities of genius. 
 He never liked to write for his journal except at 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 109 
 
 his desk in his office. It cost him a special effort 
 to do any work for the paper elsewhere, and it is 
 hardly an exaggeration to say that he never wrote 
 for the paper at his home. When the semi-cen 
 tennial anniversary of the " Evening Post " was 
 approaching, it was proposed to him to prepare for 
 its columns a sketch of its career. He cheerfully 
 accepted the task, and in order that he might be 
 free from interruption he was advised to go down 
 to his country-home at Roslyn and remain there 
 until it was finished, and have such of the files of 
 the paper as he might have occasion to consult 
 sent to him there. He rejected the proposal as 
 abruptly as if he had been asked to offer sacrifices 
 to Apollo. He would allow no such work to follow 
 him there. Not even the shadow of his business 
 must fall upon the consecrated haunts of his muse. 
 He rarely brought or sent anything from the coun 
 try for the " Evening Post ; " but if he did, it was 
 easy to detect in the character of the fish that they 
 had been caught in strange waters. This separa 
 tion of his professional from his poetical life must 
 be taken into account in any effort to explain the 
 uniform esteem in which he was always held as a 
 poet by his country people, while occasionally one 
 of the least popular of journalists. 1 Bryant s office 
 desk was his newspaper Egeria. It was also a curi 
 osity. Except for a space immediately in front of 
 
 1 For a copy of this paper, which abounds in interesting 1 me 
 morials of one of the oldest journals in the country, see Appen 
 dix A. 
 
110 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 him about two feet long and eighteen inches deep, 
 his desk was usually covered to the depth of from 
 twelve to twenty inches with opened letters, manu 
 script, pamphlets, and books, the accumulation of 
 years. During his absence in Europe in 1859-60, 
 his associate thought to do Bryant a good turn by 
 getting rid of this rubbish and clearing his table 
 so that he should have room for at least one of his 
 elbows on the table. When he returned and saw 
 what had been done, it was manifest from his ex 
 pression he said nothing that what had been 
 so kindly intended was regarded as anything but 
 a kindness. He had also one habit in common 
 with Pope, 1 of always writing his " copy " for the 
 paper on the backs of these old letters and re 
 jected MSS. One who was associated with him for 
 many years in the management of the " Evening 
 Post " affirms that he never knew Bryant to write 
 an article for its columns on a fresh sheet of paper. 
 He also used a quill pen, which he was in the habit 
 of mending with a knife nearly as old as himself, 
 and which might originally have cost him fifty 
 cents. He has been heard to speak of this knife 
 with affection, and to resent the suggestion that he 
 should replace it with a better one. Every year 
 had added a value to it which no new knife could 
 possibly have in his eyes. The same attachment 
 to old servants made him hold on to a blue cotton 
 
 1 "Paper-sparing- Pope" was an epithet bestowed by Swift 
 upon the poet. A great part of his version of the Iliad was writ 
 ten upon the backs of letters. 
 
THE JOURNALIST. Ill 
 
 umbrella which had very little to commend it 
 either in fair weather or foul but its age. The 
 ladies of his household at last, and when he was 
 about setting out for Mexico, conspired against 
 the umbrella, hid it away, and in its place packed 
 a nice new silk one. He discovered the fraud that 
 had been practiced upon him, turned his back 
 upon the parvenu, and insisted upon the restora 
 tion of his old and injured friend to its accustomed 
 post of honor by his side. To him age made 
 everything sacred but abuses. He petted the old 
 brutes of his barnyard and stables, and held to 
 his old friends with hooks of steel, closing his eyes 
 resolutely to everything about them which he could 
 not admire. When his friends Verplanck and Til- 
 den deprecated the nomination of Lincoln to the 
 Presidency and opposed his election, preferring to 
 leave the slavery problem to the sagacious minis 
 trations of time, much as he regretted their course, 
 and frankly as he denounced it, he never permitted 
 it for one moment to disturb their friendly rela 
 tions, or to interrupt their mutual confidences. He 
 knew no one better that our affections are 
 the growth of what in us is permanent, our opin 
 ions, of what is more or less changeable and tran 
 sient. 
 
 History teaches nothing more persistently than 
 the demoralizing influences which beset the possess 
 ors of extraordinary power, and she has preserved 
 to us the names of very few who have been able to 
 resist them. The enormous power wielded by the 
 
112 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 director of a free press who is in a position daily 
 to address thousands, and perhaps hundreds of 
 thousands, most of whom are but imperfectly qual 
 ified to test the value of his opinions, is very in 
 toxicating. It is especially so to the junior mem 
 bers of the profession who have not previously 
 been accustomed to any special deference for their 
 utterances. The privilege of saying what one 
 pleases, of whom one pleases, when and as often as 
 one pleases ; to discipline a president or a cabinet 
 minister as if he were a school-boy or a culprit ; to 
 sneer at foreign sovereigns ; to make or mar the 
 fortunes of a new book or play ; to " boom " or 
 bankrupt a struggling corporation ; to trifle with 
 the character of eminent citizens, or with the 
 peace of a social or domestic circle, is one which 
 few can possess without abusing, nor without grad 
 ually getting to underestimate the rights and 
 judgments of others, and to overestimate their own. 
 Arrogance, conceit, rashness, and self-sufficiency 
 are the infirmities to which the profession of jour 
 nalism is most exposed, and which only the array 
 of the higher qualities of human character can suc 
 cessfully resist. 
 
 It is no mean evidence of the solid foundations 
 upon which Bryant s moral character was erected 
 that he never betrayed under any temptations or 
 provocations the intoxicating influence of news 
 paper despotism. No one could ever detect a 
 purely personal end to serve, a personal griev 
 ance to avenge, a personal ambition or vanity to be 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 113 
 
 gratified, in any line that he ever wrote for his 
 journal. 
 
 If he had occasion to defend himself, his defense 
 was sure to repose on public not on personal 
 grounds. He regarded himself strictly as a trustee 
 for the public, and bound to consecrate all the 
 forces and influences of his paper to the public 
 use. Hence, though an alert and aggressive com 
 batant, and by his literary and moral eminence 
 sure to give more or less of dignity and conse 
 quence to any assailant, it was not possible to en 
 gage him in a personal controversy, unless public 
 considerations were involved, and then they were 
 always placed in the front of the battle. In this 
 respect, also, he was in his day an exceptional as 
 well as a model journalist. 
 
 " In his intercourse with his colaborers and subordi 
 nates," wrote Mr. Godwin who was for many years his 
 associate in the "Evening Post," "the impression pro 
 duced by Mr. Bryant, after a certain reticence, which 
 diffused an atmosphere of coldness about him, was 
 broken through, was that of his extreme simplicity and 
 sincerity of character. He was as transparent as the 
 day, as guileless as a child, and as clear in his integrity 
 as the crystal that has no flaw nor crack. His love of 
 truth was so instinctive and controlling that he seldom 
 indulged in an indirection of speech except in the in 
 dulgence of his wit, which often flashed like summer 
 lightning through the dark clouds of debate. He used 
 no polite terms merely because they were polite, a plain, 
 uncompromising adherence to the letter of his phrase 
 
114 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 seeming to him better than the most courtly affectation. 
 As he tried to see all things as they were in their real 
 relations to each other, so he tried to convey his percep 
 tion and feeling of them to others as they were. That 
 exquisite fidelity to nature which forms one of the 
 charms of his poetry pervaded his life and his utterances. 
 No amount of adulation or flattery and these were 
 sometimes heaped upon him in unmeasured terms to 
 ward the latter part of his career ever disturbed his 
 modest estimate of himself, or misled him into vanity or 
 presumption. To those who stood near him there was 
 always something sublime in the severe yet single- 
 hearted and unassuming simplicity of his bearing. 
 Sensitive, as men of poetical temperament are apt to be, 
 his command of his irritabilities and passions was so 
 complete that he breathed an air perpetually serene and 
 bright." x 
 
 It is possible that his power as a journalist 
 might have been increased by a larger intercourse 
 with the world. During the most active stages 
 of his professional career he saw comparatively 
 few people, save those who sought him at his 
 office, and these consisted largely, of course, of 
 those who had personal ends to serve by the visit. 
 This isolation made it so much easier for designing 
 men to disguise the antipathies, prejudices, and 
 selfishness which often prompted their suggestions. 
 A larger commerce with the world would have rec 
 tified erroneous impressions sometimes left upon 
 
 1 Letter addressed to the Evening Post from Carlsbad, Ger 
 many, June 15, 1878. 
 
THE JOURNALIST. 115 
 
 his mind by this class of parasites, who usually 
 approached him on the moral side of his nature, 
 because it was the most impressionable. 
 
 Though accustomed daily for more than half a 
 century to discuss professionally the doings of our 
 federal and state governments, he was never at 
 Washington before the war, I believe, but once, 
 except as a traveler passing through to some re 
 moter point. He was once urged to visit the fed 
 eral capital during an important crisis in our 
 struggle for free labor and free speech. He de 
 clined, assigning as a reason that he had been 
 there once, I think it was during the adminis 
 tration of President Van Buren, and found that 
 he was more content with the judgment he formed 
 in his office of the doings at the seat of govern 
 ment than with any he was able to form under 
 the shadow of the Capitol. Once also during a 
 critical period of the war he yielded reluctantly to 
 the importunities of some friends, and went to 
 Washington to urge a more vigorous prosecution 
 of the war and the immediate emancipation of the 
 slaves. He shrank too from the restraints which 
 personal intercourse with the public servants im 
 posed upon the freedom of his pen. According to 
 his view, a journalist did less than his duty who 
 did not strive at least to leave the world better 
 than he found it ; who did not wrestle with those 
 social and political abuses which are amenable to 
 public opinion. The reform of society, as he 
 thought, like Mahomed s paradise, lies in the 
 
116 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 shadow of crossed swords. Controversy, therefore, 
 always earnest and sometimes acrimonious with 
 those whom he regarded as the Amorites, the 
 Hivites, and the Perizzites of the land, was inev 
 itable. With them he made no terms. He had 
 no personal antagonisms, but he could not compro 
 mise or transact with those whom he regarded as 
 the enemies of society. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE POET. 
 
 As a poet, Bryant is to be judged by the quality 
 rather than the quantity of his work. The sum of 
 all his verse that he thought worth preserving did 
 not exceed thirteen thousand lines. Of these, 
 about one third were written before 1829. The 
 double task of mastering his new profession and 
 that of discharging its duties pretty effectually 
 absorbed his time and thoughts for several of the 
 succeeding years. He wrote but thirty lines in 
 1830, but sixty in 1831. In 1832, he wrote two 
 hundred and twenty-two. It does not appear that 
 he wrote any in 1833. In the ten years imme 
 diately succeeding 1829, he seems to have produced 
 only eleven hundred and thirty-seven lines, or a 
 trifle over one hundred lines a year. But though 
 he produced comparatively little during this dec 
 ade, he did not suffer the waters of " livid ob 
 livion " to roll over him. 
 
 In 1831, he published a volume containing about 
 eighty of his poems, in addition to those which had 
 appeared in the pamphlet collection in 1821. He 
 was induced to try the fortunes of this little vol 
 ume by more impartial and less indulgent tests 
 
118 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 than those to which his verse had hitherto been 
 subjected. 
 
 A friend had shown him a letter written by 
 Washington Irving, from Madrid, in which oc 
 curred the following passage : 
 
 " I have been charmed with what I have seen of the 
 writing of Bryant and Halleck. Are you acquainted 
 with them ? I should like to know something about 
 them personally ; their view of thinking is quite above 
 that of ordinary men and ordinary poets, and they are 
 masters of the magic of poetic language." 
 
 Encouraged if not determined by these words of 
 commendation from such a competent authority, 
 Mr. Bryant sent a copy of his volume to Murray 
 in London, and at the same time addressed the 
 following note to Irving : 
 
 " Sm, I have put to press in this city a duo 
 decimo volume of two hundred and forty pages, 
 comprising all my poems which I thought worth 
 printing, most of which have already appeared. 
 Several of them I believe you have seen, and of 
 some, if I am rightly informed, you have been 
 pleased to express a favorable opinion. Before 
 publishing the thing here, I have sent a copy of it 
 to Murray, the London bookseller, by whom I am 
 anxious that it should be published in England. 
 I have taken the liberty, which I hope you will 
 pardon a countryman of yours, who relies on the 
 known kindness of your disposition to plead his 
 excuse, of referring him to you. As it is not alto 
 gether impossible that the work might be repub- 
 
THE POET. 119 
 
 lished in England, if I did not offer it myself, I 
 could wish that it might be published by a respect 
 able bookseller in a respectable manner. 
 
 " I have written to Mr. Verplanck desiring him 
 to give me a letter to you on the subject, but as the 
 packet which takes out my book will sail before I 
 can receive an answer I have presumed so far on 
 your goodness as to make the application myself. 
 May I ask of you the favor to write to Mr. Mur 
 ray on the subject as soon as you receive this ? In 
 my letter to him I have said nothing of the terms, 
 which, of course, will depend upon circumstances 
 which I may not know or of which I cannot judge. 
 I should be glad to receive something for the 
 work, but if he does not think it worth while to 
 give anything, I had rather he should take it for 
 nothing than that it should not be published by a 
 respectable publisher. 
 
 " I must again beg you to excuse the freedom I 
 have taken. I have no personal acquaintance in 
 England whom I could ask to do what I have ven 
 tured to request of you ; and I know of no person 
 to whom I could prefer the request with greater 
 certainty that it will be kindly entertained. 
 
 " I am, sir, 
 
 With sentiments of the highest respect, 
 Your obedient and humble servant, 
 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 " P. S. I have taken the liberty to accompany 
 this letter with a copy of the work." 
 
 Bryant received the following reply from Mr. 
 
120 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 Irving, dated at Byron s former home, Newstead 
 Abbey, January 26, 1832 : 
 
 DEAR SIR, I feel very much ohliged to you for 
 the volume you have had the kindness to send me, and 
 am delighted to have in my possession a collection of 
 your poems, which, separately, I have so highly admired. 
 It will give me the greatest pleasure to be instrumental 
 in bringing before the British public a volume so honor 
 able to our national literature. When I return to Lon 
 don, which will be in the course of a few days, I will 
 ascertain whether any arrangement can be effected by 
 which some pecuniary advantage can be secured to you. 
 On this head I am not very sanguine. The book trade 
 is at present in a miserably depressed state in England, 
 and the publishers have become shy and parsimonious. 
 Besides, they will not be disposed to offer you anything 
 for a work in print for which they cannot secure a copy 
 right. I am sorry you sent the work to Murray, who 
 has disappointed me grievously in respect to other 
 American works intrusted to him ; and who has acted 
 so unjustly in recent transactions with myself as to im 
 pede my own literary arrangements, and oblige me to 
 look around for some other publisher. I shall, however, 
 write to him about your work, and if he does not imme 
 diately undertake it, will look elsewhere for a favorable 
 channel of publication. 
 
 Believe me, my dear sir, 
 
 With the highest consideration, 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 Within a week from the date of this letter Mr. 
 Irving received the following note from Murray : 
 
THE POET. 121 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, I received Mr. Bryant s poems yes 
 terday, and I am very sorry to say it is quite out of 
 Mr. Murray s power to do anything for him, or with 
 them. I send the volume to you in compliance with 
 your request. 
 
 I am, dear sir, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 J. MURRAY, JR. 
 
 It seems to us now as if this reply or retort, 
 whichever it was, might have been more courteous. 
 How far its tenor was influenced by the quality of 
 the poetry, how far by a national prejudice at that 
 time more or less prevalent against anything Amer 
 ican, and how far by the strained relations that 
 chanced then to exist between the publisher and the 
 sponsor of the poems, are questions which it is im 
 possible and now, happily, unimportant to deter 
 mine. As a publisher and man of business, Mr. 
 Murray probably was not at fault in declining the 
 poems. For a variety of reasons, none of which, 
 I venture to think, go to their merits, Bryant s 
 poetry has never touched a very sympathetic chord 
 in England. 1 
 
 Mr. Irving, however, was not discouraged by the 
 repulse of Murray, and soon made arrangements 
 with another Jiouse, and thus announced the suc 
 cess of his negotiations on the 6th of March : 
 
 1 A curious illustration of the lack of esteem for Bryant s 
 poetry in England, and prevailing ignorance there of his life- 
 work as a journalist, may be found in the recent edition of the 
 Encyclopedia Britannica, which has found no place in its Wal- 
 halla for the name of William Cullen Bryant. 
 
122 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, I send you a copy of the second 
 edition of your work, published this day. You will 
 perceive that I have taken the liberty of putting my 
 name as editor, and of dedicating the work to Mr. 
 Rogers. Something was necessary to call attention at 
 this moment of literary languor and political excitement 
 to a volume of poetry by an author almost unknown to 
 the British public. 
 
 I have taken the further liberty of altering two or 
 three words in the little poem of " Marion s Men," lest 
 they might startle the pride of John Bull on your first 
 introduction to him. 
 
 Mr. Andrews, the bookseller, has promised to divide 
 with you any profits that may arise on the publication, 
 and I have the fullest reliance on his good faith. The 
 present moment, however, is far from promising to liter 
 ary gains, and I should not be surprised if the returns 
 were but trifling. 
 
 Believe me, my dear Sir, 
 
 Very respectfully and truly yours, 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 WM. C. BRYANT, ESQB. 
 
 Dana, who took more than a paternal pride in 
 Bryant s poetry, choked a little over the dedication 
 to Rogers. " I learn by to-day s paper," he wrote, 
 " that the English edition of your poems has made 
 its appearance with a dedication to Rogers by 
 Irving. Samuel Rogers ! never mind, dear sir, it* 
 will help to favor." 
 
 Rogers was not a great poet, but lie was by no 
 means an inferior critic, nor was there any poet in 
 England in his time who did not value and desire 
 
THE POET. 123 
 
 his protection. He had the sagacity to discern, and 
 the magnanimity to recognize everywhere and on 
 all occasions, the merit of Bryant s poetry, and 
 when Bryant called upon him later in London, he 
 neglected no means of testifying his admiration and 
 respect both for the poet and the man. It is inter 
 esting to those who knew Bryant s shyness and his 
 undemonstrative ways with a new acquaintance to 
 see how rapidly he entered into relations of affec 
 tionate intimacy with this venerable cynic, some 
 evidences of which are disclosed in the following 
 extract from an article which he allowed himself to 
 write and print in the " Evening Post " on receiv 
 ing the news of Rogers s death. 
 
 " The death of the poet Rogers," he said, " seems 
 almost like the extinction of an institution. The 
 world by his departure has one object the less of in 
 terest and reverence. The elegant hospitality which 
 he dispensed for nearly three quarters of a century, 
 and in which Americans had a large share, is 
 brought to an end, and a vacuity is created which 
 no Englishman can supply. Rogers loved to speak 
 of his relations with Americans. Three American 
 Presidents, he used to say, have been entertained 
 under my roof; l and then he would enumerate, in 
 his succinct way, the illustrious men, founders of 
 our republic, or eminent in its later history, who 
 had been his guests. He claimed an hereditary 
 interest in our country. On the news of the 
 battle of Lexington, his father put on mourning. 
 
 1 Probably John Quincy Adams, Fillraore, and Van Buren. 
 
124 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 4 Have you lost a friend ? somebody asked him 
 who saw this indication of sorrow. I have lost 
 a great many, was the answer ; 4 my friends in New 
 England. 
 
 " Rogers s breakfasts were the pleasantest social 
 meetings that can be conceived of. There you 
 met persons of every variety of intellectual and 
 social distinction, eminent men and attractive wo 
 men, wits, orators, dramatists, travelers, artists, 
 persons remarkable for their powers of conversa 
 tion, all of whom found themselves on the easiest 
 terms with their venerable host, whose noon of life 
 was reached in the last century. Even bores, in 
 his society, which discouraged all tediousness, and 
 in the respect which his presence inspired, seemed 
 to lose their usual character, and to fall involun 
 tarily into the lively and graceful flow of conversa 
 tion of which he gave the example. 
 
 " The following little incident will show with how 
 good a grace he could welcome a stranger to his 
 hospitable dwelling. On one occasion he met an 
 American for the first time 1 at a literary break 
 fast at the table of Mr. Everett, who, while abroad, 
 was never wanting in obliging and friendly atten 
 tions to his countrymen. 4 Where are you lodging ? 
 he asked of the American. 4 In St. James s Place, 
 was the answer. Come with me, said Mr. Rogers, 
 and I will show you the nearest way to St. James s 
 Place. He took his new acquaintance into that 
 part of London which is sometimes called Bel- 
 
 1 This was Mr. Bryant himself. 
 
THE POET. 125 
 
 gravia, and pointed out to him the stately rows of 
 spacious mansions lately erected to embellish the 
 great capital of England ; then passing through 
 the Park of St. James, fresh in the beauty of 
 early June, he arrived at the gate of a small 
 garden. Taking a key from his pocket, he opened 
 the gate, and, following a little walk among shrub 
 bery and trees, on which innumerable sparrows 
 were chirping, he entered a house by the back 
 door, and introduced the American to his own 
 home. After he had given him a little time to 
 observe the objects of art which it contained, he 
 dismissed him by the front door, which opened into 
 St. James s Place. You see, he said, that I 
 have brought you by the nearest way to St. James s 
 Place. Remember the house, and come to break 
 fast with me to-morrow morning. 
 
 " The mention of sparrows in his garden reminds 
 us of an anecdote of which they were the subject. 
 4 1 once used to feed sparrows, said Mr. Rogers ; 
 4 but one day, when I was throwing them some 
 crumbs for their breakfast, a gentleman said to me : 
 " Do you see those birds on the tree yonder, how 
 they keep aloof, and do not venture down, while 
 those on the ground are feasting at their leisure ? 
 Those yonder are the females ; these which you 
 are feeding are the gentlemen sparrows ; they keep 
 their mates at a distance." Since that day I have 
 fed sparrows no more. 
 
 " Rogers began his poetical career early. One 
 of his acquaintances was speaking of the little 
 
126 WILL] AM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 well-known song of his, familiar to our grandmo 
 thers : 
 
 " Dear is my little native vale : 
 
 The ring-dove builds and warbles there ; 
 
 Close by my cot she tells her tale, 
 To every passing villager. 
 
 The squirrel leaps from tree to tree, 
 
 And shells his nuts at liberty. 
 
 " I wrote that song at sixteen years of age/ 
 said Mr. Rogers. Yet, though the production of 
 an immature age, it has all the better characteris 
 tics of his later poetry, and it shows how remarka 
 bly early they were acquired. In his k Pleasures of 
 Memory, very elaborately composed, he adopted 
 the carefully measured versification in fashion at 
 the time it appeared, with its unvaried periods, 
 its antithetic turns, and its voluntary renunciation 
 of the power of proportioning the expression to the 
 thought. In his 4 Human Life, a later and finer 
 poem, he shows that his taste had changed with 
 the taste of the age ; he broke loose from the old 
 fetters, indulging in a freer modulation of num 
 bers, though not parting with any of their har 
 mony and sweetness, and studying a more vigorous 
 and direct phraseology. Human Life is the best 
 of his longer poems, and that in which his genius 
 is seen to best advantage. It deals with life in its 
 gentler and less stormy moods, whether of pleasure 
 or of sadness, the sunshine and the shadows of 
 common life. The poem is of a kind by which a 
 large class of readers is interested, and contains 
 passages which once read are often recurred to, 
 and keep their place in the memory. 
 
THE POET. 127 
 
 " The illustrated edition of his poems is the only 
 work of the kind with which we are perfectly satis 
 fied. To illustrate adequately by the pencil the 
 writings of an eminent poet is one of the most dif 
 ficult undertakings- in the world. The fine taste of 
 Kogers in the arts and his intimacy with the great 
 est artists of his country gave him a great advan 
 tage in this respect ; and we have heard that the 
 designs which embellish that edition of his works 
 were selected from a much larger number made 
 for that purpose. 
 
 " In approaching the close of a life so much pro 
 longed beyond the usual lot of man, a life the 
 years of which circumscribed the activity of three 
 generations, he contemplated his departure with 
 the utmost serenity. The state of man after 
 death he called the great subject, and calmly 
 awaited the moment when he should be admitted 
 to contemplate its mysteries. I have found life 
 in this world, he used to say, a happy state ; the 
 goodness of God has taken care that none of its 
 functions, even the most inconsiderable, should be 
 performed without sensible pleasure ; and I am 
 confident that in the world to come the same care 
 for my happiness will accompany me. 
 
 " Mr. Rogers was of low stature, neither slightly 
 nor sturdily proportioned ; his face was rather full 
 and broad than otherwise, and his complexion col 
 orless. He always wore a frock-coat. I will not 
 go to court, he used to say, 4 and for one reason 
 among others, that I will not wear any other coat 
 
128 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 than this. The other day, he once added, 4 1 
 sent my clothes to the palace, and a man in them. 
 The man whom he meant was Wordsworth, who 
 came to London as the gnest of Rogers, in order 
 to attend court at the bidding of the Queen, and 
 to make his acknowledgments for the post of lau 
 reate, which had been bestowed on him. On that 
 occasion he wore the court suit of Mr. Rogers, 
 whose guest he was. 
 
 " In conversation, Mr. Rogers was one of the 
 most agreeable and interesting of men ; he was re 
 markable for a certain graceful laconism, a neat 
 ness and power of selection in telling a story or 
 expressing a thought, with its accessories, which 
 were the envy of the best talkers of his time. His 
 articulation was distinct, just deliberate enough to 
 be listened to with pleasure, and during the last 
 ten to twelve years of his life slightly and but 
 very slightly marked with the tremulousness of 
 old age. 
 
 " His ordinary manner was kind and paternal ; 
 he delighted to relate anecdotes illustrative of the 
 power of the affections, which he did with great 
 feeling. On occasion, however, he could say caus 
 tic things ; and a few examples of this kind, which 
 were so epigrammatic as to be entertaining in their 
 repetition, have given rise to the mistake that they 
 were frequent in his conversation. His behavior 
 to the other sex was uncommonly engaging. He 
 was on friendly terms with his eminent literary 
 brethren, though they were enemies to each other ; 
 
THE POET. 129 
 
 and, notwithstanding that his political opinions 
 were those of the liberal school, his intimacies 
 knew no party distinctions, and included men of 
 the opposite sect." 
 
 The alterations in one of Bryant s poems which 
 Irving had allowed himself to make before they 
 were published had results which threatened for a 
 time to prove most unfortunate. Mr. Leggett, who 
 had just established the " Plaindealer," and who 
 was justly incensed by a practice more or less pre 
 valent among American publishers of mutilating 
 foreign works which they were reprinting, by ex 
 punging passages likely to prove offensive to slave 
 owners, went quite out of his way to charge Irving 
 with " literary pusillanimity " for changing in the 
 " Song of Marion s Men " the line 
 
 And the British f oeman trembles 
 
 into 
 
 " The f oeman trembles in his camp." 
 
 This article naturally provoked Irving, who had 
 recently returned from Madrid, and one of the 
 results was a letter to the editor of the " Plain- 
 dealer," which I here give entire, as it is now to 
 be found, I believe, only in the journals of that pe 
 riod, where it is no longer readily accessible. 
 To THE EDITOR OF THE PLAITSTDEALER. 
 
 SIR, Living at present in the country and out of 
 the way of the current literature of the day, it was not 
 until this morning that I saw your paper of the 14th of 
 January, or knew anything of your animadversions on 
 my conduct and character therein contained. Though 
 
130 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 I have generally abstained from noticing any attack 
 upon myself in the public papers, the present is one 
 which I cannot suffer to pass in silence. 
 
 In the first place you have censured me strongly for 
 having altered a paragraph in the London edition of Mr. 
 Bryant s poems ; and the remarks and comparisons in 
 which you have indulged on the occasion would seem to 
 imply that I have a literary hostility to Mr. Bryant and 
 a disposition to detract from the measure of his well- 
 merited reputation. 
 
 The relation in which you stand to that gentleman, 
 as his particular friend and literary associate, gives 
 these animadversions the greater weight, and calls for a 
 real statement of the case. 
 
 When I was last in London (I think in 1832), I 
 received a copy of the American edition of Mr. Bryant s 
 poems from some friend (I now forget from whom), 
 who expressed a wish that it might be republished in 
 England. I had not at that time the pleasure of a 
 personal acquaintance with Mr. Bryant, but I felt the 
 same admiration for his poems that you have expressed, 
 and was desirous that writings so honorable to Ameri 
 can literature should be known to the British public, and 
 take their merited rank in the literature of the language. 
 I exerted myself, therefore, to get them republished by 
 some London bookseller, but met with unexpected diffi 
 culties, poetry being declared quite unsalable since the 
 death of Lord Byron. At length a bookseller was in 
 duced to undertake an edition by my engaging gratui 
 tously to edit the work, and to write something that 
 might call public attention to it. I accordingly prefixed 
 to the volume a dedicatory letter addressed to Mr. Sam 
 uel Rogers, in which, while I expressed my own opinion 
 
THE POET. 131 
 
 of the poems, I took occasion to allude to the still more 
 valuable approbation which I had heard expressed by 
 that distinguished author, thus bringing the work before 
 the British public with the high sanction of one of the 
 most refined critics of the day. While the work was 
 going through the press, an objection was started to the 
 passage in the poem of " Marion s Men " 
 
 " And the Britisli foeman trembles 
 When Marion s name is heard." 
 
 It was considered as peculiarly calculated to shock 
 the feelings of British readers on the most sensitive 
 point, seeming to call in question the courage of the na 
 tion. It was urged that common decorum required the 
 softening of such a passage in an edition exclusively in 
 tended for the British public ; and I was asked what 
 would be the feelings of American readers if such an 
 imputation on the courage of their countrymen were in 
 serted in a work presented for their approbation. These 
 objections were urged in a spirit of friendship to Mr. 
 Bryant, and with a view to his success, for it was sug 
 gested that this passage might be felt as a taunt of bra 
 vado, and might awaken a prejudice against the work 
 before its merits could be appreciated. 
 
 I doubt whether these objections would have oc 
 curred to me had they not been thus set forth, but when 
 thus urged I yielded to them, and softened the passage 
 in question by omitting the adjective British, and sub 
 stituting one of a more general signification. If this 
 evinced " timidity of spirit," it was a timidity felt en 
 tirely on behalf of Mr. Bryant. I was not to be harmed 
 by the insertion of the paragraph as it originally stood. 
 I freely confess, however, that I have at all times al 
 most as strong a repugnance to tell a painful or humil- 
 
132 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 iating truth, unnecessarily, as I have to tell an untruth 
 under any circumstances. To speak the truth on all 
 occasions is the indispensable attribute of man ; to re 
 frain from uttering disagreeable truths, unnecessarily, 
 belongs, I think, to the character of a gentleman ; nei 
 ther, sir, do I think it incompatible with fair dealing, 
 however little it may square with your notions of plain- 
 dealing. 
 
 The foregoing statement will show how I stand with 
 regard to Mr. Bryant. I trust his fame has suffered 
 nothing by my republication of his works in London ; 
 at any rate, he has expressed his thanks to me by letter, 
 since my return to this country. I was therefore, I 
 confess, but little prepared to receive a stab from his 
 bosom friend. 
 
 Another part of your animadversions is of a much 
 graver nature, for it implies a charge of hypocrisy and 
 double dealing which I indignantly repel as incompatible 
 with my nature. You intimate that " in publishing a 
 book of my own, I prepare one preface for my country 
 men full of amor patrice and professions of home feel 
 ing, and another for the London market in which such 
 professions are studiously omitted." Your inference is 
 that these professions are hollow, and intended to gain 
 favor with my countrymen, and that they are omitted in 
 the London edition through fear of offending English 
 readers. Were I indeed chargeable with such baseness, 
 I should well merit the contempt you invoke upon my 
 head. As I give you credit, sir, for probity, I was at a 
 loss to think on what you could ground such an imputa 
 tion, until it occurred to me that some circumstances 
 attending the publication of my " Tour on the Prairies " 
 might have given rise to a misconception in your mind. 
 
THE POET. 133 
 
 It may seem strange to those intimately acquainted 
 with my character that I should think it necessary to 
 defend myself from a charge of duplicity, hut as many 
 of your readers may know me as little as you appear to 
 do, I must again be excused in a detail of fact. 
 
 When my " Tour on the Prairies " was ready for 
 the press, I sent a manuscript copy to England for pub 
 lication, and at the same time p ut a copy in the press at 
 New York. As this was my first appearance before the 
 American public since my return, I was induced while 
 the work was printing to modify the introduction so as 
 to express my sense of the unexpected warmth with 
 which I had been welcomed to my native place, and my 
 general feelings on finding myself once more at home, 
 and ainon^ my friends. These feelings, sir, were gen 
 uine, and were not expressed with half the warmth with 
 which they were entertained. Circumstances alluded. to 
 in that introduction had made the reception I met with 
 from my countrymen doubly dear and touching to me, 
 and had filled my heart with affectionate gratitude for 
 their unlooked-for kindness. In fact, misconstructions 
 of my conduct and misconceptions of my character, 
 somewhat similar to those I am at present endeavoring 
 to rebut, had appeared in the public press, and as I er 
 roneously supposed, had prejudiced the mind of my 
 countrymen against me. The professions, therefore, to 
 which you have alluded were uttered, not to obviate 
 such prejudices, or to win my way to the good will of 
 my countrymen, but to express my feelings after their 
 good will had been unequivocally manifested. While I 
 thought they doubted me, I remained silent ; when I 
 found they believed in me, I spoke. I have never been 
 in the habit of beguiling them by fulsome professions of 
 
134 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 patriotism, those cheap passports to public favor ; and I 
 think I might for once have been indulged in briefly 
 touching a chord, on which others have harped to so 
 much advantage. 
 
 Now, sir, even granting I had * studiously omitted " 
 all those professions in the introduction intended for the 
 London market, instead of giving utterance to them 
 after that article had been sent off, where, I would ask, 
 would have been the impropriety of the act ? What 
 had the British public to do with those home greetings 
 and those assurances of gratitude and affection which 
 related exclusively to my countrymen, and .grew out of 
 my actual position with regard to them ? There was 
 nothing in them at which the British reader could pos 
 sibly take offense ; the omitting of them, therefore, 
 could not have argued "timidity," but would have been 
 merely a matter of good taste ; for they would have 
 been as much out of place repeated to English readers, 
 as would have been my greetings and salutations to my 
 family circle, if repeated out of the window for the ben 
 efit of the passers-by in the street. 
 
 I have no intention, sir, of imputing to you any 
 malevolent feeling in the unlooked-for attack you have 
 made upon me : I can see no motive you have for such 
 hostility. I rather think you have acted from honest 
 feelings, hastily excited by a misapprehension of facts ; 
 and that you have been a little too eager to give an in 
 stance of that " plaindealing " which you have recently 
 adopted as your war-cry. Plaindealing, sir, is a great 
 merit, when accompanied by magnanimity, and exer 
 cised with a just and generous spirit ; but if pushed too 
 far, and made the excuse for indulging every impulse of 
 passion or prejudice, it may render a man, especially in 
 
THE POET. 135 
 
 your situation, a very offensive, if not a very mischiev 
 ous member of the community. Such I sincerely hope 
 and trust may not be your case ; but this hint, given 
 in a spirit of caution, not of accusation, may not be of 
 disservice to you. 
 
 In the present instance I have only to ask that you 
 will give this article an insertion in your paper, being 
 intended not so much for yourself, as for those of your 
 readers who may have been prejudiced against me by 
 your animadversions. Your editorial position, of course, 
 gives you an opportunity of commenting upon it accord 
 ing to the current of your feelings ; and whatever may 
 be your comments, it is not probable that they will draw 
 any further reply from me. Recrimination is a miser 
 able kind of redress in which I never indulge, and I 
 have no relish for the warfare of the pen. 
 
 Very respectfully your obedient servant, 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 In submitting this letter to his readers, Mr. Leg- 
 gett, while modifying in no degree the opinion he 
 had expressed of what he deemed the liberty 
 Irving had taken with Bryant s verse, took pains 
 to relieve Bryant from all responsibility for what 
 he had written about it. 
 
 "It is proper/* he began his comments, "that we 
 should exonerate Mr. Bryant from any lot or part, di 
 rectly or indirectly, in the remarks we made concerning 
 what seemed to us (and we must be pardoned for saying 
 what still seems to us) a piece of literary pusillanimity 
 on the part of Mr. Irving. Whether our censure was 
 called for or not, and whether well founded or not, 
 we alone are responsible for having uttered it. Mr. 
 
136 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 Bryant s first knowledge of the article, like Mr. Irving s, 
 was derived from a perusal of the published Plain- 
 dealer, placed in his hands in the regular course of dis 
 tribution to subscribers. Nay, more, to disabuse not 
 only Mr. Irving s mind, but the minds of those whom the 
 phraseology of his communication in certain parts may 
 mislead, candor requires us to state that, on various oc 
 casions, we have heard Mr. Bryant express the kindest 
 sentiments towards Mr. Irving for the interest he took 
 in the publication of a London edition of his poems, and 
 for the complimentary terms in which he introduced 
 them to the British public." 
 
 Not content with Leggett s declaration of his 
 innocence of any responsibility for the strictures 
 of the " Plaindealer," and a little moved by what 
 seemed to him a slightly skeptical tone on this 
 point in Irving s letter, Bryant sent to the " Plain- 
 dealer " the following : 
 
 44 To THE EDITOR OF THE PLAINDEALER. 
 
 " SIR, I read in your paper of the 28th of 
 January a letter from Mr. Irving, partly in answer 
 to a censure passed in a previous number upon an 
 alteration made by him in the London edition of 
 my poems. I was much surprised to find that he 
 chose to consider me as in some degree answerable 
 for your animadversions. Disliking as I do to 
 speak of my private affairs in print, I was glad to 
 see that you fully replied to his suspicions by de 
 claring them utterly groundless. I find, however, 
 that many of the friends of that distinguished au 
 thor are still determined to make me, in some way 
 
THE POET. 137 
 
 or other, the instigator of an attack upon him, in 
 return for the kindness he had shown in recom 
 mending my volume to the British public. I must, 
 therefore, beg you to print this communication. 
 
 " Let me quote in the first place those passages 
 in Mr. Irving s letter which have led me to ask of 
 you this favor. Near the beginning he says, allud 
 ing to your animadversions and to me : 
 
 " c The relation in which you stand to that 
 gentleman as his particular friend and literary 
 associate gives these animadversions the greater 
 weight, and calls for a real statement of the case. 
 
 " And again : 
 
 " 4 The foregoing statement will show how I stand 
 with regard to Mr. Bryant. I trust his fame has 
 suffered nothing by my republication of his works 
 in London ; at any rate, he has expressed his 
 thanks to me by letter since my return to this 
 country. I was therefore, I confess, but little pre 
 pared to receive a stab from his bosom friend/ 
 
 " I cannot refrain from again expressing my 
 surprise that with the proof of my real feelings in 
 his hands, contained in the letter of which he 
 speaks, Mr. Irving should have found it possible 
 to connect me in any manner with the animadver 
 sions to which he alludes. 
 
 " I must, then, declare briefly that I highly ap 
 preciated the generosity of Mr. Irving in bringing 
 my work before the British public with the great 
 advantage of his commendation, and that although 
 I should not have made the alteration in question, 
 
138 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 I had no doubt that it was made with the kindest 
 intentions, and never complained of it to anybody. 
 If I had been disposed to complain of it privately, 
 it would have been to himself ; if publicly, it would 
 have been under my own name ; nor can I compre 
 hend the disingenuous and pusillanimous malignity 
 which would have led me to procure another to 
 attack in public what I had not even ventured to 
 blame in private. 
 
 " It is perhaps best that I should leave the mat 
 ter here ; merely remarking, in conclusion, that 
 they who are acquainted with the literary as well 
 as the political course of the Plaindealer know 
 very well that its editor is not accustomed to shape 
 his censures or his praises according to the opin 
 ions or the desires of others. 
 
 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 " NEW YORK, February 6, 1837." 
 
 The following rejoinder from Irving, which ap 
 peared in the " New York American," closed the 
 discussion. Bryant has told us that his explana 
 tion " was graciously accepted, and in a brief note 
 in the Plaindealer Irving pronounced my ac 
 quittal." It is more difficult for us even now to 
 acquit Mr. Leggett for his part in provoking this 
 correspondence : 
 
 To WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, ESQ. 
 
 SIB, It was not until this moment that I saw your 
 letter in the " Plaindealer " of Saturday last. I cannot 
 express to you how much it has shocked and grieved 
 me. Not having read any of the comments of the editor 
 
THE POET. 139 
 
 of the " Plaindealer " on the letter which I addressed to 
 him, and being in the country, out of the way of hearing 
 the comments of others, I was totally ignorant of the 
 construction put upon the passages of that letter which 
 you have cited. Whatever construction these passages 
 may be susceptible of, I do assure you, sir, I never sup 
 posed, nor had the remotest intention to insinuate that 
 you had the least participation in the attack recently 
 made upon my character by the editor of the above 
 mentioned paper, or that you entertained feelings which 
 could in any degree be gratified by such an attack. 
 Had I thought you chargeable with such hostility I 
 should have made the charge directly and explicitly, 
 and not by innuendo. 
 
 The little opportunity that I have had, sir, of judg 
 ing of your private character, has only tended to con 
 firm the opinion I had formed of you from your poetic 
 writings, which breathe a spirit too pure, amiable, and 
 elevated to permit me for a moment to think you 
 capable of anything ungenerous or unjust. 
 
 As to the alteration of a word in the London edition 
 of your poems, which others have sought to nurture into 
 a root of bitterness between us, I have already stated 
 my motives for it, and the embarrassment in which I 
 was placed. I regret extremely that it should not have 
 met with your approbation, and sincerely apologize to 
 you for the liberty I was persuaded to take : a liberty, I 
 freely acknowledge, the least excusable with writings 
 like yours, in which it is difficult to alter a word without 
 marring a beauty. 
 
 Believe me, sir, with perfect respect and esteem, 
 Very truly yours, WASHINGTON 
 
 THURSDAY MORNING, February Wth. 
 
140 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 Of Bryant s rank and merits as a poet there is, 
 and for some time to come is likely to be, a great 
 diversity of opinion. A partial explanation of this 
 may be found in the fact that the most enduring 
 qualities of his verse are readily appreciated by 
 only a comparatively restricted class even of those 
 who read poetry. He was essentially an ethical 
 poet. His inspiration was always from above. In 
 the flower, in the stream, in the tempest, in the 
 rainbow, in the snow, in everything about him, 
 nature was always telling him something new of 
 the goodness of God and framing excuses for the 
 frail and the erring. His verses are the record of 
 these lessons as far as he apprehended and could 
 express them. The number who comprehend the 
 full force of them at a single reading, however, is 
 comparatively small. Every one of his verses will 
 bear the supreme test of a work of literary art, 
 which discloses a wider horizon and new merits at 
 each successive perusal. 
 
 Bryant s whole life was a struggle, and a mar- 
 velously successful struggle, with the infirmities of 
 the natural man. In his work, whether as journal 
 ist or poet, the moral elevation of himself and of 
 his fellow - creatures was the warp of whatever 
 theme might be the woof. But the ethical nature 
 is always operating upon two parallel but quite 
 separate lines. It is critical and denunciatory when 
 dealing with error and wrong-doing ; it is hopeful, 
 joyous, and strengthening when it deals with the 
 virtues and their triumphs. Bryant confined the 
 
THE POET. 141 
 
 exercise of the critical function of the moralist 
 mainly to his newspaper ; in his verse he sang the 
 beauty and joys of holiness. As a journalist, he 
 was prone to dwell upon wrongs to be repaired, 
 upon evils to be reformed, upon public offenders 
 to be punished. But when he donned his sing 
 ing robes and retired from the clash and din of 
 worldly strife, he went up into a mountain and 
 sat, and angels ministered unto him ; everything 
 around him seemed eloquent of hope and cheer, of 
 faith and love. The sight of the new moon brings 
 
 " Thoughts of all fair and youthful things 
 
 The hopes of early years ; 
 And childhood s purity and grace, 
 And joys that like a rainbow chase 
 The passing shower of tears. 
 
 " The captive yields him to the dream 
 Of freedom, when that virgin beam 
 
 Comes out upon the air ; 
 And painfully the sick man tries 
 To fix his dim and burning eyes 
 On the sweet promise there. 
 
 "Most welcome to the lovers sight 
 Glitters that pure, emerging light ; 
 
 For prattling poets say, 
 That sweetest is the lovers walk, 
 And tenderest is their murmured talk, 
 
 Beneath its gentle ray. 
 
 "And there do graver men behold 
 A type of errors, loved of old, 
 
 Forsaken and forgiven ; 
 And thoughts and wishes not of earth 
 
142 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 Just opening- in their early birth, 
 Like that new light in heaven." 
 
 The waning moon has its lesson also : 
 
 " In thy decaying beam there lies 
 
 Full many a grave on hill and plain 
 Of those who closed their dying eyes 
 In grief that they had lived in vain. 
 
 " Another night and thou among 
 
 The spheres of heaven shall cease to shine ; 
 All rayless in the glittering throng 
 
 Whose lustre late was quenched in thine. 
 
 "Yet soon a new and tender light 
 
 From out thy darkened orb shall beam, 
 And broaden till it shines all night 
 
 On glistening dew, and glimmering stream." 
 
 In the winds he finds a lesson which he com 
 mends with exquisite grace to the impatient re 
 formers of society. 
 
 " Yet oh, when that wronged Spirit of our race 
 
 Shall break, as soon he must, his long-worn chains 
 And leap in freedom from his prison-place, 
 
 Lord of his ancient hills and fruitful plains, 
 Let him not rise, like these mad winds of air, 
 To waste the loveliness that time could spare, 
 To fill the earth with woe, and blot her fair 
 
 Unconscious breast with blood from human veins. 
 
 "But may he like the spring-time come abroad, 
 
 Who crumbles winter s gyves with gentle might 
 When in the genial breeze, the breath of God, 
 
 The unsealed springs come spouting up to light ; 
 Flowers start from their dark prisons at his feet, 
 The woods, long dumb, awake to hymnings sweet, 
 And morn and eve, whose glimmerings almost meet, 
 Crowd back to narrow bounds the ancient night." 
 
THE POET. 143 
 
 In the North Star he finds 
 
 " A beauteous type of that unchanging good, 
 That bright eternal beacon, by whose ray 
 The voyager of time should shape his heedful way." 
 
 March, the most abused of all the months in the 
 calendar, has a good word from Bryant. 
 
 " The year s departing beauty hides, 
 
 Of wintry storms the sullen threat ; 
 But in thy sternest frown abides 
 A look of kindly promise yet. 
 
 "Thou bring st the hope of those calm skies, 
 
 And that soft time of sunny showers 
 
 When the wide bloom on earth that lies, 
 
 Seems of a brighter world than ours." 
 
 In the beautiful boundless " firmament " he 
 finds a charm 
 
 " That earth, the proud green earth, has not, 
 With all the forms, and hues, and airs, 
 
 That haunt her sweetest spot. 
 We gaze upon thy calm pure sphere, 
 
 And read of Heaven s eternal year. 
 
 " Oh, when amid the throng of men, 
 
 The heart grows sick of hollow mirth, 
 
 How willingly we turn us then 
 Away from this cold earth, 
 
 And look into thy azure breast. 
 
 For seats of innocence and rest ! " 
 
 The " Fringed Gentian " preaches to him of 
 Hope and Immortality. 
 
 " Thou comest not when violets lean 
 O er wandering brooks and springs unseen, 
 Or columbines, in purple dressed. 
 Nod o er the ground-bird s hidden nest. 
 
144 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 " Thou waitest late and com st alone, 
 When woods are bare and birds are flown, 
 And frosts and shortening- days portend 
 The aged year is near his end. 
 
 " Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye 
 Look through its fringes to the sky, 
 Blue blue as if that sky let fall 
 A flower from its cerulean wall. 
 
 " I would that thus, when I shall see 
 The hour of death draw near to me, 
 Hope, blossoming within my heart, 
 May look to heaven as I depart." 
 
 The river teaches him the processes of moral 
 purification : 
 
 " Oh, glide away from those abodes that bring 
 Pollution to thy channel and make foul 
 Thy once clear current ; summon thy quick waves 
 And dimpling eddies ; linger not, but haste, 
 With all thy waters, haste thee to the deep, 
 There to be tossed by shifting winds and rocked 
 By that mysterious force which lives within 
 The sea s immensity, and wields the weight 
 Of its abysses, swaying to and fro 
 The billowy mass, until the stain, at length, 
 Shall wholly pass away, and thou regain 
 The crystal brightness of thy mountain-spring." 
 
 To those who mourn the supposed degeneracy 
 of their time he says : 
 
 ..." Despair not of their fate who rise 
 To dwell upon the earth when we withdraw. 
 
 " Oh no ! a thousand cheerful omens give 
 Hope of yet happier days whose dawn is nigh. 
 
 He who has tamed the elements, shall not live 
 The slave of his own passions ; he whose eye 
 
THE POET. 145 
 
 Unwinds the eternal dances of the sky, 
 And in the abyss of brightness dares to span 
 The sun s broad circle, rising- yet more high, 
 In God s magnificent works his will shall scan 
 And love and peace shall make their paradise with man." 
 
 Even natural death to him in his poetic mood 
 had its sunny aspects. Instead of treating it as a 
 penal institution only to be dreaded, the thoughts 
 of which " come like a blight " over the spirit, 
 
 ..." and sad images 
 Of the stern agony, and shroud and pall, 
 And breathless darkness and the narrow house, 
 Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart," 
 
 he treats it as " a ministry of life," a change as 
 natural, as inevitable, and as beneficent as the 
 changes of the seasons, as the change from infancy 
 to maturity, from hunger to satiety, from sleeping 
 to waking, and from waking to sleeping; as no 
 more the penalty of sin than it is the penalty of 
 virtue ; a change which the good are just as certain 
 to experience as the wicked, the rich as the poor, 
 the noble as the peasant. And therefore when 
 the summons comes for us to take our 
 
 " Chamber in the silent halls of death," 
 we should obey it, not 
 
 " Like the quarry slave at night 
 Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed 
 By an unfaltering trust, . . . 
 Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
 About him and lies down to pleasant dreams." 
 
 There are none who will gainsay any of the 
 great truths which Nature was ever teaching this 
 most faithful and devout of her disciples, but the 
 
146 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 number of those who comprehend them is compara 
 tively limited. "Every one that is of the truth 
 heareth his voice." But alas ! how many of us are 
 still like Pilate, asking " What is truth ? " To such 
 and they unhappily constitute the great body 
 of what are commonly denominated " the readin^ 
 public " the poetry of the passions and the ap 
 petites, the poetry which derives its inspiration 
 largely from our sensuous nature, from the lusts of 
 the flesh, the lusts of the eye, and the pride of 
 life, is the most attractive, and therefore most es 
 teemed. But if, as Bryant taught and believed, 
 the world s moral standards are steadilv rising 
 
 J ft" 
 
 and the supersensuous is gaining upon the sensu 
 ous life, or what Paul calls " the rudiments of the 
 world ; " if our affections are being gradually lifted 
 up from the verdure of the field which to-day is and 
 to-morrow is cast into the oven, to the hand that 
 clothes the field with this verdure, Bryant s poems 
 must grow in popular favor and take a rank in the 
 world s esteem which is reserved for no consider 
 able proportion of English verse, justifying the 
 prediction of his friend Halleck : 
 
 " Spring s lovelier flowers for many a day 
 
 Have blossomed on his wandering 1 way ; 
 
 Beings of beauty and decay 
 
 They slumber in their autumn tomb ; 
 
 But those that graced his own Green River 
 And wreathed the lattice of his home, 
 Charmed by his song from mortal doom 
 
 Bloom on and will bloom on forever." 1 
 
 1 It may interest the readers of these pages to be reminded of 
 
THE POET. 147 
 
 What has been said will serve to explain the 
 fact that Bryant was not the poet of " occasions." 
 
 what has been said of the rank and superior " staying- power " of 
 ethical poetry by an eminent poet whose genius gives great weight 
 to his opinion, whatever may be thought of his example. 
 
 Byron, in the course of his once famous letter to the Rev. Mr. 
 Bowles in defense of Pope, wrote : 
 
 " In my mind the highest of all poetry is ethical poetry, as the 
 highest of all earthly objects must be moral truth. Religion 
 does not make a part of my subject ; it is something beyond 
 human powers, and has failed in all human hands except Milton s 
 and Dante s, and even Dante s powers are involved in his delin 
 eation of human passions, though in supernatural circumstances. 
 What made Socrates the greatest of men ? His moral truth 
 his ethics. What proved Jesus Christ the Son of God hardly 
 less than his miracles ? His moral precepts. And if ethics have 
 made a philosopher the first of men, and have not been disdained 
 as an adjunct to his gospel by the Deity himself, are we to be 
 told that ethical poetry, or didactic poetry, or by whatever name 
 you term it whose object is to make men better and wiser, is not 
 the very first order of poetry, and are we to be told this, too, 
 by one of the priesthood ? It requires more mind, more wisdom, 
 more power, than all the forests that ever were walked 
 for their description and all the epics that ever were founded 
 upon fields of battle. The Georgics are indisputably and, I 
 believe, undisputedly even a finer poem than the ^Eneid. Virgil 
 knew this. He did not order them to be burnt. 
 
 The proper study of mankind is man. It is the fashion of the 
 day to lay great stress upon what they call imagination and 
 invention, the two commonest of qualities : an Irish peasant 
 with a little whiskey in his head will imagine and invent more 
 than would furnish forth a modern poem. If Lucretius had not 
 been spoiled by the Epicurean system, we should have had a far 
 superior poem, to any now in existence. As mere poetry it is the 
 first of Latin poems. What, then, had ruined it ? His ethics. 
 Pope has not this defect. His moral is as pure as his poetry is 
 glorious. ... It any great natural or national convulsion could 
 or should overwhelm your country in such sort as to sweep Great 
 Britain from the kingdoms of the earth and leave only that, after 
 
148 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 His muse was never prostituted to the service of 
 his own or any public vanity or passion. When lie 
 put on his singing robes there was always some 
 thing more or less pontifical in the rites that were 
 to be celebrated. The spirit of poesy descended 
 upon him only upon the Sabbaths of his soul. He 
 seemed to lay aside for the time all worldly con 
 siderations, and to hold communion with the spirits 
 of the just made perfect. If he took an occasion 
 or a name for his theme, it must be one standing 
 in universal and everlasting relations with human 
 ity. He was, of course, constantly appealed to, to 
 lend dignity to events of transient interest and 
 local importance, and his ingenuity was constantly 
 taxed to provide excuses for declining to become 
 the poetical interpreter of fleeting popular emo 
 tions. 
 
 In a letter to Mr. Charles Sedgwick in 1865, 
 he said : 
 
 " It is riot my intention to deliver a poem at 
 Williams College, or anywhere else. I once deliv 
 ered a Phi Beta Kappa poem at Cambridge, and that 
 
 all, the most living of human things, a dead language, to be studied 
 and read and imitated by the wise of future and far generations, 
 upon foreign shores ; if your literature should become the learning 
 of mankind, divested of party cabals, temporary fashions, and na 
 tional pride and prejudice, an Englishman anxious that the pos 
 terity should know that there had been such a thing as a British 
 Epic and Tragedy, might wish for the preservation of Shake 
 speare and Milton ; but the surviving world would snatch Pope 
 from the wreck and let the rest sink with the people. He is the 
 moral poet of all civilization ; and as such let us hope that he 
 will one day be the national poet of mankind." 
 
THE POET. 149 
 
 was forty-four years ago, but since that time I have 
 uniformly declined all requests to do the like, and I 
 get several every year. It is an undertaking for 
 young men. If I could be put back to twenty-six 
 years and my wife with me, I might do it again ; 
 youth is the season for such imprudence. I should 
 never be able to satisfy myself in the composition of 
 a poem on such an occasion ; and then it should be an 
 exceedingly clever thing, not a work for the 
 closet, though ; and admirably read read as you 
 would read it, and as few can, not to bore the audi 
 ence. You have observed that such poems, with 
 few, very few exceptions, are unspeakably tiresome. * 
 Writing to his brother John in 1 874, he says : 
 " The poem you speak of I suppose you hardly 
 expected me to compose. Such things as occa 
 sional poems I have for many years left to younger 
 men ; besides which there is nothing more tire 
 some and flat than a poem read at a public cele 
 bration of any event ; nothing more unintelligible, 
 unless the poem be read with exceeding skill, and 
 the better the poem is, the less, as a general rule, 
 it is understood by a promiscuous assembly. The 
 only use of verses on such occasions is when they 
 take the shape of a short ode and are sung." 
 
 It was not, I think, merely a distaste, strong as it 
 was, for this kind of work, but a well-grounded 
 distrust of his ability to succeed in it, which in 
 many if not most of these cases controlled his de 
 cision. It seems as though his muse could only 
 breathe in the Empyrean. It would have stifled 
 
l. r )0 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 in the mephitism of Grub Street. Anything that 
 localized or temporized his theme seemed to par 
 alyze him. There were some circumstances in the 
 condition of the country in 1838, just after Presi 
 dent Jackson s successful battle with nullification, 
 which persuaded him that he should accept an in 
 vitation from the New York Historical Society to 
 deliver a poem before that body on the occasion of 
 its fiftieth anniversary, when John Quincy Adams 
 was to deliver the oration. He wrote the poem in 
 four stanzas, to be sung by the choir, beginning 
 
 " Great were the hearts, and strong 1 the minds, 
 
 Of those who framed in high debate 
 The immortal league of Love that binds 
 Our fair, broad empire, State with State." 
 
 It appeared to suit everybody but himself. It 
 was a temple that had not been built as he thought 
 the temples of the muses should always be built, 
 without the noise of hammer or of axe. He never 
 included it in any collection of his works. 
 
 He was requested to prepare an ode for the 
 opening ceremonies at the Universal Exhibition 
 of the Centennial year ab Philadelphia. In his 
 reply to Mr. Hawley, the president of the commis 
 sion, he said : 
 
 "I am sensible of the compliment paid me in 
 requesting me to compose a poem for the Centen 
 nial Exhibition at Philadelphia. It will not be in 
 my power to comply with the request for several 
 reasons. One is old age, which is another form of 
 ill-health, and implies a decline of both the bodily 
 
THE POET. 151 
 
 and mental faculties. Another is the difficulty of 
 satisfying myself in writing verses for particular 
 occasions, a circumstance which has of late caused 
 me to decline all applications of this nature." 
 
 Set into an old Roman wall in an old town in 
 the south of France may still be seen a memorial 
 stone, on which are inscribed the words Saltavit 
 et placuit. This is all the record we have of the 
 life-work of a Roman slave who died at the age of 
 fifteen. He was a popular favorite. He danced 
 and he pleased. The same epitaph would answer 
 for many popular poets. If Dryden had " de 
 bauched the stage," he said, " it was to please the 
 prince ; * claiming in the words of the well-worn 
 couplet that 
 
 "The Drama s laws, the Drama s patrons give, 
 And they who live to please must please to live." 
 
 Dr. Young also saltavit et placuit. He felt con 
 strained to omit from the collection of what he 
 termed his " Excusable Poems " many addressed 
 to the people of the highest rank in England ; 
 snch as his "Epistle to Lord Lansdowne," his 
 dedication of " The Last Day " to Queen Anne ; 
 and of " The Force of Religion or Vanquished 
 Love " to the Countess of Salisbury ; " The Poem 
 on the Accession of George I.," and several others. 
 
 Bryant s muse begat no offspring which his de 
 scendants will ever blush to recognize. 
 
 It was Bryant s notion that the life should be a 
 true poem of him who would himself be a true 
 
152 WILLIAM: CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 poet. Like Milton he drew the inspiration of his 
 poems " neither from the heat of youth nor from 
 the vapours of wine like that which flows at waste 
 from the pen of some vulgar amourist or the 
 trencher fury of some rhyming parasite," but 
 from 
 
 " Siloa s brook that flows 
 Fast by the Oracle of God." 
 
 It is one of his great distinctions that he never 
 wrote a line, either in verse or prose, that coun 
 tenanced a degrading impulse, an unclean thought, 
 a mischievous propensity, or an unmanly act ; and 
 this too in a period of our literature when for none 
 of the poets most read could their most ardent 
 admirers claim any one of these distinctions. 
 Bacon pleaded the distinction between vitia tem- 
 poris and vitia hominis in palliation of his offi 
 cial venality. Whatever force this distinction 
 may have had in Bacon s case, it cannot be in 
 voked to diminish in any degree the exceptional 
 merit of Bryant s example. When he began to 
 be known as a poet, the reign of baseness and bru 
 tality in literature which followed the restoration 
 of the Stuarts in England, and " which," said 
 Macaulay, " never could be recalled without a 
 blush," had not come to an end. The most popu 
 lar poets at the beginning of this century owed no 
 inconsiderable share of their popularity to verses 
 which would now scarcely receive hospitality from 
 any respectable periodical. It is, we hope, with a 
 pardonable pride that we allow ourselves to ob- 
 
THE POET. 153 
 
 serve that t-he same exalted sense of the poet s 
 calling has characterized all the verse written in 
 the English tongue on this side of the Atlantic 
 that has enjoyed any considerable measure of pop 
 ular favor. Following his own advice to the poet, 
 slightly paraphrased, 
 
 " He let no empty gust 
 
 Of passion find an utterance in his lay, 
 A blast that whirls the dust 
 
 Along the crowded street and dies away ; 
 But feelings of calm power and mighty sweep, 
 Like currents journeying through the windless deep." 
 
 As water in crystallizing excludes all foreign in 
 gredients, and out of acids, alkalies, and other solu 
 tions yields a crystal of perfect purity and sweet 
 ness, so his thoughts in passing into verse seemed 
 to separate themselves from everything that was 
 transient or vulgar. Plis poems have come to us 
 as completely freed from every trace of what is 
 of the earth earthy as if, like St. Luke s pictures, 
 they had received their finishing touch from the 
 angels. 
 
 Of poetic inspiration or the state of mind in 
 which poetry of a high order is produced, that 
 exaltation of the faculties in which high thoughts 
 come into the mind and clothe themselves in apt 
 words, Bryant s views serve to illustrate the 
 statement already made, that he was not a man of / 
 moods and tenses, and that his seasons for produc 
 tive labor did not alternate like the seasons of the I 
 calendar year, or the ebb and flow of the tides. 
 
154 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 
 
 " I cannot say," he wrote to a gentleman who 
 had addressed him some inquiries upon the sub 
 ject, " that in writing my poems I am directly 
 conscious of the action of an outside intelligence, 
 but I sometimes wonder whence the thoughts come, 
 and they seem to me hardly my own. Sometimes 
 in searching for the adequate expression, it seems 
 suddenly darted into my mind like a ray of light 
 into a dark room, and gives me a kind of sur 
 prise. I don t invoke the muse at all. 
 
 " It appears to me that inspiration has no more 
 to do with one intellectual process than another, 
 and that if there is such a thing it might be present 
 as directly in the solutions of a problem of high 
 mathematics as in a copy of verses." 
 
 Bryant seems never to have attempted to place 
 his fame under the protection of a long poem. Of 
 the one hundred and sixty poems which he left us, 
 the average length is only seventy-five lines. He 
 did not believe in long poems. It was a theory of 
 his that short poems might perhaps be chained to 
 gether with links of verse,/ so as to add some to 
 their commercial but not to their poetical value ; 
 that a long poem was as impossible as a long ecs 
 tasy ; that what is called a long poem, like " Para 
 dise Lost " and the " Divine Comedy," is a mere 
 succession of poems strung together upon a thread 
 of verse ; the thread of verse serving sometimes to 
 popularize them by adapting them to a wider range 
 of literary taste, or a more sluggish intellectual 
 digestion. He was often urged by his friend 
 
THE POET. 155 
 
 Dana, and indeed by most of his intimate friends, 
 to undertake a long poem. In his younger days 
 he seems to have dreamed of such a work, but 
 early came to the conclusion that there was no 
 such thing as a long poem, and if there was, that 
 Apollo had not provided him with the sort of lyre 
 to render it. Loyalty to his journal, too, may 
 have had something to do with his never attempt 
 ing it. Those who are most familiar with Bryant s 
 poetry will now probably be agreed that the ethi 
 cal, which in the language of a sister art is called 
 the motif, of all his verse in which reflection ruled, 
 subordinating if not excluding all the demonstra 
 tions of passion, would be fatal to the success of a 
 long poem. 
 
 William Walsh, whom Dryden pronounced the 
 best critic of his time in England, gave Pope a bit 
 of advice which has become famous : " We had 
 had great poets," he said, " but never one great 
 poet that was correct," and he accordingly recom 
 mended Pope to make correctness his great aim. 
 
 Of the wisdom of this advice Bryant seems to 
 have been more thoroughly penetrated than the 
 poet to whom it was addressed. The correctness 
 of his measure and the conscientious fidelity of his 
 rhymes are apt to arrest the attention and compel 
 the ad miration of even the careless reader. No poet 
 probably ever knew better than he the technique 
 of the art of " building the lofty rhyme." Dana 
 urged him to write a book on the laws of metre, 
 of which at a very early age he had made himself 
 
156 W1L L I A M CULL EX BR YA NT. 
 
 a master. And yet, though critics concur in pro 
 nouncing his verse unfailingly graceful and melo 
 dious, Mr. Bryant had no ear nor taste for music. 
 Whatever inconvenience or loss of enjoyment he 
 may have experienced from this insensibility, there 
 is no evidence that either his verse or prose suf 
 fered in consequence, while both, as asserted by an 
 accomplished English critic, " partook in an emi 
 nent degree of that curious and almost rarefied 
 refinement in which oddly enough American liter 
 ature seems to surpass even the literature of the 
 Old World." i 
 
 1 The French poet Malherbe exhibits another instance of a 
 poet who was a master of versification, though like Bryant des 
 titute of the musical sense. D Alembert says of him : 
 
 " Malherbe, dont le vrai nitrite est d avoir mis le premier, dans 
 les vers frantjais, de 1 harmonic et de Yth gance, comme 1 a dit lui- 
 meme avec tant d e le gance et d harmonic le Idgislateur Des- 
 preaux. 
 
 " On pretend que ce meme Malherbe, si sensible a 1 harmonie 
 des vers, et qui en a e te le cre ateur parmi nous, e tait absolument 
 de mele d oreille pour la musique. Plus d un homme de lettres 
 c&ebre a e^e* dans ce cas, et meme en a fait 1 aveu. Juste Lipse 
 et Manage e*taient de ce nombre, sans parler de beaucoup d au- 
 tres. Le second de ces deux savans faisait pourtant des vers en 
 quatre langues, en latin, en grec, en italien et meme en frangais. 
 Cette insensibility musicale, meme dans un poe te, est peut-etre 
 moins surprenante qu on ne pourrait le croire. La me"lodie du 
 chant et celle des vers quoiquelles aient pour ainsi dire quelques 
 points d attouchement communs sorit trop se pare es et trop diffe*- 
 rents a d autres e*gards, pour qu une oreille vivement affecte e de 
 1 une, soit necessairement entraine e et subjiigue e par 1 autre, sur- 
 tout si la melodie musicale est renforce e, pour ne pas dire trou 
 ble* e par les effets bruyants de 1 harmonie moderne : effets que 
 1 oreille delicate des anciens parait n avoir pas sentis ou peut- 
 etre qu elle a reprouve s. " 
 
THE POET. 157 
 
 By some process as mysterious as the leafing of 
 the forests or the swelling of the tides, Bryant 
 manaed to make himself familiar with most of the / 
 
 the world that had a literature. Like 
 Sir Henry Wotton, 
 
 "So many languages had he in store 
 That only fame could speak of him in more." 
 
 Besides an acquaintance with the Greek and 
 Latin tongues, which many who have made these 
 studies a specialty might have envied, he had a 
 critical knowledge of German, French, Spanish, 
 Portuguese, Italian, and modern Greek, to which 
 during his travels in the East he added more than 
 a smattering of Arabic. When it is borne in 
 mind that he acquired them all in the leisure econ 
 omized from one of the most unrelenting profes 
 sions, we can realize the amazing faculty, the high 
 discipline and admirable husbandry of time and 
 force, which enabled him like Ulysses * to do so 
 many things so well." The French say, " Ce qui 
 n est pas clair n est pas Francais." Bryant thought 
 that verses that were obscure were not poetry. 
 His constitutional aversion to sham of all kinds no 
 doubt had its share in begetting this aversion. He 
 would as soon have invoked the aid of a brass band 
 to secure an audience as to lend himself to any 
 meretricious devices for extorting admiration. 
 Such he regarded all surprising novelties of ex 
 pression and all subtleties of thought which the 
 common apprehension does not readily accept. He 
 felt that no poem was fit to leave his hand if a 
 
158 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 word or a line in it betrayed affectation or required 
 study to be understood. 
 
 His doc-trine upon this subject is thus briefly set 
 forth in his introduction to " A Library of Poetry 
 and Song- : " 
 
 " To me it seems that one of the most impor 
 tant requisites for a great poet is a luminous style. 
 The elements of poetry lie in natural objects, in 
 the vicissitudes of human life, in the emotions of 
 the human heart, and the relations of man to man. 
 He who can present them in combinations and 
 lights which at once affect the mind with a deep 
 sense of their truth and beauty is the poet for his 
 own age and the ages that succeed him. . . . The 
 metaphysician, the subtle thinker, the dealer in 
 abstruse speculations, whatever his skill in versifi 
 cation, misapplies it when he abandons the more 
 convenient form of prose, and perplexes himself 
 with the attempt to express his ideas in poetic num 
 bers." 
 
 In a letter to the Century Club, on the occasion 
 of Bryant s seventieth birthday, Edward Everett 
 pays a special tribute to this quality of the poet s 
 verse. 
 
 " I particularly enjoy Bryant s poetry because I can 
 understand it. It is probably a sign that I am some 
 what behind the age, that I have but little relish for 
 elaborate obscurity in literature, of which you find it 
 difficult to study out the meaning and are not sure you 
 have hit upon it at last. This is too much the charac 
 ter of the modern English school. . . . Surprise, con- 
 
THE POET. 159 
 
 ceit, strange combinations of imagery and expression 
 may be successfully managed, but it is merit of an in 
 ferior kind. The truly beautiful, pathetic, and sub 
 lime is always simple and natural and marked by a 
 certain serene unconsciousness of effort. This is the 
 character of Mr. Bryant s poetry." 
 
 He often amused himself with translating from 
 foreign tongues the verses that particularly pleased 
 him, and there were very few thus honored by his 
 choice that were not to be congratulated upon the 
 new garb in which he arrayed them. Later in 
 life, and when invention became too fatiguing to 
 be more than an occasional resource, he found in 
 translation an agreeable employment. We find 
 the first intimation of this in a note to Dana dated 
 May, 1863. 
 
 " I have been looking over Cowper s translation 
 of Homer lately, and comparing it with the origi 
 nal. It has astonished me that one who wrote 
 such strong English in his original compositions 
 should have put Homer, who wrote also with sim 
 plicity and spirit, into such phraseology as he has 
 done. For example, when Ulysses in the fifth 
 book of the Odyssey asks What will become of 
 me. Cowper makes him say : 
 
 " What destiny at last attends me ? 
 
 and so on. The greater part is in such stilted 
 phrase, and all the freedom and fire of the old 
 poet is lost." 
 
 Old age affected the quantity rather than the 
 quality of Bryant s verse. We have lines written 
 
160 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 after he was eighty which will compare not unfa 
 vorably with anything he had written before. But 
 his inspiration came^ at longer intervals, and for 
 obvious reasons was less fervently invited. After 
 seventy, when the grasshopper becomes a burden, 
 he sought pleasant rather than exciting occupation 
 for his mind, and this he found in transferring into 
 English blank verse the works of the great master 
 of Epic Poetry. " I find it a pastime," he wrote 
 to his friend, Professor Alden. "At my time of life 
 it is somewhat dangerous to tax the brain to any 
 great extent. Whatever requires invention, what 
 ever compels one to search both for new thoughts 
 and adequate expressions wherewith to clothe them, 
 makes a severe demand on the intellect and the 
 nervous system, at least I have found it so. In 
 translating poetry, at least in translating with 
 such freedom as blank verse allows, my only 
 trouble is with the expression ; the thoughts are 
 already at hand." 
 
 It is with poets as with other men. When they 
 are old they shall stretch forth their hands and an 
 other shall gird them. It was Bryant s choice not 
 unnaturally when the time came for him to be 
 girded to choose one of his own kind to gird him ; 
 to supply him with the invention and the thoughts 
 for which he should only be required to supply 
 the raiment. 
 
 In the fall of 1863, a translation of some pas 
 sages from the fifth book of the Odyssey with 
 which he had been amusing himself appeared in 
 
THE POET. 161 
 
 the " Atlantic Monthly," and at the close of 1863, 
 he republished it in a collection of his more recent 
 verses, which appeared under the somewhat depress 
 ing title of " Thirty Poems." The reception it 
 met with from scholars as well as poets was so en 
 couraging that he tried his hand with some pas 
 sages of the Iliad. The death of Mrs. Bryant in 
 the summer of 1866 increased his indisposition 
 for severe work and his need for distracting em 
 ployment. The translations from Homer answered 
 this purpose so well that he finally resolved to 
 translate the whole of the Iliad. He sailed on his 
 sixth voyage to Europe in October of that year 
 with a copy of Homer in his pocket, and a fixed 
 purpose of rendering at least forty lines of the old 
 Greek into English every day. He frequently ex 
 ceeded this number, and as he became inured to the 
 work, not unfrequently increased the number to 
 seventy-five. This was his early morning work, 
 and even after his return was never allowed to in 
 terfere with his customary professional avocations. 
 Writing to his brother John in February, 1869, 
 he said : " I have just finished my translation of 
 the twelfth book of Homer s Iliad. In regard 
 to what you say about Homer I would observe 
 that Pope s translation is more periphrastic than 
 mine and will probably have several thousand 
 more lines. I have yet somewhat more than 
 seven thousand of the original to translate. Yes 
 terday I translated sixty of the Greek, making 
 some seventy or eighty in my shorter blank verse, 
 
 
162 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 but generally I cannot do so much, sometimes 
 not more than forty." 
 
 These first twelve books of his version of the 
 Iliad were published by Fields, Osgood & Co , 
 of Boston, in February, 1870, and the second vol 
 ume, containing the remainder of the poem, in 
 June of the same year. In the preface he informs 
 us that he began the work in 1865, but afterwards 
 gave himself up to it the more willingly because it 
 helped in some measure to divert his mind from a 
 great domestic sorrow. " I am not sure," he adds, 
 " that, when it shall be concluded, it may not cost 
 me some regret to part with so interesting a com 
 panion as the old Greek poet, with whose thoughts 
 I have for four years past been occupied, though 
 with interruptions, in the endeavor to transfer 
 from his own grand musical Greek to our less so 
 norous but still manly and flexible tongue." 
 
 He tells us of his endeavor to be strictly faithful 
 in his rendering, " to add nothing of his own, and 
 to give the reader, so far as our language would 
 allow, all that he found in the original." He was 
 at equal pains, he assures us, to preserve the sim 
 plicity of style of the old poet, " who wrote for the 
 popular ear and according to the genius of his 
 language. I have chosen such English as offers 
 no violence to the ordinary usages and structure of 
 our own. I have sought to attain what belongs to 
 the original affluent narrative style which shall 
 carry the reader forward without the impediment 
 of unexpected inversions and capricious phrases, 
 
THE POET. 163 
 
 and in which, if he find nothing to stop at and 
 admire, there will at least be nothing to divert his 
 attention from the story and the characters of the 
 poem, from the events related and the objects de 
 scribed." He disagrees with Pope, who doubted 
 whether a poem could be supported without rhyme 
 in our language, unless stiffened with such strong 
 words as would destroy the language itself. 
 Bryant assigns as his reason for choosing blank 
 verse for his Homer, that it enabled him to keep 
 more closely to the original without any sacrifice 
 either of ease or spirit. " The use of rhyme in a 
 translation is a constant temptation to petty in 
 fidelities, and to the employment of expressions 
 which have an air of constraint and do not the 
 most adequately convey the thought." He did 
 not adopt the ballad measure because the Homeric 
 poems seemed to him beyond the popular ballads 
 of any modern nation in reach of thought and in 
 richness of phraseology. " If I had adopted that 
 form of poetry," he says, " there would have been 
 besides the disadvantage of rhyme, a temptation 
 to make the version conform in style and spirit to 
 the old ballads of our own literature in a degree 
 which the original does not warrant, and which, as 
 I think, would lead to some sacrifice of its dignity." 
 Bryant s reasons for preferring blank verse for 
 this poem all have weight, and with a translator 
 approaching his eightieth year they were conclu 
 sive. But no one can doubt that the position 
 which Pope s version of Homer holds in our liter- 
 
164 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 ature is very largely due to its measure and rhyme, 
 nor that Bryant s translation would have been more 
 widely popular, if less faithful, had it been tuned 
 like Pope s to the popular ear. But to a person so 
 conscientious about his rhymes, about the correct 
 ness of his verse and the fidelity of his translation, 
 as Bryant, the use of rhyme implied an enormous 
 increase of labor from which he shrank, and which 
 would have deprived his task of what to him was 
 its chief attraction, its recreatory character. Had 
 he undertaken this task twenty or even ten years 
 earlier, and given it the charm of rhyme, it would 
 probably have soon extinguished forever all popu 
 lar interest in every other translation in our lan 
 guage. Whether it would have stood as high in the 
 estimation of scholars, whether the proportions of 
 Homer to Bryant in it would have been the same 
 as in this version, we have his own authority for 
 doubting, but we should certainly have had a 
 Homer which would have fascinated a larger num 
 ber. Without rhyme, however, it was a great lit- 
 erary success. It was received with unqualified 
 admiration by the^ghest poetical and scholarly 
 authorities as welflHt^lie press of his country. 
 
 " It is commendBplie wrote to Dana, "in quar 
 ters where my orflBp. poems are, I suspect, not 
 much thought of, and I sometimes fancy that pos 
 sibly it is thought that I am more successful as a 
 translator than in anything else, which you know 
 is not the highest praise. I did not find the work 
 of rendering Homer into blank verse very fa- 
 
THE POET. 165 
 
 tiguing, and perhaps it was the most suitable liter 
 ary occupation for an old man like me, who feels 
 the necessity of being busy about something and 
 yet does not like hard work." 
 
 To his old pastor, Dr. Dewey, he wrote : 
 " I can imagine that on laying down the volume 
 you drew a long breath of relief one of those 
 grateful sighs significant alike of the trouble that 
 has been taken and the satisfaction we feel that it 
 is over. Do you remember Pope s line : 
 
 " And Congreve loved and Swift endured my lays ? 
 
 It is not every poet that has a friend capable of 
 enduring four hundred pages of his verse. 
 
 " I am really glad that you can speak so kindly 
 of my translation. It is well received so far, and 
 sells well, I rn told, for so costly a publication. I 
 am almost ashamed to see it got up in so expensive 
 a manner. Democrat as I am, I would, if the mat 
 ter had been left to my discretion, have published 
 it in as cheap a form as is consistent with neatness 
 and a good fair legible type. I like very well to 
 see it in that large type, but I should have made 
 it a book for persons of small means, that is to say 
 if they chose to buy it." 
 
 Bryant realized, as he had apprehended he 
 should, that the old Greek poet was too interesting 
 a companion to part with without regret, and he 
 determined, therefore, to postpone their parting as 
 long as possible. Before the Iliad was through 
 the press he had begnn to translate the Odyssey. 
 
166 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 Writing to his brother John on the 1st of July, 
 1870, he says : 
 
 " 1 have begun the translation of the Odyssey, 
 but I do not intend to hurry the task, nor even to 
 translate with as much diligence as I translated 
 the Iliad ; so I may never finish it. But it will 
 give me an occupation which will not be an irk 
 some one, and will furnish me with a reason for 
 declining other literary tasks and a hundred other 
 engagements which I want some other excuse be 
 sides old age for declining." 
 
 The feeling that the number of working days in 
 reserve for him at the most was very limited had 
 its effect in securing for the Odyssey a precedence 
 among his numerous engagements which had not 
 been accorded to the Iliad, for by the close of 
 April, 1871, the first volume of twelve books was 
 in the printer s hands, and, before the year closed, 
 the whole work was ready for the press. " There 
 was 110 need," he wrote his publisher in April, 
 " that you should exhort me to be diligent in put 
 ting the Odyssey into blank verse. I have been 
 as industrious as was reasonable. I understand 
 very well that at my time of life such enterprises 
 are apt to be brought to a conclusion before they 
 are finished. And I have therefore wrought harder 
 upon my task than some of rny friends thought 
 was well for me. I have already sent forward 
 the MSS. for the first volume. You may remem 
 ber that I finished my translation of the Iliad 
 within the time that I undertook, and this would 
 
THE POET. 167 
 
 have been done without any urging. In the case 
 of the Odyssey, I have finished the first volume 
 two months sooner than I promised. I do not 
 think the Odyssey the better part of Homer except 
 morally. The gods set a better example and take 
 more care to see that wrong and injustice are dis 
 couraged among mankind. But there is not the 
 same spirit and fire, nor the same vividness of de 
 scription, and this the translator must feel as 
 strongly as the reader. Let me correct what I 
 have already said by adding that there is yet in 
 the Odyssey one more advantage over the Iliad. 
 It is better as a story. In the Iliad the plot is, to 
 me, unsatisfactory, and there is, besides, a monot 
 ony of carnage you get a surfeit of slaughter." 
 
 Again, on the 18th of June following, he writes 
 to Dana : 
 
 " I do not feel quite so easy in work as I did in 
 translating the Iliad, for the thought that I am so 
 old that I may be interrupted in my task before it 
 is done rises in my mind now and then, and I 
 work a little the more diligently for it, which per 
 haps is not so well." 
 
 Writing to his publishers 1n July, he betrayed 
 the consciousness that he was getting nervous about 
 finishing his work : 
 
 " As I have finished another book of the Odys 
 sey, I forward it to-day. But do not let your 
 printers tread on my heels. It is disagreeable to be 
 dunned for copy, and I cannot write as well when 
 I have any vexation of that sort on my mind." 
 
168 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 On the 7th of December, 1871, Bryant addressed 
 the following brief note to his publishers : " I 
 have sent you by mail the twenty-fourth and con 
 cluding book of my translation of Homer s Odys 
 sey together with the table of contents for the sec 
 ond volume." It was in this unceremonious way 
 he took leave of a task which had been his chief 
 solace and recreation for six long years. Perhaps 
 he dared not trust himself to say more of such a 
 parting. 
 
 The reception of Bryant s Homer by his country 
 people could not have been more cordial. Every 
 one seemed proud of it. The conviction rapidly 
 took possession of the scholarly public that the old 
 Greek had never before been brought so near 
 to readers of English, and that our literature 
 had been permanently and substantially enriched. 
 Neither of these convictions is likely to be shaken. 
 No scholar has made the criticism of Bryant s 
 Homer that Bentley made of Pope s. 1 Nor did 
 any one ever claim to share with him the credit of 
 any portion of his work. 2 While giving his read 
 ers the genuine spirit of Homer, Bryant has also 
 
 1 " A pretty poem, Mr. f*ope, but you must not call it Homer. " 
 
 2 A large portion of the translation of the Odyssey appears now 
 to have been done by a better scholar than Pope named Broome, 
 and all the learning- in the notes was gathered by him. Pope s 
 reluctance to recognize the services of his collaborators provoked 
 no end of lampoons, of which the following is one of the clever 
 est: 
 
 " By tricks sustained in post-craft complete 
 Retire triumphant to thy Twickenham seat. 
 That seat the work of half-paid drudging Broome, 
 And called by joking Tritons Homer s tomb." 
 
THE POET. 169 
 
 given them one of the finest specimens of pure 
 Saxon English in our literature. It will reward 
 the curiosity of the philologist to note the large 
 proportion of words of one syllable, the scarcity of 
 words of three or more syllables, and the yet more 
 conspicuous absence of words of Greek or Latin 
 derivation. 
 
 The sale of the work was to Mr. Bryant at least 
 one gratifying evidence of its merit. Up to May, 
 1888, 17,000 copies of the Iliad had been sold, 
 yielding him in royalties 112,738. Of the Odys 
 sey, 10,244 copies, yielding in royalties $4,713, 
 making a total income from these translations up 
 to the spring of 1888 of $17,451. 
 
 There is a moral for publishers and authors in 
 the circumstance that while 3,283 copies of the 
 more costly 8vo edition of the Iliad were selling, 
 5,449 copies of the 12mo edition in two volumes 
 were disposed of. The royalties from the cheaper 
 editions amounted to $4,713.60, while the royalties 
 from the other edition amounted only to $811.80. 
 This is exclusive of the copyright of $2,500, paid 
 on the day of publication. Of the large paper 
 copies of the Odyssey only 1,615 copies were 
 sold to 7,229 of the cheaper editions, yielding roy 
 alties from the former of $321.05, and $2,392 
 from the latter. 
 
 In looking at the financial side of this publica 
 tion one is irresistibly tempted to compare it with 
 the only publication which invites such a compari 
 son the version of Homer made by Pope in the 
 
170 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 first quarter of the last century, 1 which Johnson 
 called " the noblest version of poetry the world 
 has ever seen," which the poet Gray said some 
 what rashly no other translation would ever equal, 
 and to which Gibbon ascribed " every merit but 
 that of faithfulness to the original." Pope s Iliad 
 was published in six volumes, for each of which 
 Lintot, his publisher, was to pay <200, besides 
 supplying Pope gratuitously with the copies for 
 which he procured subscribers. The subscribers 
 paid a guinea a volume, and as 575 subscribers 
 took 654 copies, Pope received altogether X5,320 4s. 
 By the Odyssey he seems to have made about 
 .3,500 more, yielding a total profit of about 
 9,000. So that he could say with truth, " Thanks 
 to Homer," he " could live and thrive, indebted to 
 no prince or peer alive." 
 
 " No author," says Leslie Stephen, 2 " had ever 
 made anything approaching the sum which Pope 
 received, and very few authors, even in the pres 
 ent age of gold, would despise such payment." 
 
 The returns to Bryant from his Homer in about 
 the same period of time after publication were but 
 about $20,000 as against the returns to Pope of say 
 $45,000, a little more than one third the latter sum. 
 On the other hand, Pope s receipts were all realized 
 mainly from the sale of only 654 copies or there 
 abouts. How many Lintot sold we do not know, 
 but probably not more than as many more, or, at 
 
 1 1715-1726. 
 
 2 Alexander Pope, in English Mun of Letters, p. 62. 
 
THE POET. 171 
 
 most, a thousand copies, which would make a total 
 of 1,654 copies, while the sales of Bryant s version 
 amounted to 17,000 copies, or more than ten times 
 the number sold of Pope s version. 
 
 When it is considered that Bryant made no per 
 sonal appeal to his friends and admirers, as Pope 
 did, to buy his book ; that he had no touter like 
 Swift to bustle about in the ante-chambers of 
 royalty, button-holing every considerable man he 
 met, to say, mutatis mutandis, " the best poet in 
 America has begun a translation into English 
 verse, for which he must have them all subscribe, 
 for the author shall not begin to print till I have a 
 thousand guineas for him;" and that he never pre 
 sented a copy of this or of any other publication of 
 his with the view of securing a notice or review of 
 it, 1 the success of his translation financially cannot 
 be deemed to suffer by the comparison with its 
 only rival. 
 
 It deserves to be noted here also that Pope, when 
 he finished his Homer, was on the hither side of 
 forty, and Bryant, when he finished his, was on the 
 thither side of eighty. 
 
 1 Not long 1 after the publication of his Thirty Poems, Bryant 
 wrote to Dana : 
 
 "Acting on your suggestion, I have sent a copy of my Thirty 
 Poems to President Hopkins, of Williams College, and have 
 received from him a very kind note. In a letter to him accom 
 panying the volume, I made you responsible for my sending it, 
 f qr I never in my life sent a copy of my poems to anybody with 
 the design to g et a good word from them or to invite their notice 
 qf my -writings in print." 
 
172 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 Of the financial returns of his other poetical 
 works we have no precise information, but it is 
 quite safe to say that he realized many times as 
 much from his Homer as from all the other verses 
 he ever wrote. We have ample confirmation of 
 this conclusion in two letters written, one in the 
 earlier stage of his career, and the other near to 
 its close. 
 
 Writing to Dana in April, 1832, and shortly 
 after the publication of the volume of poems which 
 Irving introduced to the British public, he said : 
 
 " You ask about the sale of the book. Mr. 
 Bliss tells me it is very good for poetry. I printed 
 a thousand copies, and more than half are disposed 
 of. As to the price, it may be rather high at 
 $1.25, but I found that, with what I should give 
 away and what the booksellers would take, little 
 would be left for me if a rather high price was not 
 put upon it. And so I told the publisher to fix it 
 at a dollar and a quarter. If the whole impression 
 sells it will bring me 1300, perhaps a little more. 
 I hope you do not think that too much. I have 
 sent the volume out to England, and Washington 
 Irving has had the kindness to undertake to intro 
 duce it to the English public. ... As for the 
 lucre of the thing on either side of the water, an 
 experience of twenty -five years for it is so long 
 since I became an author has convinced me that 
 poetry is an unprofitable trade, and I am very 
 glad that I have something more certain to depend 
 upon for a living." 
 
THE POET. 173 
 
 Later on in his experience he spoke of the poet 
 ical market with even less indulgence. 
 
 To Dana : 
 
 " After all, poetic wares are not for the market 
 of the present day. Poetry may get printed in the 
 newspapers, but no man makes money by it for 
 the simple reason that nobody cares a fig for 
 it. The taste for it is something old-fashioned ; 
 the march of the age is in another direction ; man- 
 "kind are occupied with politics, railroads, and 
 steamboats. Hundreds of persons will talk flip 
 pantly and volubly about poetry, and even write 
 about it, who know no more of the matter, and 
 have no more feeling of the matter, than the old 
 stump I write this letter with." 
 
 The artistic taste of this country has so much 
 improved in the last quarter of a century, that it 
 would not be surprising if Bryant s original poems 
 have yielded to his heirs already larger returns 
 than they ever yielded their author. 
 
 Bryant, as we have seen, sprang into the world a 
 poet full grown. His muse had no adolescence. As 
 with Pindar, the bees swarmed in his mouth while 
 yet a child. At eighteen he took his place as the 
 first poet of the country, but not to realize the too 
 common fate of such rare precocity and fall a prey 
 to the envy of the gods, as Dry den puts it, who 
 
 " When their gifts too lavishly are placed 
 Soon they repent and will not make them last." 
 
 There is no evidence that Bryant s genius ever 
 suffered from prematurity of development. He 
 
174 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 never wrote a poem from the day that " Thana- 
 topsis " appeared until his death that was unwor 
 thy of his best, and the cadences yet linger in the 
 air of those impressive lines with which in 1878 he 
 commemorated the birthday of the hero of our 
 Republic. Was there ever a more meritorious 
 poem written by a youth of eighteen than " Than- 
 atopsis " ? Was there ever a nobler and more 
 Homeric thought more exquisitely set to verse 
 than is developed in the three last of the following 
 stanzas, written in his eighty- fourth year? 
 
 THE TWENTY-SECOND OF FEBRUARY. 
 
 Pale is the February sky, 
 And brief the mid-day s sunny hours ; 
 The wind-swept forest seems to sigh 
 For the sweet time of leaves and flowers. 
 
 Yet has no month a prouder day, 
 Not even when the summer broods 
 O er meadows in their fresh array, 
 Or autumn tints the glowing woods. 
 
 For this chill season now again 
 Brings, in its annual round, the morn 
 When, greatest of the sons of men, 
 Our glorious Washington was born. 
 
 Lo, where, beneath an icy shield, 
 Calmly the mighty Hudson flows ! 
 By snow-clad fell and frozen field, 
 Broadening, the lordly river goes. 
 
 The wildest storm that sweeps through space, 
 And rends the oak with sudden force, 
 
THE POET. 175 
 
 Can raise no ripple on his face, 
 Or slacken his majestic course. 
 
 Thus, mid the wreck of thrones, shall live 
 Unmarred, undimmed, our hero s fame, 
 And years succeeding years shall give 
 Increase of honors to his name. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE TOURIST. 
 
 BRYANT S favorite and chief recreation was 
 travel, partly because there is no escape from the 
 importunate exactions of a daily journal but flight, 
 partly because of the happy combination of rest 
 and mental fertilization which travel affords. Few 
 Americans have been as well equipped to enjoy 
 travel as Bryant, and no one could enjoy it much 
 more. His familiarity with the languages and 
 literature of the countries he visited, his intelli 
 gent curiosity about everything which distin 
 guished his own from other countries and peoples, 
 and his love of nature that always grew by what 
 it fed on, made him in the largest sense of the 
 word a citizen of the world, a stranger nowhere, 
 and welcome wherever a welcome was desirable. 
 His first excursion that deserved to be dignified 
 with the title of a journey was made in 1832 to 
 visit his brothers, who upon the death of their 
 father had with their mother sought a new home 
 in the West, and had become the proprietors of 
 a large landed estate in Illinois. He consumed 
 two weeks in this journey, which is now made in 
 about as many days. While crossing the prairies 
 
THE TOURIST. 177 
 
 between the Mississippi River and his brothers 
 plantation, he encountered a company of Illinois 
 volunteers who were moving south to take a part in 
 what is commonly known as the " Black Hawk 
 War." They were led by a tall, awkward, un 
 couth lad, whose appearance particularly attracted 
 Mr. Bryant s attention, and whose conversation de 
 lighted him by its breeziness and originality. He 
 learned many years afterwards, from one who had 
 belonged to the troop, that this captain of theirs 
 was named Abraham Lincoln. 1 Mr. Bryant little 
 dreamed as he scanned the ungainly stripling and 
 listened to his unweeded jokes that, some thirty 
 years later, it would become his duty to present 
 him to a New York audience and his privilege to 
 hear from these very lips " the decisive word of 
 the contest " which was to result in making this 
 captain of volunteers, for eight consecutive years, 
 President of the Republic ; the central figure of 
 one of the most momentous wars that has ever yet 
 been waged among men, and the signer of the proc 
 lamation that delivered over six millions of peo 
 ple from slavery. * 
 
 It was during this visit to his brothers that he 
 wrote of 
 
 " The unshorn fields, boundless and beautiful 
 For which the speech of England has no name," 
 
 the closing lines of which, though found in every 
 " Reader " used in American schools, never stales, 
 1 Godwin s Life of Bryant, i. 283. 
 
178 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 and will always lend a classic interest to Bryant s 
 first trip beyond the Alleghanies. 
 
 tl Still this great solitude is quick with life. 
 Myriads of insects, gaudy as the flowers 
 They flutter over, gentle quadrupeds, 
 And birds, that scarce have learned the fear of man, 
 Are here, and sliding reptiles of the ground, 
 Startlingly beautiful. The graceful deer 
 Bounds to the wood at my approach. The bee, 
 A more adventurous colonist than man, 
 With whom he came across the eastern deep, 
 Fills the savannas with his murmurings, 
 And hides his sweets, as in the golden age, 
 Within the hollow oak. I listen long 
 To his domestic hum, and think I hear 
 The sound of that advancing multitude 
 Which soon shall fill these deserts. From the ground 
 Comes up the laugh of children, the soft voice 
 Of maidens, and the sweet and solemn hymn 
 Of Sabbath worshipers. The low of herds 
 Blends with the rustling of the heavy grain 
 Over the dark brown furrows. All at once 
 A fresher wind sweeps by, and breaks my dream, 
 And I am in the wilderness alone." 
 
 In June, 1834, Bryant took passage with his 
 family in the sailing ship Poland for Havre, to re 
 ceive his first impressions of the Old World. He 
 spent a few weeks in Paris, a month in Rome, a 
 month in Naples, two months in Florence, four 
 months in Pisa, three months in Munich, and four 
 months in Heidelberg. His studious sojourn at 
 this renowned seat of learning was interrupted by 
 intelligence of the dangerous illness of his editorial 
 colleague, William Leggett, who became associated 
 with him in the editorship of the " Evening Post " 
 
THE TOURIST. 179 
 
 very shortly after the death of Coleman. 1 Placing 
 his family in charge of friends, not wishing to 
 expose them to the discomforts of a winter s voy 
 age, he sailed from Havre for New York in 
 February, 1836. 
 
 As we never have first impressions of anything 
 but once, it is interesting to note some of Bryant s 
 first impressions of France. On his journey from 
 Havre to Paris, he tells us in one of his letters to 
 the " Evening Post : " - 
 
 " We passed females riding on donkeys, the Old 
 Testament beast of burden, with panniers on each 
 side, as was the custom hundreds of years since. 
 We saw ancient dames sitting at their doors with 
 distaffs, twisting the thread by twirling the spindle 
 between the thumb and finger as they did in the 
 days of Homer. A flock of sheep was grazing on 
 the side of a hill ; they were attended by a shep 
 herd and a brace of prick-eared dogs, which kept 
 them from straying, as was done thousands of 
 years ago. Speckled birds were hopping by the 
 sides of the road ; it was the magpie, the bird of 
 ancient fable. Flocks of what I at first took for 
 the crow of our country were stalking in the fields, 
 or sailing in the air over the old elms ; it was the 
 rook, the bird made as classical by Addison as his 
 cousin the raven by the Latin poets. . . . 
 
 1 Leggett was a native of New York, had been a midshipman 
 in the navy, and had written some tales and verses which at 
 tracted Mr. Bryant s attention. The wags of the opposition 
 called them "The Channting Cherubs." 
 
180 WILLIAM CULLKN BRYANT. 
 
 " As we drew nearer to Paris we saw the plant 
 which Noah first committed to the earth after the 
 deluge you know what that was, I hope 
 trained on low stakes, and growing thickly and 
 luxuriantly on the slopes by the side of the high 
 way. Here, too, was the tree which was the sub 
 ject of the first Christian miracle, the fig, its 
 branches heavy with the bursting fruit just be 
 ginning to ripen for the market." 
 
 He was in raptures with the Italian atmosphere, 
 which surpassed his expectations, but in other re 
 spects he was disappointed with Italian scenery : 
 
 " The forms of the mountains are wonderfully 
 picturesque, and their effect is heightened by the 
 rich atmosphere through which they are seen, and 
 by the buildings, imposing from their architecture, 
 or venerable from time, which crown the emi 
 nences. But if the hand of man has done some 
 thing to embellish this region, it has done more 
 to deform it. Not a tree is suffered to retain its 
 natural shape, not a brook to flow in its natural 
 channel. An exterminating war is carried on 
 against the natural herbage of the soil. The coun 
 try is without woods and green fields ; and to him 
 who views the vale of the Arno 4 from the top of 
 Fiesole, or any of the neighboring heights, grand 
 as he will allow the circle of the mountains to be 
 and magnificent the edifices with which the region 
 is adorned, it appears, at any time after midsummer, 
 a huge valley of dust, planted with low rows of the 
 pallid and thin-leaved olive, or the more dwarfish 
 
THE TOURIST. 181 
 
 maple on which the vines are trained. The sim 
 plicity of nature, so far as can be done, is de 
 stroyed ; there is no fine sweep of forest, no broad 
 expanse of meadow, or pasture ground, no ancient 
 and towering trees clustered about the villas, no 
 rows of natural shrubbery following the course of 
 the brooks and rivers. The streams, which are 
 often but the beds of torrents dry during the sum 
 mer, are confined in straight channels by stone 
 walls and embankments ; the slopes are broken up 
 and disfigured by terraces ; and the trees are kept 
 down by constant pruning and lopping, until half 
 way up the sides of the Apennines, where the limit 
 of cultivation is reached, and thence to the sum 
 mit, is a barren steep of rock, without herbage or 
 soil." 
 
 Venice, he found, as many others have done, 
 " the most pleasing of the Italian cities." 
 
 At a post house in the Tyrol where he stopped 
 on a Saturday his refection was limited to soup 
 maigre and fish, " the post-master telling us that 
 the priest had positively forbidden meat to be given 
 to travelers. Think of that ! that we who had 
 eaten wild boar and pheasants at Kome under the 
 very nostrils of the Pope himself and his whole 
 conclave of cardinals, should be refused a morsel 
 of flesh on an ordinary Saturday at a tavern on a 
 lonely mountain in the Tyrol by the orders of a 
 parish priest." 
 
 In September, 1845, he found an opportunity of 
 returning to Europe. After spending about two 
 
182 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 months in England, he devoted the succeeding 
 three months to the principal places of interest in 
 France, Belgium, Holland, Germany, Switzerland, 
 and Italy, returning to his country and work in 
 November. 
 
 In England, Bryant felt the reflex influence of 
 his fame as a poet more distinctly than he had felt 
 it ten years before on his visit to the Continent. 
 This was due in part to the publication in the in 
 terval of the collection of his poems which ap 
 peared in London under the editorial auspices of 
 Mr. Irving. Mr. Everett, then our Minister at 
 the English Court, called upon him promptly, and 
 invited him to meet some of the prominent liter 
 ary men at breakfast. Samuel Rogers, Monck- 
 ton Milnes (the late Lord Houghton), and Tom 
 Moore were of the number. How Rogers drove 
 him home to his lodgings, gave him a general in 
 vitation to his breakfasts, and how they contracted 
 before they separated a warm personal regard for 
 each other, which only increased with their years, 
 has been already told. From Bryant s diary it 
 appears that Rogers s house was always open to 
 him as a favored guest. Presented to London 
 society under such auspices, it is needless to say 
 that before he left England he was brought into 
 relations with most of the literary celebrities of 
 London. He attended Parliament several times, 
 went to a Corn Law meeting, at which addresses 
 were made by Cobden, Fox, and Bright, where he 
 heard some lines cited from his "Hymn to the 
 
THE TOURIST. 183 
 
 City," which, say the reports of the day, were re 
 ceived with such prolonged applause that he was 
 obliged to acknowledge the compliment by rising 
 and bowing to the audience. 1 Upon the invitation 
 of one of the managers of the British Associa 
 tion he went to Cambridge to attend one of its 
 meetings. He here became acquainted with Dr. 
 Lyell, Dr. Buckland, Sir John Herschel, Hallam 
 the historian ; breakfasted and lunched with Dr. 
 Whewell, had his health proposed at a dinner at 
 which Professor Sedgwick presided, and at Shef 
 field was taken to see the venerable James Mont 
 gomery, " a light made man, in a huge black silk 
 cravat that filled his neck beyond the chin, rather 
 
 1 In his address at the dinner given him by the Free Trade 
 League of New York in 1868, Bryant gives the following remi 
 niscence of this meeting : 
 
 " Mr. President : we must follow up with vigor the advantage 
 we have gained, and when the people speak, Congress must and 
 shall give way. I remember that, when in the time of the 
 famous Corn-Law agitation in England, an agitation for cheap 
 bread, and our agitation is for cheap iron, cheap fuel, and cheap 
 clothing, I heard Cobden, Bright, and Fox discuss the question 
 of free trade in corn before an immense assemblage crowded into 
 Drury Lane Theatre. Fox insisted that the only method to move 
 the British Ministry with Peel at its head was to move the people. 
 He quoted the old rhyme 
 
 "When the wind blows then the mill goes ; 
 When the wind drops then the mill stops," 
 
 and he parodied it thus : 
 
 " When the League blows then the Peel goes, 
 When the League stops then the Peel drops." 
 
 "The league followed his advice and blew vigorously, and 
 Peel brought in a bill to repeal the restrictions on the trade in 
 breadstuff s, and England had cheap bread." 
 
184 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 thin faced, with a thin, long nose ; his conversa 
 tion agreeable but not striking." At the urgent 
 solicitation of Crabb Robinson he drove over to 
 call upon Wordsworth, whom he found " in his 
 garden in a white broad - brimmed, low -crowned 
 hat." The guests walked with him over his 
 grounds, took tea at six, and left at ten in the 
 evening. 1 
 
 He thought Edinburgh " the finest city he ever 
 saw," and Glasgow not without claim to the epi 
 thet " beautiful." What seems to have impressed 
 him most in the latter was " the good sense of the 
 people in erecting the statues which adorn their 
 public squares only to men who have some just 
 claim to distinction. Here are no statues, for ex 
 ample, of the profligate Charles II., or the worth 
 less Duke of York, or the silly Duke of Cambridge, 
 as you will see in other cities ; but here the marble 
 effigy of Walter Scott looks from a lofty column 
 in the principal square, and not far from it is that 
 of the inventor Watt ; while the statues erected to 
 military men are to those who, like Wellington, 
 have acquired a just renown in arms." 
 
 1 "Mr. Bryant often recurred in conversation to liis pleasant 
 visit to Wordsworth, but one always suspected that, much as he 
 reverenced the poet, he was not very strongly impressed by the 
 man. Wordsworth had a way of talking 1 of himself and his poe 
 try which must have seemed strange if not ludicrous to one so 
 habitually reticent in the same respects as our traveler. . . . Af 
 ter his return, Mr. Bryant sometimes amused his more intimate 
 friends with imitations of Wordsworth s reverent manner of re 
 peating his own verses not, however, in a way that lessened 
 respect for the venerable bard." Godwin s Life, ii. 9. 
 
THE TOURIST. 185 
 
 He listened on the Sabbath to a sermon from " a 
 comfortable-looking professor in some new theolog 
 ical school. It was quite commonplace, though not 
 so long as the Scotch ministers are in the habit of 
 giving. ... At the close of the exercises he an 
 nounced that a third service would be held in the 
 evening. The subject, he continued, will be 
 " The Thoughts and Exercises of Jonah in the 
 Whale s Belly." " 
 
 At Ayr, he wondered that, " born as Burns 
 was in the neighborhood of the sea, which is often 
 swelled into prodigious waves by the strong west 
 winds that beat on this coast, he should yet have 
 taken little, if any, of his poetic imagery from the 
 ocean, either in its wilder or its gentler moods. 
 But his occupations were among the fields, and his 
 thoughts were of those who dwelt among them, and 
 his imagination never wandered where his feelings 
 went not." He visited the monument to Burns 
 erected near the bridge, which he found " an 
 ostentatious thing, with a gilt tripod on its sum 
 mit. . . . The wild rose and the woodbine were in 
 full bloom in the hedges, and these to me were a 
 better memorial of Burns than anything which the 
 chisel could furnish." 
 
 In March, 1849, and immediately after the 
 memorable schism in the Democratic party which 
 resulted in the nomination of Van Buren for 
 President by the Free Soil party, the consequent 
 defeat of Cass, and the election of Taylor to the 
 Presidency, Mr. Bryant visited Cuba by way of 
 
186 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 the Carolinas and Florida. He spent a week on a 
 cotton plantation in South Carolina, another week 
 in Florida ; was received by the Governor-General 
 at Havana, passed several days on a coffee estate 
 at Matanzas, went by rail to San Antonio in a 
 car built at Newark, drawn by an engine made in 
 New York, and worked by an American engineer ; 
 breakfasted at the inn of La Punta on rice and 
 fresh eggs and a dish of meat so highly flavored 
 with garlic that it was impossible to distinguish the 
 species of animal it belonged to. He visited a cock 
 pit in which a man " with a gray beard, a grave 
 aspect, and a solemn gait was training a game 
 cock in the virtue of perseverance ; " witnessed a 
 cock-fight, a masked ball, a murderer garroted, 
 and slavery in some of its most inhuman phases. 
 He was absent on this excursion about two months. 
 In June, and only a few weeks after his return 
 from Cuba, he sailed again on his third trip to 
 Europe. After a few days in London he visited 
 the Orkney and Shetland Islands, lona and Staff a. 
 In August, he passed over to the Continent, spent a 
 few days in Paris, and then proceeded to Switzerland 
 and Bavaria, returning to the United States in De 
 cember. During his brief stay in London he was 
 again warmly received by Rogers, to whom he was 
 specially indebted for an introduction to, and a good 
 deal of attention from, the most eminent artists of 
 that day in England. At their first meeting on 
 this visit Rogers, then over eighty, said to him, 
 " You look hearty and cheerful, but our poets all 
 
THE TOURIST. 187 
 
 seem to be losing their minds. Campbell s son is 
 in a madhouse, and if his father had been put 
 there during the later years of his life it would 
 have been the proper place for him. Bowles 
 became weak-minded ; and as for Southey, you 
 know what happened to him. Moore was here the 
 other day, and I asked him how long he had been 
 in town. Three or four days, he said. 4 What, 
 three or four days, and not let me know it ! I 
 beg pardon, said he, putting his hand to his fore 
 head, I believe I came to town this morning. As 
 to Wordsworth, a gentleman who saw him lately 
 said to me, You will not find Wordsworth much 
 changed, he still talks rationally. : 
 
 On returning from the Shetland Islands, which 
 he left reluctantly, he called upon Lord Jeffrey, 
 "who," he wrote in his diary, "talked eloquently 
 of Puseyism, which he said was a fashion, an 
 affectation having no root in any great principle of 
 human nature ; appealing neither to mysticism nor 
 rationalism, the two great parties of the religious 
 world and which could only be temporary." 
 Bryant s impressions of Abbotsford were unsatis 
 factory. u The fellow at the gate was tipsy and 
 crusty, and the woman at the house flushed and 
 peremptory, not allowing the inside to be seen, 
 because the house was shut up." 
 
 Bryant found the Continent bristling with bayo 
 nets, and having all the air of conquered prov 
 inces ; nearly every city worth visiting was " in a 
 state of siege." Soldiers filled the streets and all 
 
188 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 the public squares of Paris. " Those," he wrote, 
 " who maintain that France is not fit for liberty 
 need not afflict themselves with the idea that there 
 is at present more liberty in France than her people 
 know how to enjoy." 
 
 He found the cities along 1 the Rhine also crowded 
 with soldiers, Heidelberg full of Prussian troops, 
 and every other man he met in the streets a soldier ; 
 he entered Stuttgart u with a little army." From 
 Geiseling-en to Ulm, on the Danube, " the road 
 was fairly lined with soldiers walking or resting 
 by the wayside, or closely packed in the peasants 
 wagons." At Munich, he hoped for better things, 
 but in vain. " They were everywhere placed in 
 sight as if to keep the people in awe." So weary 
 had he become of the perpetual sight of the mili 
 tary uniform and other symbols of repression 
 and oppression that when he reached Switzerland, 
 where no gens d armes challenged his movements, 
 where no one asked for his passport, nor for the 
 keys to his baggage, he " could almost have kneeled 
 and kissed the shores of the hospitable republic." 
 He returned to his country and duties in December. 
 
 In November, 1852, Bryant sailed again into the 
 East, Egypt and Syria being his objective points. 
 On his way through London he passed an evening 
 at the house of Mr. Chapman, the publisher, where, 
 it appears by his diary, he met " a blue-stocking 
 lady, who writes for the Westminster Review, 
 named Evans." A few days later, he learned that 
 this blue-stocking was Miss Marian Evans, since 
 
THE TOURIST. 189 
 
 celebrated as " George Eliot." He met there 
 also Herbert Spencer, Louis Blanc, and Pierre 
 Leroux. He arrived in Paris the evening before 
 the proclamation of the Empire ; saw the new 
 emperor escorted to the palace of the Toiler ies, 
 and was impressed " by the utter absence not only 
 of enthusiasm, but even of the least affectation of 
 enthusiasm," in the crowd which surrounded him. 
 From Paris he proceeded through Lyons, Mar 
 seilles, and Nimes to Genoa, whence he sailed to 
 Naples. After a flying visit to Pompeii, Amalfi, 
 Paestum, Nocera, and Malta, he embarked for 
 Alexandria, whence without delay he proceeded to 
 Cairo, where he spent a week, and thence up the 
 Nile as far as the first cataract, in which six 
 teen days were consumed. From Cairo he set out 
 across the desert for Jerusalem, where, after fif 
 teen days camel-riding, he arrived on the 13th of 
 February. After bathing in the Jordan and the 
 Dead Sea, visiting Nazareth, the Lake of Tiberias, 
 Mount Carmel, Acre, Tyre, Sidon, Beyrout, Damas 
 cus, and Baalbec, he sailed to Constantinople ; 
 thence went to Smyrna, Athens, Corfu, Trieste, 
 Venice, Florence, Rome, Civita Vecchia, and Mar 
 seilles. After spending ten or twelve days in Paris, 
 and a day or two in London, he returned to New 
 York in May, 1853. 
 
 In May, 1857, Mr. Bryant crossed the Atlantic 
 for the fifth time, not on this occasion for his 
 own pleasure, but for Mrs. Bryant s health, which 
 for two or three years had given him more or less 
 
190 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 solicitude. They landed in Havre on the first of 
 June. After a short stay in Paris, they traveled 
 through Belgium and Holland to Heidelberg, 
 thence through Switzerland, where thev did not 
 tarry, and France to Bagneres de Luchon. By 
 November, they were at Madrid, and in January, 
 1858, at Naples. On this journey Mrs. Bryant 
 was attacked with a catarrhal fever, which assumed 
 so grave a character at Naples as to detain them 
 there about four months instead of the one month 
 which they had reserved for that city. They left 
 in May for Rome, where they passed about a fort 
 night. They returned through Venice in July to 
 Paris, where they tarried a couple of weeks, and 
 then left for England, returning to the United 
 States in August, but unhappily without accom 
 plishing the primary purpose of their expedition. 
 <k l brought back Mrs. Bryant," he wrote to Dr. 
 Dewey, u nearly as well as she was when I carried 
 her off to Europe, and gaining strength so steadily 
 that I have great hopes of soon seeing her even 
 better than she was there." 
 
 It was in the spring of this year, as already 
 stated, that Bryant purchased the Bryant home 
 stead at Cummington, mainly to test the effects 
 of the Berkshire air upon her still languishing 
 health. He built a new house to insure the 
 greater advantage to her from the atmospheric ac 
 cessories, and when it was finished in the spring of 
 1866 invited all his relations from Illinois to join 
 him there in " hanging the pot." The pleasure 
 
THE TOURIST. 191 
 
 and benefits for- which he had so considerately 
 planned were not to be realized. Mrs. Bryant s 
 health that summer declined so rapidly that early 
 in July he was compelled to notify his brothers 
 and their families, already assembled at Cumming- 
 ton, that his wife was too ill to meet them there. 
 She survived but a few weeks, and on the 27th she 
 was where to use Bryant s own words : 
 
 " He who went before thee to prepare 
 For his meek followers, shall assign thy place." 
 
 lu reply to a letter of condolence from his friend 
 Dana, he wrote : 
 
 " I know, my dear friend, that she is happier 
 where she is now than even her generous sym 
 pathies made her here, yet when I think of the suf 
 fering which attended her illness of eleven weeks, 
 of the patience with which she compelled herself 
 to endure it, and of her strong desire to do God s 
 will, I cannot help feeling a sharp pang at the 
 heart, notwithstanding that I am able to think of 
 her as now beyond the reach of. death, pain, and 
 decay, with the Divine person whose example of 
 love and beneficence she sought to copy with the 
 humblest estimate of her success. In this point 
 of view my grief may be without cause, but there 
 is yet another way to look at it. I lived with my 
 wife forty-five years, and now that great blessing 
 of my life is withdrawn, and I am like one cast 
 out of Paradise and wandering in a strange world. 
 I hope yet to see all this in the light of which you 
 speak the light in which death duplicates those 
 
192 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 who are taken from us. Meantime, I perceive 
 this : that the example set me by her whom I have 
 lost of absolute sincerity, of active benevolence, 
 and of instant and resolute condemnation of 
 whatever is unrighteous and inhuman is more 
 thought of and cherished by me than during her 
 lifetime, and seems invested with a new sacred- 
 ness." 
 
 Among the papers found upon Bryant s table 
 when he left for Mexico was the following sketch 
 of an uncompleted poem which can scarcely be 
 fully appreciated by any who have not experienced 
 a similar bereavement, but which no one can. read 
 without being moved by its pathetic tenderness. 
 Mr. Bryant had then been a widower seven years. 
 
 " The morn hath not the glory that it wore, 
 
 Nor doth the day so beautifully die, 
 Since I can call thee to my side no more, 
 To gaze upon the sky. 
 
 " For thy dear hand, with each return of Spring, 
 
 I sought in sunny nooks the flowers she gave ; 
 I seek them still, and sorrowfully bring 
 The choicest to thy grave. 
 
 " Here where I sit alone is sometimes heard, 
 
 From the great world, a whisper of my name, 
 Joined, haply, to some kind, commending word, 
 By those whose praise is fame. 
 
 " And then, as if I thought thou still wert nigh, 
 
 I turn me, half forgetting thou art dead, 
 To read the gentle gladness in thine eye, 
 That once I might have read. 
 
THE TOURIST. 193 
 
 " I turn, but see thee not ; before my eyes 
 
 The image of a hillside mound appears, 
 Where all of thee that passed not to the skies 
 Was laid with bitter tears. 
 
 " And I, whose thoughts go back to happier days, 
 That fled with thee, would gladly now resign 
 All that the world can give of fame and praise, 
 For one sweet look of thine. 
 
 " Thus, ever, when I read of generous deeds, 
 
 Such words as thou didst once delight to hear, 
 My heart is wrung with anguish as it bleeds 
 To think thou art not near. 
 
 " And now that I can talk no more with thee 
 
 Of ancient friends and days too fair to last, 
 A bitterness blends with the memory 
 Of all that happy past. 
 
 "Oh, when I 
 " ROSLYN, 1873." 
 
 In a brief memoir written immediately after her 
 death for the eyes of his daughters alone, Mr. 
 Bryant said : 
 
 " I never wrote a poem that I did not repeat to 
 her and take her judgment upon it. I found its 
 success with the public precisely in proportion to 
 the impression it made upon her. She loved my 
 verses and judged them kindly, but did not like 
 them all equally well." l 
 
 The health of his younger daughter, worn by 
 watching and anxiety, now required his special at 
 tention, and under the impression that change of 
 
 1 Godwin s Life of Bryant, ii. 246. 
 
194 WILL I AM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 scene and climate might be advantageous to both, 
 they sailed again in a French steamer for Havre, 
 in October, 1866. After a fortnight in Paris they 
 went to Amelie-les-Bains, in the eastern Pyrenees. 
 In January, they left for the south of Spain, and 
 in February, they were in Florence. Here Bryant 
 was invited by Garibaldi to accompany him to 
 Venice, whither he was going to celebrate the 
 withdrawal of the Austrians from Italy. No one 
 who knew Bryant would need be told that he pre 
 ferred to adhere to his original purpose of taking 
 his daughter to Eome, where he arrived in March. 
 They were soon driven thence by the heat, and 
 were at Dresden in April, having visited on their 
 way Ancona, Trieste, Vienna, Salzburg, Munich, 
 and Nuremberg. They were again in Paris early 
 in May, 1867, in England in July, where they re 
 mained until the 24th of August, passing much of 
 their time in Wales, and returned to New York 
 again in September. This was the sixth and last 
 of Mr. Bryant s trips beyond the Atlantic. While 
 in Rome and later in Florence on this trip, he met 
 Hawthorne more or less familiarly. In his " French 
 and Italian Note-Books," Hawthorne has given a 
 striking sketch of Bryant and the impression the 
 poet left upon him. 
 
 " May 22. Yesterday, while we were at dinner, Mr. 
 Bryant called. I never saw him but once before, and 
 that was at the door of our little red cottage in Lenox, 
 he sitting in a wagon with one or two of the Sedgwicks, 
 merely exchanging a greeting with me from under the 
 
THE TOURIST. 195 
 
 brim of his straw hat, and driving on. He presented 
 himself now with a long white beard, such as a palmer 
 might have worn as the growth of his long pilgrimages ; 
 a brow almost entirely bald and what hair he has quite 
 hoary ; a forehead impending, yet not massive ; dark, 
 bushy eyebrows and keen eyes, without much softness in 
 them ; a dark and sallow complexion ; a slender figure, 
 bent a little with age, but at once alert and infirm. It 
 surprised me to see him so venerable ; for, as poets are 
 Apollo s kinsmen, we are inclined to attribute to them 
 his enviable quality of never growing old. There was 
 a weary look in his face, as if he were tired of seeing 
 things and doing things, though with certainly enough 
 still to see and do, if need were. My family gathered 
 about him, and he conversed with great readiness and 
 simplicity about his travels, and whatever other subject 
 came up, telling us that he had been abroad five times, 
 and was now getting a little homesick, and had no more 
 eagerness for sights. . . . 
 
 " His manners and whole aspect are very particularly 
 plain, though not affectedly so ; but it seems as if in the 
 decline of life, and the security of his position, he had 
 put off whatever artificial polish he may have heretofore 
 had, and resumed the simple habits and deportment of 
 his early New England breeding. Not but what you 
 discover, nevertheless, that he is a man of refinement, 
 who has seen the world, and is well aware of his own 
 place in it. He spoke with great pleasure of his recent 
 visit to Spain. I introduced the subject of Kansas, and 
 methought his face forthwith assumed something of the 
 bitter keenness of the editor of a political newspaper 
 while speaking of the triumph of the administration 
 over the Free Soil opposition. I inquired whether he 
 
196 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 had seen S ,* and he gave a very sad account of 
 
 him as he appeared at their last meeting, which was in 
 
 Paris. S , he thought, had suffered terribly, and 
 
 would never again be the man he was ; he was getting 
 fat ; he talked continually of himself, and of trifles con 
 cerning himself, and seemed to have no interest for 
 other matters ; and Mr. Bryant feared that the shock 
 upon his nerves had extended to his intellect, and was 
 
 irremediable. He said that S ought to retire from 
 
 public life, but had no friend true enough to tell him 
 so. This is about as sad as anything can be. I hate to 
 
 have S undergo the fate of a martyr, because he 
 
 was not naturally of the stuff that martyrs are made of, 
 and it is altogether by mistake that he has thrust him 
 self into the position of one. He was merely, though 
 with excellent abilities, one of the best of fellows, and 
 ought to have lived and died in good fellowship with all 
 the world. 
 
 " Bryant was not in the least degree excited about 
 this or any other subject. He uttered neither passion 
 nor poetry, but excellent good sense, and accurate infor 
 mation, on whatever subject transpired ; a Very pleasant 
 man to associate with, but rather cold, I should imagine, 
 if one should seek to touch his heart with one s own. 
 He shook hands kindly all round, but not with any 
 warmth of gripe, although the ease of his deportment 
 had put us all on sociable terms with him." 
 
 Upon the completion of his translation of the 
 Homeric poems, Bryant felt the need of such re 
 laxation and diversion as he could not secure at 
 
 1 Charles Sumner, then in Paris under treatment for the 
 bruises he had received in the senate chamber from a member of 
 Congress named Brooks, of South Carolina. 
 
THE TOURIST. 197 
 
 home, and decided to seek them in a trip to Mexico. 
 Accompanied by his brother John, his younger 
 daughter, a niece, and his friend John Durand, he 
 sailed on the 25th. of January, 1872, for Nassau, 
 where he stopped two weeks, thence to Havana, 
 where he spent a week, thence to Vera Cruz, where 
 he arrived on the 27th of February, thence by rail 
 and stage to the City of Mexico. He remained in 
 the capital about a fortnight, and then returned lei 
 surely to the coast, visiting Puebla and Orizaba on 
 the way. They returned by way of Havana, and 
 reached home again before the end of April. Dur 
 ing his stay in Mexico he was received with very 
 conspicuous attention. No foreigner, it was said, 
 had ever been received in Mexico with more. Not 
 only President Juarez and his cabinet, but the lit 
 erary and scientific notabilities of the country vied 
 with each other in heaping honors upon him. 
 
 " To no extrinsic influences," said a Mexican print 
 of the day, "can be attributed the honors and hospi 
 tality so lavishly conferred upon him. They were the 
 spontaneous outpourings of a grateful people, who never 
 forget an act of kindness and justice, and who had not 
 forgotten that when Mexico was friendless, Mr. Bryant 
 became her friend. They were the responsive echoes 
 of the gifted and talented of the land, who appreciated 
 his lofty genius ; they were the tokens of the admiration 
 of high talents and noble aspirations entertained by our 
 society." 
 
 Upon his return from his trip to Europe in 
 1850, Bryant was persuaded to collect into a volume 
 
198 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 and publish the letters he had sent to his jour 
 nal from time to time during his several excursions 
 into foreign lands and in the remoter parts of his 
 own country. He called them " Letters of a Trav 
 eler." In the winter of 1869, he published a sup 
 plementary volume containing the letters written 
 subsequently to the first publication. To these he 
 gave the title of " Letters from the East." Had 
 he written freely of what he saw and heard, these 
 letters would have been of rare interest and value, 
 for wherever he traveled he saw, if not all, very 
 many of the most interesting people. But his no 
 tions of the sanctity of private hospitality were so 
 strict that it is scarcely an exaggeration to say that 
 in all his published letters cannot be found the 
 name of a single person from whom he received 
 hospitality or whose acquaintance he made in any 
 private circle. In his preface to " Letters of a 
 Traveler," he says, " The author might have made 
 these letters more interesting to readers in general, 
 if he had spoken of distinguished men to whose 
 society he was admitted ; but the limits within 
 which this may be done with propriety and without 
 offense are so narrow and so easily overstepped 
 that he has preferred to abstain altogether from 
 that class of topics." 
 
 It is needless to say that the epistolary echoes 
 of a tourist, from which all notice of the people he 
 meets are rigorously excluded, could hardly possess 
 a very lively interest, whoever might be the writer ; 
 and Bryant put a just estimate upon his letters 
 
THE TOURIST. 199 
 
 when he said that " the highest merit such a work 
 caii claim, if ever so well executed, is but slight." 
 They have a certain value, however, which time 
 will add to, more than it will subtract from. They 
 are written in faultless English and faultless taste ; 
 they show what, in the lands he visited, specially 
 attracted his attention ; and they paint many pic 
 tures and disclose many social and political condi 
 tions which, in progress of time, would hardly be 
 credited upon less unimpeachable authority. His 
 letters from the East are by far the most interest 
 ing, for there he encountered none of the restric 
 tions which impoverished his letters from Europe. 
 He was at liberty to speak freely of everything he 
 saw and of everything lie felt among the Mussul- 
 men, and he made of it an exceedingly entertaining 
 book. It possesses a consecutiveness of narrative, 
 too, which is wanting in the previous collection, 
 and was written after he had become more familiar 
 with the world and with the manners of many 
 men, and when his judgment was fully ripe. But 
 all of them have delighted his many personal 
 friends and admirers, in deference to whose wishes 
 rather than to his own judgment he put them into 
 volumes. It is very possible that they will add 
 little, if anything, to his fame as a man of letters, 
 but it is certain that they lend proportion and 
 dignity to his character as a member of human 
 society. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ORATOR. 
 
 AN English critic, writing of Bryant a few 
 weeks after his death, said, " He was so accom 
 plished, so graceful, so impressive a speaker, that 
 he only just failed to be an orator." This is not a 
 criticism to quarrel with, but it is a judgment to 
 be accepted with conditions. It can hardly be 
 said that any of his discourses which have survived 
 him were eloquent in the common acceptation of 
 that word, for they lacked the fire and enthusiasm 
 which we expect from a speaker inspired by an 
 audience ; but had he been accustomed to earn his 
 bread by his tongue instead of his pen, had he 
 occupied a seat in our halls of legislation, or re 
 mained at the bar, or in a position where the atten 
 tion of large audiences was to be held, it would be 
 difficult to name any faculty of heart or mind that 
 was lacking to have won for him the reputation of 
 an orator, had he courted such a reputation. He 
 had an acute sensibility for the choicest forms and 
 highest powers of expression ; he had a marvelous 
 memory, and was singularly alive to every senti 
 ment that appealed to our higher nature and most 
 refined sympathies. His aversion to every form 
 
THE ORATOR. 201 
 
 of disingenuousness, too, was so uncompromising, 
 and his judgments were so considerate and free 
 from the delusions of partisanship, that he was al 
 ways sure of a sympathetic and confiding audience. 
 What he might have achieved as an orator is now 
 largely a matter of conjecture. He left the bar 
 before his talents as a public speaker had been 
 tested ; he never took a seat in any deliberative 
 body ; and the occasions upon which he appeared 
 before the public were usually of a more or less 
 academic character, where one would have hardly 
 looked for the higher flights of eloquence from 
 even the most accomplished orator. In any judg 
 ment of Bryant, the fact must never be lost sight 
 of that it was his first and chief ambition from 
 childhood to be a poet ; to the Spirit of Poesy he 
 was always so loyal that he would not allow him 
 self to flirt, even, with any other kind of fame. He 
 seemed to take no pride in being one of the best 
 prose writers of his day, nor of being one of the 
 most successful public speakers. It is easy to see 
 by what he did, both as a journalist and platform 
 speaker, that he might have excelled himself in 
 both characters if he had desired to. But he pre 
 ferred that posterity should know him as a poet, 
 and was content that all his other work should be 
 just good enough not to impair his poetical repute. 1 
 
 1 "I honor Mr. Bryant," says a distinguished contemporary 
 poet, " for his laborious life, and admire him for the determina 
 tion which kept him a poet through it all. The child was father to 
 the man, and the man never forgot the child s birthright of song, 
 
202 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 About twenty of Bryant s discourses have been 
 preserved. Most of them were delivered after his 
 position at the head of American literature was 
 secure, and upon occasions when no other person 
 could have filled his place. 
 
 His first effort of an oratorical nature in New 
 York was at a meeting of the National Academy 
 of Design, held in commemoration of Thomas Cole, 
 the artist, in the spring of 1848. It is no dispar 
 agement of this performance to say that it would 
 be the least missed perhaps of any of his elaborate 
 discourses. He had been very intimate with Cole, 
 
 the divine birthright which revealed him to himself, which 
 brightened his brooding- youth, sustained him through his strug 
 gling 1 manhood, and consecrated him in his old age. The cham 
 bers of his mind were crowded with guests whom he would not 
 have chosen if he had been free to choose, but there was one 
 chamber into which they never penetrated, into which nothing 
 common ever penetrated, in that it was the innermost sanctuary 
 of his soul. The poems that he wrote in New York and else 
 where were of the same general character as those that he wrote 
 at Cummington, the only difference between them being that the 
 later ones are riper and more mature than the earlier ones, larger 
 in intention and scope, of broader and higher significance, more 
 thoughtful and meditative, more serious and dignified, more 
 purely poetical and imaginative, in a single word, of greater 
 distinction. What separates them from all other American 
 poems is imagination, which was the supreme quality of his 
 genius, and which, while it is nowhere absent from his verse, is 
 omnipresent in his blank verse, which is the best that has been 
 written by any modern poet whatever, the most sustained, 
 the most impressive, the most unforgettable. No one can read 
 Thanatopsis, The Prairies, The Antiquity of Freedom, 
 and The Flood of Years without feeling that Mr. Bryant was 
 a great poet. Richard H. Stoddard, in Lippincotf s Magazine, 
 November, 1889. 
 
THE ORATOR. 203 
 
 was fond of him, and he held in great respect the 
 kind of cleverness which, till then, he had not seen 
 much of in any one but Cole. It was, however, so 
 manifestly inspired by feelings of personal regard 
 as to lack something of the judicial impartiality 
 which gives so much dignity to his later discourses. 
 
 The death of James Fenimore Cooper furnished 
 the next, I might say the first, occasion for his ap 
 pearance as the official interpreter of a national 
 emotion. His discourse on this occasion and his 
 address on the death of Irving are models of com 
 memorative oratory. With a grateful appreciation 
 of everything in the life and work of both that 
 entitled them to the gratitude and admiration of 
 posterity, there is not a lineament exaggerated nor 
 a merit overlooked or overstated, while the criti 
 cism is so discriminating and amiable that the most 
 loyal friend of either could find nothing in them 
 to which they could take exception. Upon the 
 deaths of Halleck in 1868 and of Verplanck in 
 1870, it was to Bryant that every eye turned as 
 the fittest person to say the last word at their 
 tombs. 
 
 The charms of these four discourses entitle 
 them to a permanent place in our literature, and it 
 is safe to say that no judgment that may hereafter 
 be passed upon either of these eminent writers, not 
 conforming substantially with that pronounced in 
 these discourses, is likely to endure. 
 
 During the later years of his life there was no 
 one whose presence was more sought for on public 
 
204 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 occasions in New York than Mr. Bryant, and he 
 rarely refused these applications unless he could 
 offer a satisfactory excuse, though he never encour 
 aged them, and sometimes lost patience at the fre 
 quency and pertinacity with which they were 
 pressed upon him. 
 
 All his discourses are conspicuous by a " vir 
 ginal modesty," and the absence of all apparent 
 effort to withdraw the interest of his audience from 
 the occasion to himself. He never seemed to ask 
 or expect fame from his speeches, and yet he never 
 made a speech, however unpreparedly, that did not 
 by its elevation of thought, or its scholarly allu 
 sions, or its cheerful humor, or its graces of form, 
 or some or all these qualities combined, betray 
 what Confucius was wont to call " the superior 
 man," nor one which does not possess some charm 
 sure to beguile the attention of the most indiffer 
 ent reader. 
 
 At the dinner given to the late Professor Morse 
 in 1868, he made a brief address in which there 
 were passages that would add a leaf to the chaplet 
 of any orator, ancient or modern. Speaking of 
 Morse s great invention he said : 
 
 " There is one view of this great invention which 
 impresses me with awe. Beside me at this board, 
 along wi th the illustrious man whom we are met to 
 honor, and whose name will go down to the latest 
 generations of civilized man, sits the gentleman to 
 whose clear-sighted perseverance, and to whose 
 energy, an energy which knew no discourage- 
 
THE ORATOR. 205 
 
 ment, no weariness, no pause, we owe it that the 
 telegraph has been laid which connects the Old 
 World with the New through the Atlantic Ocean. 
 My imagination goes clown to the chambers of the 
 middle sea, to those vast depths where repose the 
 mystic wire on beds of coral, among forests of 
 tangle, or on the bottom of the dim blue gulfs, 
 strewn with the bones of whales and sharks, skele 
 tons of drowned men, and ribs and masts of foun 
 dered barks, laden with wedges of gold never to be 
 coined, and pipes of the choicest vintages of earth 
 never to be tasted. Through these watery soli 
 tudes, among the fountains of the great deep, the 
 abode of perpetual silence, never visited by living 
 human presence and beyond the sight of human 
 eye, there are gliding to and fro, by night and by 
 day, in light and in darkness, in calm and in tem 
 pest, currents of human thought borne by the elec 
 tric pulse which obeys the bidding of man. That 
 slender wire thrills with the hopes and fears of 
 nations ; it vibrates to every emotion that can be 
 awakened by any event affecting the welfare of the 
 human race. A volume of contemporary history 
 passes every hour of the day from one continent to 
 the other. An operator on the Continent of Eu 
 rope gently touches the keys of an instrument in 
 his quiet room, a message is shot with the swiftness 
 of light through the abysses of the sea, and before 
 his hand is lifted from the machine the story of re 
 volts and revolutions, of monarchs dethroned and 
 new dynasties set up in their place, of battles and 
 
206 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 conquests and treaties of peace, of great statesmen 
 fallen in death, lights of the world gone out and 
 new luminaries glimmering on the horizon, is writ 
 ten down in another quiet room on the other side 
 of the globe. 
 
 " Mr. President, I see in the circumstances which 
 I have enumerated a new proof of the superiority 
 of mind to matter, of the independent existence of 
 that part of our nature which we call the spirit, 
 when it can thus subdue, enslave, and educate the 
 subtilest, the most active, and in certain of its 
 manifestations the most intractable and terrible, of 
 the elements, making it in our hands the vehicle 
 of thought, and compelling it to speak every lan 
 guage of the civilized world. I infer the capacity 
 of the spirit for a separate state of being, its inde 
 structible essence and its noble destiny, and I 
 thank the great discoverer whom we have assem 
 bled to honor for this confirmation of my faith." 
 
 Darwin s theory of the consanguinity of man 
 and the lower animals was rarely if ever, in so few 
 words, put more effectively on the defensive than 
 in Bryant s brief address at a Williams College 
 Alumni dinner in 1871. "Admitting," he says, 
 " that we are of the same flesh and blood as the 
 baboon and the rat, where does he find his proof 
 that we are improving instead of degenerating ? 
 He claims that man is an improved monkey ; how 
 does he know that the monkey is not a degenerate 
 man, a decayed branch of the human family, fallen 
 away from the high rank he once held, and haunted 
 
THE ORATOR. 207 
 
 by a dim sentiment of his lost dignity, as we may 
 infer from his melancholy aspect ? Improvement, 
 Mr. President and gentlemen, implies effort : it is 
 up-hill work ; degeneracy is easy : it asks only 
 neglect, indolence, inaction. How often do the 
 descendants of illustrious men become the most 
 stupid of the human race ! How many are there, 
 each of whom we may call 
 
 The tenth transmitter of a foolish face ! 
 
 a line of Savage, the best he ever wrote, worth 
 all his other verses put together The tenth 
 transmitter of a foolish face and that face 
 growing more and more foolish from generation to 
 generation. I might instance the Bourbon family, 
 lately reigning in Spain and Naples. I might in 
 stance the royal family of Austria. There is a 
 whole nation, millions upon millions, our Chinese 
 neighbors, of whom the better opinion is that 
 they have been going backward in civilization from 
 century to century. Perhaps they wear the pig 
 tail as an emblem of what they are all coming to 
 some thousands of years hence. How, then, can 
 Mr. Darwin insist that if we admit the near kin 
 dred of man to the inferior animals we must be 
 lieve that our progress has been upward, and that 
 the nobler animals are the progeny of the inferior ? 
 Is not the contrary the more probable ? Is it not 
 more likely that the more easy downward road has 
 been taken, that the lower animals are derived 
 from some degenerate branch of the human race, 
 
208 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 and that, if we do not labor to keep the rank we 
 hold, our race may be frittered away into the 
 meaner tribes of animals, and finally into animal- 
 culse ? Then may our Tweeds become the progen 
 itors of those skulking thieves of the Western wilds, 
 the prairie-wolves, or swim stagnant pools in the 
 shape of horse-leeches ; or astute lawyers may be 
 represented by foxes, our great architects by colo 
 nies of beavers, our poets by clouds of mosquitoes 
 famished and musical ; our doctors of divinity 
 I say it with all respect for the cloth by swarms 
 of the mantis, or praying insect, always in the atti 
 tude of devotion. If we hold to Darwin s theory, 
 as I do not, how are we to know that the vast 
 multitudes of men and women on the earth are not 
 the ruins, so to speak, of some nobler species, with 
 more elevated and perfect faculties, mental, physi 
 cal, and moral, but now extinct ? 
 
 " Let me say, then, to those who believe in the 
 relationship of the animal tribes, that it behooves 
 them to avoid the danger which I have pointed 
 out by giving a generous support to those institu 
 tions of wholesome learning, like Williams Col 
 lege, designed to hold us back from the threatened 
 degeneracy of which there are fearful portents 
 abroad portents of moral degeneracy, at least. 
 Let them move before we begin to squeak like 
 bats or gibber like apes ; before that mark of the 
 brute, the tail, has sprouted, or, at least, while it 
 is in the tender germ, the mere bud, giving but 
 a faint and indistinct promise of what it may 
 
THE ORATOR. 209 
 
 become when the owner shall coil its extremity 
 around the horizontal branch of a tree and swing 
 himself by it from one trunk of the forest to 
 another. If any one here be conscious of but a 
 friendly leaning to the monkey theory, let him 
 contribute liberally to the fund for putting up a 
 building where the students of Williams College 
 can be cheaply boarded ; if the taint have struck 
 deeper, let him found a scholarship ; if he have 
 fully embraced the theory, let him, at any sacri 
 fice, found a professorship, and then, although his 
 theory may be wrong, his practice in this instance 
 will be worthy of universal commendation." 1 
 
 It is not difficult to imagine the effect of the 
 following passage in a speech delivered at a mass 
 meeting held in 1874 to denounce the issue of 
 more irredeemable paper : 
 
 " Will you hear an anecdote illustrative of this 
 topic ? It was some forty years ago that a tall, 
 thin gentleman, in a long great-coat and a cap, 
 stalked into the Mechanics Bank in this city. He 
 leisurely took from his pocket-book a five-dollar 
 note of the bank, and laying it before the teller, 
 requested its payment. The teller said, We do 
 not pay our notes. The tall, thin man who it 
 appeared was John Randolph put on his specta 
 cles and read the note in a high-keyed voice. 
 " The president and directors of the Mechanics 
 Bank promise to pay the bearer five dollars, value 
 
 1 Whether as a specimen of his logic or his humor, is not this 
 worthy of Dr. Franklin at his best ? 
 
210 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 received." There, I want the five dollars which 
 you promise to pay. But we do not pay, re 
 joined the teller ; the banks have suspended pay 
 ment. Oh, stopped payment ! Then let me tell 
 you what to do. Take the sledge-hammer out of 
 the hand that hangs over your door, and in its 
 place put a razor. My friends, if Congress should 
 be moved by this clamor to disgrace the country 
 by issuing more notes, the condition of whose ex 
 istence is to be dishonored, may we not take a hint 
 from this anecdote ? What business will the king 
 of birds the eagle, whose flight is above that of 
 all other fowls of the air have on an escutcheon 
 which this policy will disgrace in the eyes of the 
 world ? Let his image then be blotted out ; ob 
 literate also the stars of heaven ; efface the stripes 
 of morning light which should be the promise of 
 a day of glory and honor, and, instead of those 
 emblems, let the limner draw on the broad sheet 
 the image of a razor huge enough to be wielded 
 by the Giant Despair, a gentleman with whom, 
 if this demand for more paper-money be granted, 
 we are destined to scrape a closer acquaintance 
 than we have enjoyed yet, and on the enormous 
 blade let the words be inscribed, in staring letters, 
 4 Warranted to shave. " 
 
 I ask indulgence for one more specimen of Bry 
 ant s oratory, taken from a speech made at a din 
 ner given him by the Free Trade League in New 
 York in 1868. 
 
 " Yet there is a certain plausibility in what the 
 
THE ORATOR. 211 
 
 protectionists say when they talk of home industry, 
 and a home market, a plausibility which misleads 
 many worthy and otherwise sensible people, 
 sensible in all other respects, and whom as men I 
 admire and honor. There are clever men among 
 them who bring to their side of the question a 
 great array of facts, many of which, however, have 
 110 real bearing upon its solution. There is a 
 plausibility, too, in the idea that the sun makes a 
 daily circuit around the earth, and if there were 
 any private interests to be promoted in maintain 
 ing it, we should have thousands believing that 
 the earth stands while the sun travels round it. 
 4 See for yourself, they would say. Will you not 
 believe the evidence of your own senses ? The 
 sun comes up in the east every day before your 
 eyes, stands over your head at noon, and goes down 
 in the afternoon in the west. Why, you admit the 
 fact when you say, " the sun rises," " the sun sets," 
 " the sun is up," " the sun is down." What a fool 
 was Galileo, what nonsense is the system of Coper 
 nicus, what trash was written by Sir Isaac New 
 ton ! 
 
 " I remember a case in point, an anecdote I 
 once heard in Scotland. A writer to the signet, 
 that is to say an attorney named Moll, who knew 
 very little except what related to the drawing up 
 of law papers, once heard a lecture on Astronomy 
 in which some illustrations were given of the daily 
 revolution of the earth on its axis. The attorney 
 was perplexed and bewildered by this philosophy 
 
212 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 which was so new to him, and one day, his 
 thoughts frequently recurring to the subject, he 
 looked up from his law-papers and said : 4 The 
 young mon says the warld turns roond. It s vera 
 extraordinar . I ve lived in this place sax and 
 thretty years and that grass-plot preserves the same 
 relative poseetion to the house that it had sax and 
 thretty years sin , and yet the young mon says the 
 warld turns roond. It s vera extraordinar . Here 
 was a man who was not to be taken in by this non 
 sense about the earth revolving on its axis, and if 
 there were any real or imaginary pecuniary advan 
 tage to be gained by denying it, Mr. Moll would 
 have a whole army, of his way of thinking, many of 
 them far wiser and better informed in other re 
 spects than he." 
 
 Bryant was accustomed to think over and mem 
 orize and not infrequently write out what he wished 
 to say, when he had sufficient notice of what was 
 expected of him, 1 though his most unpremeditated 
 
 1 His memory once, and for the first time, served him a scurvy 
 trick, which depressed him very much. A friend of his who wit 
 nessed it has made the following- account of the scene : "It was 
 at a public dinner, I think, and during- the last decade of his life, 
 that he was called upon and expected to speak. He had not pro 
 ceeded far in his discourse when he stopped, obviously having- lost 
 its thread. He stood a few seconds in silence and then sat down. 
 Before another speaker had been called upon, however, he rose 
 ag-ain and resumed his speech, but alas! only for a sentence or 
 two. He lost the thread again, sat down, and made no farther 
 effort to resume. On leaving 1 the hall I joined him, and we 
 walked together to his house. As soon as we were alone in the 
 street, he said in a tone which showed plainly how much the ut 
 terance cost him, I see I must attempt no more public speeches ; 
 
THE ORATOR. 213 
 
 speeches had merits all their own. I do not recall 
 a single one which did not contain something that 
 was worthy of preservation. It cannot be said that 
 his elocution added much to the effectiveness of his 
 discourse. His voice was not rounded and full nor 
 very flexible, and therefore lent but little force or 
 light and shade to his discourse ; nor did he ever 
 wholly overcome a certain monotony of manner 
 which made the hearer of the poem read before 
 the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Cambridge in 
 1821 1 exclaim, "If Everett had read this poem, 
 what a sensation it would have produced ! " His 
 modesty and utter self-effacement always more 
 than made up with his audience for any lack of 
 elocutionary skill. I cannot better conclude what 
 I have to say of Bryant as a platform speaker than 
 with the following extract from some comments 
 
 my memory never served me such a trick before in all my life. 
 I comforted him as well as I could by saying that he had been 
 too fatigued by the labors of the day, and that I had no doubt 
 after suitable rest he would find his memory just as faithful a 
 servant and friend as ever. The fact that his memory could tire, 
 and like himself was growing old, not merely in years, was a 
 revelation to him. Painful as is the spectacle always of a speaker 
 betrayed before an aiidience by his memory, there was one most 
 gratifying incident in the case I have described. No power of 
 eloquence from Mr. Bryant s lips could have drawn from that 
 audience the manifestations of sympathy for him which followed 
 the suspension of his speech, and which said as plainly as if ut 
 tered in words, No matter about the speech ; nothing you have 
 said, nothing you coiild have said, nothing you have left unsaid, 
 could make us love and respect you more or less than we do 
 now : 
 
 1 The Ages. 
 
214 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 upon his " Discourses " from the pen of the late 
 George Ripley, one of the most learned and judi 
 cious literary critics of his time. 
 
 " He was always the honored guest of the evening, and 
 the moment in which he was to be called upon to speak 
 was awaited with eager expectation that never ended in 
 disappointment. He was singularly happy in seizing 
 the tone of the company, no matter what were the cir 
 cumstances or the occasion ; his remarks were not only 
 pertinent, but eminently felicitous ; with no pretensions 
 to artificial eloquence, he was always impressive, often 
 pathetic, and sometimes quietly humorous, with a zest 
 and pungency that touched the feelings of the audience 
 to the quick. 
 
 " On more important public occasions, when the 
 principal speech of the day was assigned to him, he dis 
 charged the trust with a tranquil dignity of manner, a 
 serene self-possession, and an amplitude of knowledge 
 and illustration that invariably won the admiration of 
 the spectators. His last address of this kind, delivered 
 on the day of his fatal attack, at the unveiling of the 
 bust of Mazzini in Central Park, was a masterpiece of 
 descriptive oratory, unsurpassed by any of his previous 
 efforts for a similar purpose. Never was there a more 
 just or feeling tribute to the Italian patriot. Seldom 
 has been presented a more discriminating analysis of a 
 great political career, or a finer portraiture of the ad 
 mirable qualities of a noble and heroic personage." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 PUBLIC HONORS. 
 
 THOUGH occupied most of liis life in shaping 
 the opinions of his country people upon questions 
 of public policy, Bryant never held any political 
 office or dignity. 1 Under a popular government, 
 the representative man is usually as near to the 
 average of the popular intelligence and morality 
 as the machinery provided for ascertaining public 
 opinion permits. Our government s trusts are 
 therefore rarely confided, or its honors bestowed, 
 upon the comparatively restricted class of " supe 
 rior men," and for the very sufficient reason that 
 this class would not fairly represent the wishes of 
 the great majority, which it is the proper function 
 of popular governments to consult. There are 
 none, probably, who would hesitate to admit that 
 Bryant s standards, morally and intellectually, were 
 too far above the average of his countrymen to 
 make him in any political sense a representative 
 man. Niagara is not a representative waterfall. 
 
 1 His brief discharge of the duties of Tithing-man, Town 
 Clerk, and Justice of the Peace during the moulting season of his 
 career as a lawyer at Great Barringtou hardly suffices to qualify 
 this statement. 
 
216 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 It is not easy to conceive of any important public 
 station in which Bryant would have proved accept 
 able to so large a number as many of his contem 
 poraries, in both those respects his inferiors, would 
 have proved, or of any public office which would 
 not have gained from him more dignity and con 
 sideration than it could confer. 
 
 Republics in our day and " with all the modern 
 improvements " have in this respect no particular 
 advantage over any of their predecessors. The 
 stream of popular favor never rises higher than 
 its fountain, and public honors, like kissing, go as 
 much by favor now as when Caesar s barber was 
 made a senator, and honored witli a gorgeous mon 
 ument for his noisy hostility to Pompey. 1 
 
 Though Bryant never received, nor if offered 
 would probably have accepted, any of those honors 
 and distinctions which are commonly regarded as 
 the only satisfactory reward of the successful poli- 
 
 1 Some Roman wag proposed the following epitaph for the 
 tomb of this barber, whose name was Licinus : 
 
 " Marmoreo Licinus tumulo jacet, at Cato parvo, 
 Pompeius nullo ; " 
 
 which may be thus Englished : - 
 
 " For Licinus we built a tomb of marble, oh how tall ! 
 For Cato but a lifctle one, for great Pompey none at all." 
 
 This epitaph recalls the fact that the commissioners of the New- 
 York Central Park, in order to prevent the erection of a monu 
 mental statue within its precincts to the notorious Tweed, made 
 a rule that no monument should be placed in the Park in honor of 
 any one who had not been dead five years, which rule for that 
 period, at least, excluded a bust of Bryant which was offered to 
 the commissioners, and before that time expired Tweed was in 
 the Tombs. 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 217 
 
 tician, he had no lack of public distinction and 
 popular consideration, such, too, as governments 
 have not to give. 
 
 Upon his return in 1836 from his first trip to 
 Europe, he was invited to accept a public dinner 
 by the most eminent literary men in the country, 
 Irving, Halleck, Verplanck, and Paulding head 
 ing the list, that " they might express their high 
 sense of his literary merits and estimable charac 
 ter," and congratulate him upon his safe return. 
 
 Out of the excess of his modesty Bryant de 
 clined this honor. " I cannot but feel," he said in 
 his reply, " that although it might be worthily 
 conferred upon one whose literary labors had con 
 tributed to raise the reputation of his country, 1 
 I who have passed the period of my absence only 
 in observation and study have done nothing to 
 merit such a distinction." 
 
 While absent in Europe in 1858, he was elected 
 a Regent of the University of the State of New 
 York. The mail following that which bore to 
 him the intelligence brought me the following let 
 ter : 
 
 " MY DEAR SIR, I learn, through the news 
 papers, that I have been elected by the New York 
 Legislature a Regent of the University. I will 
 not affect to undervalue the favorable opinion of 
 so respectable a public body, manifested in so 
 spontaneous a manner, without the least solicita- 
 
 1 Obviously alluding to what Irving- had done during- his ab 
 sence in Europe, and who did accept a dinner upon his return. 
 
218 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 tion on the part of my friends, and I beg that this 
 letter may be used as an expression of my best 
 thanks. 
 
 " There are, however, many motives which make 
 it necessary for me to decline the appointment, 
 and among these are my absence from the country, 
 the inconvenience of combining the duties of the 
 place with the pursuits in which I am engaged 
 when at home, and my aversion to any form of 
 public life now, by my long habit made, I fear, in 
 vincible. I therefore desire by this letter to re 
 turn the appointment to the kind hands which 
 have sought to confer it upon me, confident that 
 some worthier person will easily be found, who 
 will bring the necessary alacrity to "the perform 
 ance of its duties. 
 
 " I am, dear sir, very truly yours, 
 
 W. C. BRYANT." 
 
 To JOHN BIGELOW. 
 
 It was no mean compliment to Bryant s emi 
 nence of character that when Abraham Lincoln 
 came to deliver a lecture in New York immedi 
 ately after his famous canvass for the senatorship 
 with Senator Douglas in Illinois, that the politi 
 cians stood aside and Bryant was invited to pre 
 side. " It was worth the journey to the East," 
 said Mr. Lincoln, " to see such a man." 
 
 It has rarely fallen to the lot of any man of let 
 ters to receive during his lifetime a more grateful 
 tribute of affection and respect than was bestowed 
 upon Bryant on his seventieth birthday, November 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 219 
 
 3, 1864. The Century Club, of which he had been 
 one of the founders, resolved to make it the occa 
 sion of a festival in his honor. All the prominent 
 men of letters and artists of the country partici 
 pated. Bancroft, then president of the Century, 
 greeted Bryant on his arrival with a brief address. 
 "Our tribute to you," he said, " is to the poet, but 
 we should not have paid it had we not revered you 
 as a man. Your blameless life is a continuous 
 record of patriotism and integrity; and passing 
 untouched through the fiery conflicts that grow 
 out of the ambition of others, you have, as all 
 agree, preserved a perfect consistency with your 
 self, and an unswerving unselfish fidelity to your 
 convictions." 
 
 Bryant s reply was singularly happy and becom 
 ing, the more so as there was nothing more diffi 
 cult for him than to talk about himself. 
 
 " I thank you, Mr. President," he said, " for 
 the kind words you have uttered, and I thank this 
 good-natured company for having listened to them 
 with so many tokens of assent and approbation. 
 I must suppose, however, that most of this appro 
 bation was bestowed upon the orator rather than 
 upon his subject. He who has brought to the 
 writing of our national history a genius equal to 
 the vastness of the subject has, of course, more 
 than talent enough for humbler tasks. I wonder 
 not, therefore, that he should be applauded this 
 evening for the skill he has shown in embellishing 
 a barren topic. 
 
220 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 " I am congratulated on having completed my 
 seventieth year. Is there nothing ambiguous, 
 Mr. President, in such a compliment? To be 
 congratulated on one s senility! To be congratu 
 lated on having reached that stage of life when 
 the bodily and mental powers pass into decline 
 and decay ! Lear is made by Shakespeare to say, 
 
 " Age is unnecessary ; 
 
 and a later poet, Dr. Johnson, has expressed the 
 same idea in one of his sonorous lines : 
 
 " Superfluous lags the veteran on the stage. 
 
 You have not forgotten, Mr. President, the old 
 Greek saying, 
 
 " Whom the gods love die young, 
 
 nor the passage in Wordsworth : 
 
 . . . u Oh, sir, the good die first, 
 And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, 
 Burn to the socket. 
 
 " Much has been said of the wisdom of Old Age. 
 Old Age is wise, I grant, for itself, but not wise for 
 the community. It is wise in declining new enter 
 prises, for it has not the power nor the time to 
 execute them ; wise in shrinking from difficulty, 
 for it has not the strength to overcome it ; wise in 
 avoiding danger, for it lacks the faculty of ready 
 and swift action, by which dangers are parried and 
 converted into advantages. But this is not wisdom 
 for mankind at large, by whom new enterprises 
 must be undertaken, dangers met, and difficulties 
 surmounted. What a world would this be if it 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 221 
 
 were made up of old men ! generation succeeding 
 generation of hoary ancients who had but a dozen 
 years or perhaps half that time to live ! What 
 new work of good would be attempted ? What 
 existing abuse or evil corrected? What strange 
 subjects would such a world afford for the pencils 
 of our artists groups of superannuated gray- 
 beards basking in the sun through the long days 
 of spring, or huddling like sheep in warm corners 
 in the winter time ; houses with the timbers drop 
 ping apart ; cities in ruins ; roads un wrought and 
 impassable ; weedy gardens and fields with the 
 surface feebly scratched to put in a scanty harvest ; 
 decrepit old men clambering into crazy wagons, 
 perhaps to be run away with, or mounting horses, 
 if they mounted them at all, in terror of being 
 hurled from their backs like a stone from a sling. 
 Well it is that in this world of ours the old men 
 are but a very small minority. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. President, if we could but stop this 
 rushing tide of time that bears us so swiftly 
 onward, and make it flow towards its source ; if we 
 could cause the shadow to turn back on the dial- 
 plate ! I see before me many excellent friends of 
 mine, worthy to live a thousand years, on whose 
 countenances years have set their seal, marking 
 them with the lines of thought and care, and 
 causing their temples to glisten with the frosts of 
 life s autumn. If to any one of them could be 
 restored his glorious prime, his golden youth, with 
 its hyacinthine locks, its smooth, unwrinkled brow, 
 
222 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 its fresh and rounded cheek, its pearly and perfect 
 teeth, its lustrous eyes, its light and bounding step, 
 its frame full of energy, its exulting spirits, its high 
 hopes, its generous impulses, and, added to all 
 these, the experience and fixed principles of mature 
 age, I am sure, Mr. President, that I should start 
 at once to rny feet, and propose that in commemo 
 ration of such a marvel, and by way of congratu 
 lating our friend who was its subject, we should 
 hold such a festivity as the Century has never seen 
 nor will ever see again. Eloquence should bring 
 its highest tribute, and Art its fairest decorations 
 to grace the festival ; the most skillful musicians 
 should be here with all manner of instruments of 
 music, ancient and modern ; we would have sack- 
 but, and trumpet, and shawm, and damsels with 
 dulcimers, and a modern band three times as large 
 as the one that now plays on that balcony. But 
 why dwell on such a vain dream, since it is only by 
 passing through the darkness that overhangs the 
 Valley of the Shadow of Death that man can reach 
 his second youth ? 
 
 * I have read, in descriptions of the Old World, of 
 the families of princes and barons coming out of 
 their castles to be present at some rustic festivity, 
 such as a wedding of one of their peasantry. I am 
 reminded of this custom by the presence of many 
 literary persons of eminence in these rooms, and I 
 thank them for this act of benevolence. Yet I 
 miss among them several whom I had wished rather 
 than ventured to hope that I should meet on this 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 223 
 
 occasion. I miss my old friend Dana, who gave so 
 grandly the story of the Buccaneer in his solemn 
 verses. I miss Pierpont, venerable in years, yet 
 vigorous in mind and body, and with an undimmed 
 fancy ; and him whose pages are wet with the tears 
 of maidens who read the story of Evangeline ; and 
 the author of 4 Fanny and the Croakers, no less 
 renowned for the fiery spirit which animated his 
 Marco Bozzaris; and him to whose wit we owe the 
 4 Biglow Papers, who has made a lowly flower of 
 the wayside as classical as the rose of Anacreon ; 
 and the Quaker poet, whose verses, Quaker as he 
 is, stir the blood like the voice of a trumpet calling 
 to battle ; and the poetess of Hartford, whose 
 beautiful lyrics are in a million hands, and others, 
 whose names, were they to occur to me here as in 
 my study, I might accompany with the mention of 
 some characteristic merit. But here is he whose 
 aerial verse has raised the little insect of our fields 
 making his murmuring journey from flower to 
 flower, the humble-bee, to a dignity equal to that of 
 Pindar s eagle ; here is the Autocrat of the Break 
 fast Table author of that most spirited of naval 
 lyrics, beginning with the line : - 
 
 " Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ; 
 
 here, too, is the poet who told in pathetic verse the 
 story of Jephtha s daughter ; and here are others, 
 worthy compeers of those I have mentioned, yet 
 greatly my juniors, in the brightness of whose rising 
 fame I am like one who has carried a lantern in 
 
224 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 the night, and who perceives that its beams are no 
 longer visible in the glory which the morning pours 
 around him. 
 
 " To them and to all the members of the Century, 
 allow me. Mr. President, to offer the wish that they 
 may live longer than I have done, in health of body 
 and mind, and in the same contentment and serenity 
 of spirit which has fallen to my lot. I must not 
 overlook the ladies who have deigned to honor 
 these rooms with their presence. If I knew where, 
 amid, myrtle bowers and flowers that never wither, 
 gushed from the ground the Fountain of Perpetual 
 Youth so long vainly sought by the first Spanish 
 adventurers on the North American continent, I 
 would offer to the lips of every one of them a 
 beaker of its fresh and sparkling waters, and bid 
 them drink unfading bloom. But since that is not 
 to be, I will wish what, perhaps, is as well, and 
 what some would think better, that the same kind 
 ness of heart which has prompted them to come 
 hither to-night may lend a beauty to every action 
 of their future lives. And to the Century itself, 
 the clear old Century, to whose members I owe 
 both the honors and the embarrassments of this 
 occasion, to that association, fortunate in having 
 possessed two such presidents as the distinguished 
 historian who now occupies the chair and the 
 eminent and accomplished scholar and admirable 
 writer who preceded him, I offer the wish that it 
 may endure, not only for the term of years signi 
 fied by its name, not for one century only, but 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 225 
 
 for ten centuries, so that hereafter, perhaps, its 
 members may discuss the question whether its 
 name should not be changed to that of the Club of 
 a Thousand Years, and that these may be centuries 
 of peace and prosperity, from which its members 
 may look back to this period of bloody strife, as to 
 a frightful dream soon chased away by the beams 
 of a glorious morning." 
 
 But the tributes from others, present or absent, 
 were naturally the more significant features of the 
 occasion. Poems were read by Dr. Holmes, Bay 
 ard Taylor, Boker, Stoddard, T. Buchanan Read, 
 Julia Ward Howe. Other poems were read from 
 Whittier, Lowell, H. T. Tuckerman, Dr. Allen, 
 Rev. H. N. Powers, and several others who were 
 unavoidably absent. Letters of congratulation 
 were also read from the Dan as, Everett, Long 
 fellow, Pierpont, Verplanck, Halleck, Sprague, 
 Charles T. Brooks, Miss Sedgwick, Goldwin 
 Smith, Dr. Walker, Bishop Coxe, and others with 
 whose names the public is less familiar. 
 
 Of Dr. Holmes s verses, which were illuminated 
 by the earnestness with which they were pro 
 nounced, the following were in his happiest vein : 
 
 How can we praise the verse whose music flows 
 With solemn cadence and majestic close, 
 Pure as the dew that niters through the rose ? 
 
 How shall we thank him that in evil days 
 
 He faltered never, nor for blame nor praise, 
 
 Nor hire, nor party, shamed his earlier lays ? 
 
226 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 11 But as his boyhood was of manliest hue, 
 So to his youth, his manly years were true, 
 All dyed in royal purple through and through ! 
 
 " Marbles forget their message to mankind : 
 In his own verse the poet still we find, 
 In his own page his memory lives enshrined, 
 
 " As in their amber sweets the smothered bees, 
 As the fair cedar, fallen before the breeze, 
 Lies self -embalmed amidst the mouldering trees." 
 
 Emerson s speech concluded as follows. " Be 
 fore I sit down, let me apply to him a verse ad 
 dressed by Thomas Moore to the poet Crabbe, 
 and Moore has written few better : 
 
 True bard, and simple as the race 
 Of heaven-born poets always are, 
 When stooping from their starry place 
 They re children near but gods afar. " 
 
 Of the following lines from a poem of the Eev. 
 H. N. Powers, all who are familiar with Bryant s 
 poetry will recognize the peculiar felicity. 
 
 " Earth s face is dearer for thy gaze, 
 
 The fields that thou hast traveled o er 
 Are fuller blossomed, and the ways 
 Of toil more pleasant than before. 
 
 " The April pastures breathe more sweet, 
 
 The brooks in deeper musings glide, 
 Old woodlands grander hymns repeat, 
 And holier seems the Autumn-tide. 
 
 " The crystal founts and summer rains 
 
 Are haunted now with pictured grace, 
 
 The winds have learned more tender strains 
 
 And greet us with more kind embrace. 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 227 
 
 " More meekly pleads each flowret s eye, 
 
 On gentler errands comes the snow, 
 And birds write on the evening- sky 
 More gracious lessons as they go. 
 
 "The clouds, the stars, the sea, the grave, 
 
 Wide prairie wastes and crowded marts, 
 All that is fair, and good, and brave, 
 In peaceful homes and gen rous hearts, 
 
 " Through thee their wondrous meanings tell : 
 
 And as men go to work and pray 
 Feeling thy song s persuasive spell 
 
 Love s face seems closer o er their way/ 
 
 The Kev. John Pierpont, who was prevented by 
 age and infirmities from coming to the festival, sent 
 a letter, from which the following is an extract : 
 
 " At first I said within my heart I 11 go 
 But second thoughts forbade me to engage, 
 At such a time, in such a pilgrimage, 
 My health infirm, and my age 
 
 (For more than half my eightieth year is spent) 
 Admonish me to stay at home content, 
 And worship, like the Sabian, from afar, 
 Kissing my hand towards our brightest star." 
 
 Lowell, detained at home by a serious domestic 
 affliction, sent some verses of which it was the 
 least of their merits that they paid the tribute of a 
 discriminating homage to a senior brother of Par 
 nassus entitled " On Board the Seventy-Six." 
 
 " Our ship lay tumbling in an angry sea, 
 Her rudder gone, her main-mast o er the side ; 
 Her scuppers from the waves clutch staggering free, 
 Trailed threads of priceless crimson through the tide ; 
 Sails, shrouds, and spars with hostile cannon torn, 
 We lay awaiting morn. 
 
228 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 " Awaiting morn, such morn as mocks despair ; 
 And she that bore the promise of the world 
 Within her sides, now hopeless, helmless, bare, 
 At random o er the wildering waters hurled, 
 The wreck of battle drifting slow a-lee, 
 Not sullener than we. 
 
 " But one there was, the Singer of our crew, 
 Upon whose head Age waved his peaceful sign, 
 But whose red heart s-blood no surrender knew ; 
 And couchant under brows of massive line, 
 The eyes, like guns beneath a parapet, 
 Watched, charged with lightnings yet. 
 
 " The voices of the hills did his obey ; 
 
 The torrents flashed and tumbled in his song ; 
 He brought our native fields from far away, 
 Or set us mid the innumerable throng 
 Of dateless woods, or where we heard the calm 
 Old homesteads evening psalm. 
 
 * But now he sang of faith to things unseen, 
 Of freedom s birthright given to us in trust, 
 And words of doughty cheer he spoke between, 
 That made all earthly fortune seem as dust, 
 Matched with that duty, old as time and new, 
 Of being brave and true. 
 
 "We, listening, learned what makes the might of words, 
 Manhood to back them, constant as a star ; 
 His voice rammed home our cannon, edged our swords, 
 And sent our boarders shouting ; shroud and spar 
 Heard him and stiffened ; the sails heard and wooed 
 The winds with loftier mood. 
 
 " In our dark hour he manned our guns again ; 
 
 Remanned ourselves from his own manhood s store ; 
 Pride, honor, country, throbbed through all his strain ; 
 And shall we praise ? God s praise was his before ; 
 And on our futile laurels he looks down, 
 Himself our bravest crown." 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 229 
 
 N. P. Willis, in his letter accepting the invita 
 tion of the Century Club, said of Bryant : 
 
 " His present eminence among all parties, as the un 
 questioned first poet of the country, has been gained by 
 him in connection with a career which has its daily 
 trials and temptations, a career which no one but an 
 experienced editor of a newspaper would be likely fully 
 to appreciate. Let me call the attention of the brother 
 poets who are to celebrate his birthday to the un- 
 dimmed lustre of the laurels worn so long. . . . For 
 him to have thus set himself the task, and come from it 
 as does Bryant, the acknowledged most independently 
 reliable editor, as well as the most irreproachable first 
 poet, is an example not given us by the ancients." 
 
 Stoddard s admirable lines were read by Bayard 
 Taylor. The spirit of them may be gathered from 
 the first seven stanzas. 
 
 "VATES PATRLE." 
 November 3, 1794 November 3, 1864. 
 
 There came a woman in the night, 
 
 When winds were whist, and moonlight smiled, 
 Where, in his mother s arms who slept, 
 There lay a new-born child. 
 
 She gazed at him with loving looks, 
 
 And while- her hand upon his head 
 She laid, in blessing and in power, 
 In slow, deep words she said : 
 
 " This child is mine. Of all my sons 
 
 Are none like what the lad shall be, 
 Though these are wise, and those are strong, 
 And all are dear to me. 
 
230 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 " Beyond their arts of peace and war 
 
 The gift that unto him belongs, 
 To see my face, to read my thoughts, 
 To learn my silent songs. 
 
 " The elder sisters of my race 
 
 Shall taunt no more that I am dumb ; 
 Hereafter I shall sing through him, 
 In ages yet to come ! 
 
 She stooped and kissed his baby mouth, 
 
 Whence came a breath of melody, 
 As from the closed leaves of a rose 
 The murmur of a bee ! 
 
 Thus did she consecrate the child, 
 
 His more than mother from that hour, 
 Albeit at first he knew her not, 
 
 Nor guessed his sleeping power. 
 
 Edward Everett wrote a cordial letter, the more 
 cordial from the fact that upon questions of public 
 policy growing out of the slavery controversy Mr. 
 Bryant and he had not been in sympathy. Among 
 other things, he said : " The taste, the culture, and 
 the patriotism of the country are, on this occasion, 
 in full sympathy alike with those who weave and 
 with him who wears the laurel wreath. Happy 
 the community that has the discernment to appre 
 ciate its gifted sons, happy the poet, the artist, 
 the scholar, who is permitted to enjoy, in this way, 
 a foretaste of posthumous commemoration and 
 fame ! " 
 
 Boker read some fervent verses, which closed 
 with the following lines : 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 231 
 
 " I have not a prayer 
 
 That would not clamber up the heavenly air, 
 To kneel before the splendor of the Throne, 
 If thus another blessing could be sown 
 In the fair garden of your blooming days, 
 Already fragrant with a nation s praise, 
 Bright with the wreaths the total world hath given 
 And warm with love that s sanctified by Heaven." 
 
 To crown the notable features of this memora 
 ble ovation, the most esteemed artists of the coun 
 try, among them Durand, Huntington, Kensett, 
 Eastman Johnson, Church, Clifford, Gray, Col- 
 man, Lafarge, Leutze, Hennessey, J. G. Brown, 
 Bierstadt, McEntee, and Hicks, united in present 
 ing Bryant with a portfolio of pictures from their 
 respective easels. The presentation was made 
 through Huntington, the president of the Acad 
 emy of Design, in reply to whose brief discourse 
 Mr. Bryant, among other things, said : 
 
 " I shall prize this gift, therefore, not only as 
 a memorial of the genius of our artists, but also 
 as a token of the good will of a class of men for 
 whom I cherish a particular regard and esteem." 
 
 It is worthy of being noted here that there was 
 no journal of importance in the land that did not 
 make the seventieth anniversary of Bryant s birth 
 the theme of respectful and more or less eulogistic 
 and discriminating comment. 
 
 In the winter of 1867, Bryant retired from the 
 presidency of the American Free Trade League, a 
 position which he had held from its origin. In 
 recognition of the services he had rendered to the 
 
232 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 cause, not merely as an officer of the League, but 
 more especially through the columns of his journal, 
 his associates tendered him a public dinner on the 
 30th of January, 1868. All the most prominent 
 free-traders of the country were present, or rep 
 resented there in some form, to testify their ap 
 preciation of the work he had done for the emanci 
 pation of the industry and commerce of the nation. 
 Bryant s address on the occasion, of which we 
 have already cited a, specimen, l was altogether 
 admirable. 
 
 In the spring of 1874, Bryant was elected an 
 honorary member of the Russian Academy of St. 
 Petersburg, where most of his poems had already 
 become known through a translation made by 
 Professor Katejeneff, himself a member of the 
 Academy. 
 
 On reaching his eightieth birthday, there was a 
 spontaneous impulse all over the country to cele 
 brate it. It was finally determined to present him 
 with an address, to be followed, as soon as it could 
 be prepared, by a vase commemorative of his liter 
 ary career. The address, which Mr. Godwin tells 
 us was signed by thousands of names, was pre 
 sented to him at his house in Sixteenth Street by 
 Jonathan Sturges, one of the most estimable and 
 esteemed citizens of New York. 2 In presenting it, 
 he said : 
 
 1 See p. 210. 
 
 2 Mr. Sturges s useful career was terminated by death the fol 
 lowing week. 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. , 233 
 
 " We have come, dear Mr. Bryant, to congratulate 
 you upon reaching the ripe age of eighty years in such 
 vigor of health and intellect ; to thank you for all the 
 good work that you have done for your country and for 
 mankind ; and to give you our best wishes for your hap 
 piness. For more than sixty years you have been an 
 author, and from your first publication to your last you 
 have given to us and our children the best thought and 
 sentiment in the purest language of the English-speak 
 ing race. For more than fifty years you have been a 
 journalist, and advocated the duties as well as the rights 
 of men, with all the genuine freedom, without any of 
 the license, of our age, in an editorial wisdom that has 
 been a blessing to our daughters as well as our sons. 
 You have been a good citizen and true patriot, ready to 
 bear your testimony to the worth of your great literary 
 contemporaries, and steadfast from first to last in your 
 loyalty to the liberty and order of the nation. You 
 have stood up manfully for the justice and humanity 
 that are the hope of mankind and the commandment of 
 God. We thank you for ourselves, for our children, for 
 our country, and for our race, and we commend you to 
 the providence and grace of Him who has always been 
 with you, and who will be with you to the end. We 
 present to you this address of congratulation, with sig 
 natures from all parts of the country, and with the pro 
 posal of a work of commemorative art that shall be 
 sculptured with ideas and images from your poems, and 
 be full of the grateful remembrances and affections of 
 the friends who love you as a friend, and the nation 
 that honors you as the patriarch of our literature." 
 
 Mr. Bryant s reply, brief as it was, was very 
 impressive. After fitly returning thanks for the 
 kind words of the address, he said : 
 
234 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 " I have lived long, as it may seem to most 
 people, however short the term appears to me when 
 I look back upon it. In that period have occurred 
 various most important changes, both political and 
 social, and on the whole I am rejoiced to say that 
 they have, as I think, improved the condition of 
 mankind. The people of civilized countries have 
 become more enlightened, and enjoy a greater de 
 gree of freedom. They have become especially 
 more humane and sympathetic, more disposed to 
 alleviate each other s sufferings. This is the age 
 of charity. In our day, charity has taken forms 
 unknown to former ages, and occupied itself with 
 the cure of evils which former generations neg 
 lected. 
 
 " I remember the time when Bonaparte filled 
 the post of First Consul in the French Republic, 
 for I began early to read the newspapers. I saw 
 how that republic grew into an empire ; how that 
 empire enlarged itself by successive conquests on 
 all sides, and how the mighty mass, collapsing by 
 its own weight, fell into fragments. I have seen 
 from that time to this, change after change take 
 place, and the result of them all, as it seems to me, 
 is that the liberties and rights of the humbler 
 classes have been more and more regarded, both in 
 framing and executing the laws. For the greater 
 part of my own eighty years it seemed to me, and 
 I think it seemed to all, that the extinction of 
 slavery was an event to be accomplished by a re 
 mote posterity. But all this time its end was 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 235 
 
 approaching, and suddenly it sank into a bloody 
 grave. The union of the Italian principalities un 
 der one head, and the breaking up of that anomaly 
 in politics, the possession of political power by a 
 priesthood, seemed, during the greater part of the 
 fourscore years of which I have spoken, an event 
 belonging to a distant and uncertain future, yet 
 was it drawing near by steps not apparent to the 
 common eyes, and it came in our own day. The 
 people of Italy willed it, and the people were 
 obeyed. 
 
 " There is yet a time which good men earnestly 
 hope and pray for, the day when the population 
 of the civilized world shall prepare for a universal 
 peace by disbanding the enormous armies which 
 they keep in camps and garrisons, and sending 
 their soldiery back to the fields and workshops, 
 from which, if the people were wise, their sover 
 eigns never should have withdrawn them. Let us 
 hope that this will be one of the next great 
 changes. 
 
 " Gentlemen, again I thank you for your kind 
 ness. I have little to be proud of, but when I 
 look round upon those whom this occasion has 
 brought together, I confess that I am proud of my 
 friends." 
 
 The vase was presented in the following June. 
 In reply to addresses from Dr. Osgood and from 
 Mr. Whitehouse, the artist, Bryant managed with 
 singular grace and felicity as usual to keep his 
 modesty in the foreground without the least ap- 
 
236 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 pearance of trying to make a virtue of it. After 
 thanking everybody entitled to thanks, and com 
 mending everything entitled to commendation, he 
 said : 
 
 " And now a word concerning the superb vase 
 which is before me, the work of artists who are the 
 worthy successors of Benvenuto Cellini, and emi 
 nent in their department. It has been greatly ad 
 mired by those who have seen it. I remember to 
 have read, I think some half century ago, a defi 
 nition of the term genius, making it to consist 
 in the faculty of accomplishing great results by 
 small means, the power, in short, which an indi 
 vidual has of overcoming difficulties by a forecast 
 and vigor not possessed by others, converting ob 
 stacles into instruments of success. This vase I 
 may call a product of genius both in the design 
 and the execution, for who would suppose that any 
 skill of the artist could connect with such a subject 
 as he had before him images so happily conceived, 
 so full of expression, and so well combining expres 
 sion with grace ? My friends, we authors cultivate 
 a short-lived reputation ; one generation of us 
 pushes another from the stage. The very language 
 in which we write becomes a jargon, and we cease 
 to be read ; but a work like this is always beauti 
 ful, always admired. Age has no power over its 
 charm. Hereafter some one may say. This beau 
 tiful vase was made in honor of a certain Amer 
 ican poet, whose name it bears, but whose writings 
 are forgotten. It is remarkable that so much 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 237 
 
 pains should have been taken to illustrate the life 
 and writings of one whose works are so completely 
 unknown at the present day. Thus, gentlemen 
 artists, I shall be indebted to you for causing the 
 memory of my name to outlast that of my writ 
 ings." 
 
 This anniversary was celebrated in Chicago 
 the same evening by the Chicago Literary Club. 
 This occasion derived a special interest from the 
 presence of the poet s brothers, Arthur and John 
 C. Bryant. The Rev. Dr. Robert Collyer presided ; 
 an admirable address was pronounced by the Rev. 
 Horatio N. Powers, and the Bryant brothers enter 
 tained the company with many reminiscences of 
 the youth of their illustrious brother, from whom 
 an amusing letter was also read. After thanking 
 the club for the honor they were doing him, " to 
 which," he said, " on looking back upon my past 
 life, I feel that I have no claim, and am therefore 
 the more indebted to their generosity," he contin 
 ued : " I cannot be present, but my good wishes 
 will be with the members. I hope that they will 
 find the banquet as pleasant, the conversation as 
 entertaining, the speeches, if any, as eloquent, and 
 the viands as well flavored, as if the members had 
 met to celebrate the birthday of some better man. 
 Now I think of it, there must have been born on 
 the 3d of November a great many excellent per 
 sons, of both sexes, to whose virtuous lives the 
 world is under great obligations. Will not my 
 friends of the Literary Club pass to the credit of 
 
233 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 these persons such share of the honors of their fes 
 tival as I am not worthy of, and thus square the 
 account ? " 
 
 In the winter of 1874-75, Bryant was invited 
 with his family by Governor Tilden to visit him 
 at the Executive Mansion in Albany. Their ac 
 quaintance had commenced when Tilden, a lad in 
 roundabouts, was brought by his father to the of 
 fice of the " Evening Post," in the " heated term " 
 of the United States Bank controversy. Young 
 Tilden soon after came to live in New York, where 
 the acquaintance ripened rapidly into a friendship 
 which never terminated. In the later years of his 
 life, Bryant often spoke of the impressions left 
 upon him by this precocious stripling, whose con 
 siderate manner and conversation made him ap 
 pear but for his size and dress rather the eldest of 
 the party. Bryant learned to attach such value to 
 his judgment that he rarely took any important 
 step, whether in private or professional matters, 
 without counseling with him. 
 
 While a guest of the governor, both branches 
 of the legislature tendered Bryant a public recep 
 tion, a compliment which had never before been 
 paid in this country to a man of letters. Lieu 
 tenant-Govern or Dorsheimer, the president of the 
 Senate, in presenting him to that body said : 
 
 " I need not recall to you the career of your guest. 
 Every American knows the incidents of that long and 
 honorable life. Still less need I impress upon you the 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 239 
 
 merits of his writings. You remember the glowing 
 words with which in his youth he taught the love of 
 nature and the Christian s faith. You have all seen 
 him seated among the lengthening shadows of evening, 
 and heard him repeat in P^nglish as pure as the Eng 
 lish of Addison and Goldsmith Homer s undying song. 
 
 "I know that I utter your heartfelt wishes when I 
 express the hope that the blessings which have been so 
 abundantly given to him may be continued, and that his 
 life may still be spared to the country whose institutions 
 he has defended, whose liberties he has widened, and 
 whose glories he has increased." 
 
 In acknowledging the courtesy of the Senate, 
 of which its president had been the interpreter, 
 Bryant said : 
 
 " You will pardon me if, on rising to say a few 
 words in acknowledgment of the honor conferred 
 upon me, I find myself somewhat embarrassed on 
 account of the novelty of the occasion. There is a 
 little story, a story some two thousand years old, 
 recorded originally in Greek, I believe, for the 
 Greeks had their jest-books as well as the English, 
 in which it is related that a man lost his little 
 child and made a funeral. A considerable con 
 course came together of his friends and acquaint 
 ances, and as he appeared before them he made an 
 apology for the smallness of the infant corpse. 
 [Laughter.] I find myself in a similar condition. 
 I see before me the representatives of the different 
 parts of our great, powerful, and populous State. 
 I see men who come from our rich and beautiful 
 
240 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 valleys, from the grand and picturesque mountain 
 regions of the north of the State, from the banks 
 of our glorious rivers, from the borders of our im 
 mense lakes, from populous towns and pleasant 
 villages ; towns that are the seats of trade and in 
 dustry, cities noisy with the bustle of business and 
 commerce, or resounding with the clash of looms, 
 or the blows of the ponderous hammers in our 
 manufacturing establishments. 
 
 " You come, gentlemen, as representatives of the 
 arts, of the wealth and industry of this great 
 State. On my part I have nothing to offset 
 against this great array, except what you see be 
 fore you, and that is an object certainly dispro 
 portionately small compared with this imposing 
 ceremony. 
 
 lk I have nothing to say, therefore, except to re 
 turn my thanks for the great honor you have done 
 me, and to add my wishes for your future career. 
 My wish is that this session may prove honorable 
 to yourselves and useful to the community ; that 
 it may be closed with credit, and that it may be 
 long remembered for the service it has done and 
 the benefit it has conferred on the State to which 
 you belong." 
 
 Bryant was then presented to the assembly by 
 the Speaker, Mr. McGuire, as one who, " as poet, 
 journalist, sage, statesman, and man, had written 
 his name in ineffaceable letters on the annals of 
 his country and in the hearts of his countrymen." 
 To this, Bryant replied : 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 241 
 
 " Gentlemen of the Assembly : I cannot take 
 to myself the flattering words which have been 
 uttered by the presiding officer of this Assembly. 
 It would be the utmost stretch of self-admiration 
 to do so. You will allow me, therefore, gentle 
 men, to put a great deal of what has been said so 
 well, or a great deal of the honor of the reception, 
 to the credit of old age. Old men, my friends, are 
 rarities, and rarity, you know, is often an element 
 of value. Things that are not useful are some 
 times rated at a high value on account of the cir 
 cumstance that they are rarely to be met with. 
 If pebbles were scarce they would not be picked 
 up and thrown at dogs, but would be sought after 
 and collected by mineralogists, and deposited in 
 cabinets to be gazed at with admiration. 
 
 " I therefore find it proper, and no other than 
 proper, that I should divide a part of this honor 
 the greater part of this honor with those of my 
 colleagues who are remnants of a generation passed 
 away and overlooked in the flood of waters in 
 which we must sink and be submerged. I can 
 therefore only return my sincere thanks for the 
 honor, both in their names and in my own, and 
 to add my best wishes that the deliberations of 
 this Assembly may ever be conclusions just and 
 honest ; that no desire for self-aggrandizement or 
 for pecuniary profit may ever taint its reputation ; 
 and that the labors performed in this session may 
 be hereafter recorded as an honor to you, and to 
 the credit of the State which you represent." 
 
242 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 At the conclusion of his remarks, which were 
 received with a curious enthusiasm, the Assembly 
 adjourned for half an hour, to give the members 
 of both houses an opportunity of being personally 
 presented to their guest. 
 
 In the following year, Tilden was nominated by 
 the Democratic party for the Presidency. It may 
 not be inappropriate here to state that when the 
 propriety of nominating Mr. Tilden for governor 
 was under discussion in 1874, Bryant said to me 
 that he hoped Tilden would accept the nomination 
 if offered, and if he did, that he should vote for 
 him. It was noticeable through the canvass which 
 followed that, though the " Evening Post " sup 
 ported the Republican ticket, not a line appeared 
 in its columns calculated to depreciate Tilden in 
 the estimation of its readers. Whether Bryant 
 voted for Tilden or not I never heard, but I pre 
 sume he did, for he with many others of his party 
 were opposed to the election of President Grant 
 for a third term, and a vote for General Dix, who 
 was the Republican candidate for governor, was 
 generally regarded as equivalent to an approval of 
 the reelection of Grant. 1 
 
 1 The judgment which Bryant formed of Grant, a judgment 
 which history is likely to accept, was thus briefly stated in a let 
 ter to the Rev. Dr. H. N. Powers, dated July 15, 1877 : 
 
 " I am glad to hear anything good of General Grant, and thank 
 you for the anecdote of him given in your letter. His adminis 
 tration was, in modern phraseology, a failure. I am willing to 
 give him credit for any instance of good sense in perceiving his 
 mistakes and frankness in acknowledging them, like that related 
 in your letter. I was bitterly disappointed in General Grant, yet 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 243 
 
 I may also mention here that while Mr. Bryant 
 was a guest of Governor Tilclen at Albany, they 
 were both present at a large dinner party given to 
 the governor on his birthday. Mr. Bryant pro 
 posed Tilden s health, adding that as he had made 
 so good a governor, the public probably would not 
 be displeased if his present position were to prove 
 a stepping-stone to one more elevated. 
 
 By the light of these facts and the great per 
 sonal esteem which I knew Bryant entertained for 
 the governor, I felt encouraged to address him the 
 
 following letter : 
 
 ALBANY, August 27, 1876. 
 
 MY DEAR MR. BRYANT, It has been one of my 
 dreams for several months that your name should head 
 the Tilden Electoral Ticket this fall for the Presidency. 
 It has not been practicable for me to see you since the 
 St. Louis Convention, and I am now obliged to ask the 
 governor s secretary, Mr. Newell, to do me the favor 
 to convey to you the expression of my sincere hope that 
 if named as an elector you will not decline. 
 
 You need not be told how gratifying such a nomi 
 nation would be to Governor Tilden, nor need I reca 
 pitulate to you the many obvious reasons why you should 
 
 I see no reason to doubt his honesty. He had in the beginning 1 of 
 his administration, I think, some notions of what he ought to do, 
 but they were not very clear, and the people he had about him, 
 and who were not chosen as his associate, with the sagacity which 
 I expected, contrived to confuse them still farther, and at last he 
 gave us an administration with all the faults of the worst which 
 had preceded it. But his part in the history of his country is at 
 an end, and I suppose that the merits of his military career will 
 be hereafter more looked at than the errors of his political ad 
 ministration. 
 
244 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 desire to oblige his friends, a large proportion of whom 
 are your pupils, with the use of your name. 
 
 The course of the " Evening Post," of course, some 
 what disappoints me and others who like me embarked 
 in this effort at administrative reform for no mere per 
 sonal ends. To all such it would be an unspeakable 
 satisfaction to know that you would not decline to charge 
 yourself with the duty of taking their vote to Washing 
 ton and depositing it for the candidates who in their 
 judgment represent the best hope of the country. 
 
 Let me pray that if the convention which is to meet on 
 Wednesday next should desire, you will not pain your 
 friends by refusing them and your country this service. 
 
 I remain as ever, my dear Mr. Bryant, 
 
 Very sincerely yours, JOHN BIGELOW. 
 
 To this appeal I received the following disap 
 pointing though not altogether unexpected reply : 
 " CUMMINGTON, MASS., August 28, 1878. 
 
 " MY DEAR MR. BIGELOW, Your letter of yes 
 terday which has just been put into my hands was 
 an utter surprise to me. There are many reasons 
 why I must decline allowing my name to be placed 
 on the Tilden Electoral Ticket, some of which you 
 will, I think, understand without my referring to 
 them. Others relate to the character and composi 
 tion of the two political parties in the field, and to 
 the letters of acceptance written by the two candi 
 dates for the Presidency. Such as they are, they 
 constrain me with a force which I cannot resist to 
 decline acting on the suggestions made in your let 
 ter. It gives me great pain to refuse anything to 
 the friends of a man whom I esteem and honor as 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 245 
 
 I do Mr. Tilden, whom I know to be so highly ac 
 complished for the most eminent political stations, 
 whose opinions of the proper province and objects 
 of legislation and government have been formed in 
 the same school as my own, and who, so far as he is 
 not obstructed by the party to which he belongs, 
 will, I am sure, act not only with ability and integ 
 rity, but with wisdom, in any post to which the 
 voice of his countrymen may call him. 
 44 I am, dear sir, 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 W. C. BRYANT." 
 
 HON. JOHN BIGELOW. 
 
 Though I was satisfied in my own mind that 
 Bryant regarded Tilden as in every respect much 
 the fitter of the two candidates for the Presidency, 
 I did not underestimate the difficulties which he 
 would encounter in publicly associating himself 
 with the fortunes of a candidate which the journal 
 he was supposed to, but in fact did not then, con 
 trol 1 would be doing its utmost to defeat. When 
 I wrote to him, I was not aware that a few days 
 before the receipt of my letter the following corre 
 spondence had passed between him and a Republi 
 can friend, which must have made it practically 
 impossible for him to entertain my proposal, even 
 though, but for such correspondence, he might have 
 been not indisposed to embrace it. 
 
 1 The Evening Post had, a few years before, been converted 
 into a stock company, of which Bryant owned only half, but not 
 a majority, of the shares. 
 
246 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 NEW YORK, August 23, 1876. 
 
 MY DEAR MR. BRYANT, I notice by the press 
 that you still linger at Cummington, where I hope that 
 you are enjoying the nature you so well depict, and 
 take all the comfort you so well deserve. In a casual 
 conversation with Mr. Henderson l a few days since, I 
 mentioned the impression that prevailed that he was 
 now the editor in fact, as his son-in-law, Sperry, was 
 managing editor of the u Post." He said that nothing 
 could be more incorrect, that Mr. Bryant was the re 
 sponsible editor, and inspired as he controlled the polit 
 ical course. I suppose this impression, which prevails 
 to a considerable extent, arises from the fact of Mr. 
 Henderson s supposed controlling influence in the stock 
 of the " Post," as well as your known friendship for 
 Governor Tilden, for whose election both Mr. Godwin 
 and Bigelow are lending their influence. I do not know 
 that you care about all this, but there are a good many 
 intelligent and independent voters who depend some 
 what on the coming of the " Post " to lead them to act 
 wisely at the coming election, but they want to know if 
 Mr. Bryant and the " Post " are still as of yore one and 
 the same. Mr. Henderson knows of my writing you 
 this letter, saying you would confirm what he said to 
 me, which I have quoted to you. 
 
 Faithfully yours, J. C. DERBY. 
 
 "CUMMINGTON, MASS., August 28, 1876. 
 
 " To J. C. DERBY, ESQ. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, I do not wonder, that many 
 thoughtful persons are undecided as to which 
 
 1 Isaac Henderson, a stockholder and the business manager of 
 the Evening Post. 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 247 
 
 candidate they shall support in the coming elec 
 tion of President. Both parties aim at the same 
 ends. Which has the best candidate or which 
 party can be most depended upon to adopt and 
 enforce the necessary measures are the questions 
 which people are asking. If you look only to the 
 candidate, Mr. Tilden is the best, the most of a 
 statesman, the soundest and most enlarged in 
 opinion, and, I think, of the firmest character. If 
 you look at the parties by which the candidates 
 are brought forward, the Republican party is the 
 most to be relied on although both parties, 
 judged by the proceedings of their representatives 
 in Congress, are greatly degenerate, and whichever 
 of them obtain the ascendancy, those who look for 
 a complete radical, thorough reform will be disap 
 pointed. Some changes will doubtless be made 
 for the better, but those who expect all abuses in 
 the administration of the government to be done 
 away will find their mistake.. As to the hard 
 money question, it seems to me that it is safest 
 with the Republicans. The Democratic party of 
 the West is deeply infected with the inflation 
 heresy. It is now smothered temporarily, but as 
 soon as the election is over it will break out again 
 with violence. The Republican party is most free 
 from its influence. As to the civil service reform, 
 which both parties profess to desire, Mr. Tilden 
 has not pledged himself to abstain from the vi 
 cious practice of turning out indiscriminately all 
 whom he shall find in office in case he is elected. 
 
248 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 He only promises to look carefully into their char 
 acters and qualifications. I infer that all whom 
 he finds in office must go out. Who will answer 
 for him that all whom he appoints will be worthy 
 of their places ? Thousands and tens of thousands 
 will flock to Washington for these places, all of 
 them good 4 Democrats, and it will be absolutely 
 astonishing if a large number of those who are 
 appointed do not turn out to be rogues. Hayes, 
 who only promises to send adrift the unworthy, 
 will have an easier task, and leisure to exercise a 
 just discrimination. As to the revenue laws, which 
 are without doubt one cause of the hard times, 
 neither Mr. Tilden nor Mr. Hayes has spoken of 
 any reform to be made. Perhaps the chance of 
 an enlightened revision of these laws is best in 
 case the Democrats obtain the ascendancy, but how 
 slight the prospect of such a revision is I leave to 
 be inferred from the late proceedings of the Demo 
 cratic House of Representatives. You see, there 
 fore, that when we come to compare the prospect 
 of reform under one of the two parties with that 
 under the other, a man who is slow in forming 
 conclusions might be forgiven for hesitating. Yet 
 the greater number of those dissatisfied Republi 
 cans who came to the Fifth Avenue Conference, 
 including most of the wisest heads among them, 
 have acquiesced in the nomination of Hayes. The 
 Cincinnati Convention did riot give them all they 
 wanted, but came so near to it that they thought 
 it the wisest course to be content, and not to sepa- 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 249 
 
 rate from the party with which they had hitherto 
 acted. I thought the same thing in regard to the 
 Evening Post, namely, that it would not be 
 well to detach itself from the party which had car 
 ried the country through the civil war until it was 
 forced to do so by the signs of a hopeless degen 
 eracy. There may have been some things in the 
 4 Evening Post which I have not agreed with al 
 together, being at so great a distance from it that 
 I could not be expected to influence it in every 
 thing, but, in the main, it has treated Mr. Tilden 
 with marked respect. 
 
 Yours truly, W. C. BRYANT/ 
 
 A friend of Tilden s to whom the last letter was 
 shown called Bryant s attention to the fact that 
 the most conspicuous, and the only conspicuous, 
 case of civil service reform which had been wit 
 nessed in the whole country up to that time had 
 occurred under Tilden s administration, and right 
 under his eyes at Albany ; that his Secretary of 
 State had selected as Superintendent of the Census 
 a Republican, 1 upon the advice of the Hon. Fran 
 cis A. Walker, Superintendent of the Federal 
 Censuses of 1870 and 1880, also a Republican ; 
 that all his clerks, at one time over eighty in num 
 ber, were selected by a competitive examination in 
 which this Republican superintendent was the sole 
 arbiter, and that three fourths at least of all the 
 clerks consisted of Republicans. 
 
 1 The late C. W. Seaton, who was afterwards associated with 
 Francis A. Walker in digesting the census of 1880, and subse- 
 qiiently succeeded him as superintendent. 
 
250 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 It was subsequent to, and doubtless in conse 
 quence of, this information that Bryant supple 
 mented his first letter to Derby with the follow- 
 ing: 
 
 " CUMMINGTON, MASS., September 4, 1876. 
 
 " DEAR MR. DERBY, I did not write my pre 
 vious letter for publication, and beg that you will 
 not let the press get hold of it. I have a fear that 
 I may have done injustice to Mr. Tilden in regard 
 to the reformation of the civil service. If so, his 
 letter of acceptance was the cause. I looked it 
 over for some condemnation of the bad practice, 
 so long followed, of turning out of office all the 
 men of the beaten party after an election. I found 
 no such condemnation, and inferred that he meant 
 to leave himself at liberty to follow the practice. 
 I have since learned that he had in many instances 
 appointed men of the Republican party to office in 
 his gift, solely on account of their competency and 
 character. This was nobly done, but he will have 
 great difficulty in resisting the pressure which 
 will be brought to bear upon him, in order to force 
 him to make a clean sweep of the public offices 
 and fill them with men of his own party. I am 
 willing, however, to take this as a proof of Mr. 
 Tilden s present disposition, and hope that it will 
 not be overcome by the force which will assuredly 
 be brought against it. 
 
 Yours very truly, W. C. BRYANT." 
 
 Mr. Godwin tells us " Mr. Bryant voted at the 
 election in November, but how he voted no one was 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 251 
 
 ever able to learn. Members of each of the lead 
 ing parties claimed his name, but when himself 
 questioned on the subject, he smiled, and said that 
 the ballot was a secret institution." 
 
 Mr. Godwin is correct in stating that Bryant 
 voted at the election in November, but not quite 
 correct in implying that he voted for either Presi 
 dential candidate. He did not vote the Electoral 
 ticket at all. If I had not this assurance upon 
 perfectly competent authority, I think it could be 
 fairly inferred from the situation. Had Bryant 
 voted for Hayes, the candidate of his party, there 
 would have been no occasion to make a mystery of 
 it. Neither would he ever have been guilty of any 
 thing so much like duplicity as to vote secretly for 
 Tilden, while before the world in his paper he was 
 understood to be recommending Hayes to the sup 
 port of his readers. Had he voted for Tilden, the 
 readers of the " Evening Post," at least, were cer 
 tain to be the first to be taken into his confidence. 
 He preferred Tilden to Hayes as a President, but 
 the Republican to the Democratic as a party. 
 
 Only a few days after the election, he wrote to a 
 lady in Scotland : 
 
 " This is Evacuation Day, the day when in the 
 Revolutionary War we saw the last of the red- 
 coated soldiery. But we celebrate it no longer ; we 
 have other things to think of now ; we have chosen 
 a President, and are trying to find out who it is. 
 We shall be gainers at any rate. Let who will be 
 awarded the Presidency, his administration is sure 
 
252 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 to be better than the present one. I have never 
 before felt so little interest in a contest for the 
 Presidency. Both parties profess to have the same 
 ends in view ; both have put up able and well-in 
 tentioned men for candidates. Tilden is the abler 
 and the more thoroughly a statesman, and I think 
 the more persistent of the two in any course he has 
 marked out for himself ; but his party has suffered 
 in character by the late rebellion, which forced 
 many of the best people to join the Republican 
 party." 
 
 In November, 1877, the Goethe Club gave Bryant 
 a reception, at which the Rev. W. R. Alger deliv 
 ered an elaborate address. On closing, he said : 
 
 " And now, Mr. Bryant, we thank you for consenting 
 to allow us this pleasant opportunity for greeting and 
 meeting you, and expressing something of our feeling 
 towards you. May the guardian fellowship of God sur 
 round you and crown you with every gracious gift until 
 the end." 
 
 The length of the addresses which were made at 
 
 o 
 
 and about him were a little embarrassing to Mr. 
 Bryant, who was made by the force of circum 
 stances an assenting party to a sort of conspiracy 
 to praise him ; but he disengaged his responsibil 
 ity and modesty together by some felicitous banter 
 about old age, behind which he was fond of tak 
 ing refuge, and which proved in the later years of 
 his life an inexhaustible fountain of amusement 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 253 
 
 as well as o excuses. After thanking Mr. Alger 
 and Dr. Ruppaner, the president of the Club, for 
 the compliments they had paid him, but which he 
 insisted that he could not accept as his due, he 
 went on : 
 
 " You will therefore allow me to ascribe the 
 kindness which has been shown me this evening to 
 a cause which you will admit to be sufficiently ob 
 vious, namely, to the long life which I have led, 
 the late old age which I have reached, an ex 
 istence prolonged considerably beyond the common 
 lot. One who has passed rather inoffensively be 
 yond the milestones which mark the stages of life 
 up tc- fourscore is looked upon by the rest of man 
 kind with a certain compassionate feeling. He 
 cannot do much more mischief, they naturally and 
 justly think, and therefore may safely be praised. 
 His further stay upon the earth is necessarily short, 
 and it is therefore a charitable thing to make that 
 short stay pleasant. Beside, he has become, by rea 
 son of his very few coevals, a sort of curiosity, a 
 rare instance, and rarity often gives value and 
 price to things which are in themselves intrinsically 
 worthless. 
 
 " Let me pursue this thought a little further. 
 There have been various attempts to give a concise 
 definition of the term man, founded on some pe 
 culiarity which distinguishes the human race from 
 all other animals, our fellow-inhabitants, of this 
 planet. Some have defined man as a talking animal, 
 notwithstanding the instance of the parrot, a bird 
 
254 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 which sometimes talks as well as certain members 
 of Congress ; some as a laughing animal, although 
 there is a laughing hyena ; and some as a cooking 
 animal, the only animal that roasts chestnuts, 
 overlooking the ancient tradition of the monkey 
 who used the paws* of the cat to draw the nuts from 
 the fire. I will venture to give another definition, 
 to which, I think, no objection can well be made. 
 I would define man as the animal that delights in 
 
 o 
 
 antiquities. No other creature gathers up the rel 
 ics of past years and deposits them in museums 
 and guards them with care and points them out to 
 the wonder of others. It is only man who digs 
 among the ruins of cities destroyed long ago, in 
 order to unearth the domestic implements and per 
 sonal adornments of the human race when it was 
 yet in its infancy, as Schliemann and others are 
 doing, thinking themselves fortunate in proportion 
 to the rudeness and clumsiness, in other words the 
 antiquity, of these objects. If we were to hear of 
 monkeys turning up the earth among old tombs in 
 search of the earrings and necklaces of those who 
 lived in the time of the Trojan war, we should be 
 struck with amazement, and word would at once be 
 sent to Darwin by his disciples that here was a 
 new proof of the doctrine of evolution. 
 
 " But older than Priam and Agamemnon are the 
 remains of the lake dwellers of a distant period of 
 the world s history, when men lived in habitations 
 built on floats over the water, and used only im 
 plements of stone, the use of metals not being yet 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 255 
 
 discovered. Stone axes and stone spear-heads have 
 been fished up from the mud of these waters, the 
 tokens of a time when warriors hammered each 
 other to death with rude weapons of flint and 
 granite. These have been diligently collected and 
 daintily handled and laid up in cabinets of curios 
 ities, and gazed at and wondered at and made 
 the subject of books and elaborate treatises, and 
 lighter magazine articles. All their value consists 
 in the many years which have elapsed since they 
 were shaped by the workmen of a rude and simple 
 age. 
 
 " Offer one of these stone axes to a woodman to 
 be used in his vocation, and he would reject it with 
 scorn. He might by great efforts bruise down a 
 tree with it, but he could not be said to cut it 
 down. Offer it to a butcher that he may use it in 
 felling an ox, and he would laugh at the clumsy 
 implement, and demand an axe of metal. Rejected 
 as it would be for lack of utility in ministering to 
 our necessities or our comforts, it is yet made 
 much of ; it is written about and talked about, and 
 men see in it a whole chapter of the history of 
 mankind. 
 
 " I have thus shown how natural it is that those 
 who are left to grow very old become by that cir 
 cumstance alone the objects of kind attention. For 
 such testimonials of this kindness as I have re 
 ceived this evening I return, along with my ac 
 knowledgments, my good wishes also. May you 
 all who hear me yet become antiquities, not after 
 
256 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 the fashion of the stone axes which I have de 
 scribed, but after the manner of the pole star, 
 which, century after century, has guided by its use 
 ful light the navigator on the sea and the wanderer 
 on the land. May you become antiquities like the 
 venerable mountains, which attract the clouds and 
 gather the rains into springs and rivulets, and send 
 them down to give life and refreshment to the 
 fields below. May you become antiquities like the 
 blessed and ancient sun, which ripens the harvests 
 of the earth for successive generations of mankind, 
 and at the end of every day leaves in the western 
 sky a glorious memory of his genial brightness." 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say that this address 
 was followed with great applause, the greater for 
 the skill with which Bryant saved his personal dig 
 nity without the slightest sacrifice of his imper 
 turbable good nature. 
 
 It is not only on these exceptional occasions to 
 which we have referred that the evidences of re 
 spect, admiration, and reverence for Bryant as a 
 poet, as a journalist, and as a man are to be 
 sought ; they welled up more or less profusely 
 from every fountain of public opinion throughout 
 the country. He was an honorary member of 
 pretty much every Historical, Philosophical, Anti 
 quarian, and Statistical society ; of every Academy 
 of Artists and Men of Letters, and of every col 
 lege society in the United States of sufficient con 
 sideration to feel at liberty to proffer the compli 
 ment. 
 
PUBLIC HONORS. 257 
 
 The homage that is paid to a public man who 
 has offices and honors to bestow, whose smile con 
 fers credit and influence, and whose frown may 
 threaten disaster, is always more or less tainted 
 with the suspicion that it is to the functionary and 
 not to the man it is paid. So the homage that is 
 paid to the dead is often much more liberal than 
 to the living, from the fact that the object of it is 
 no longer in any one s way, and praising him inter 
 feres with no one s advancement, and affords an 
 eligible opportunity of earning a reputation for 
 magnanimity at a trifling cost. 
 
 When it is considered that Bryant never held 
 any public office, that he never controlled any pat 
 ronage, that he was not accustomed to borrow from 
 occasions any factitious influence, it must, I think, 
 be conceded that the respect and reverence with 
 which he inspired his countrymen, and the hom 
 age which they so freely and abundantly accorded 
 to him during his lifetime, are among the things 
 in their history which do them infinite honor, and 
 which testify most faithfully to their correct ap 
 preciation of what is good and great in human 
 character. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 
 
 ONE of Milton s contemporaries tells us " that 
 the poet s vein never happily flowed but from the 
 autumnal equinox to the vernal ; and that what 
 ever he attempted at other times was never to his 
 satisfaction, though he courted his fancy never so 
 much." 
 
 What is here said of Milton might be said in a 
 way, with more or less propriety, of most eminent 
 writers, but not of Bryant. As has been already 
 observed in these pages, he was not a man of 
 moods and tenses. He never seemed one day less 
 ready than another for any kind of intellectual 
 exertion. Till years began to tell upon his 
 nervous energy, which was not until very late in 
 life, he seemed always ready to do his best of any 
 kind of work. This is so rare a quality that it 
 can only be explained by the pains he took for the 
 conservation of his health and the religious con 
 trol which he maintained over all his appetites. 
 Like St. Paul, he treated his body as God s tem 
 ple, and, to an almost inconceivable extent, re 
 sisted every inclination tending to unfit it for its 
 holy office. He was born with a very delicate con- 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 259 
 
 stitution. One who was a student in Dr. Bryant s 
 office tells us, 
 
 "The poet was puny and very delicate, and of a 
 painfully delicate nervous temperament. There seemed 
 little promise that he would survive the casualties of 
 early childhood. In after years, when he had become 
 famous, those who had been medical students with his 
 father when he was struggling for existence with the 
 odds very much against him delighted to tell of the 
 cold baths they were ordered to give the infant poet in 
 a spring near the house early mornings of the summer 
 months, continuing the treatment, in spite of -the out 
 cries and protestations of their patient, so late into the 
 autumn as sometimes to break the ice that skimmed the 
 surface." l 
 
 Shortly after he settled as a lawyer at Great 
 Barrington, he represented himself to a correspond 
 ent as " wasted to a shadow by a complaint of the 
 lungs." This weakness of the chest, to which both 
 his father and sister had succumbed, led him soon 
 after his arrival in New York to discontinue the 
 use of tea, coffee, spices, and all stimulating condi 
 ments ; to eat sparingly of meat, and to take a great 
 deal of bodily exercise. 
 
 It is easy to persuade ourselves that he was 
 largely indebted for his ability to contend success 
 fully with morbid hereditary tendencies, and for 
 his extraordinary vigor and longevity, to the atten 
 tion he was thus compelled to give to the care of 
 his health in early life. It is an extraordinary fact 
 
 1 Dawes s Centennial Address at Cummington, June 26, 1879. 
 
260 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 that, starting life with such a limited capital of 
 health, he lived to be an octogenarian without ever 
 having been confined to his bed from illness, except 
 his last, within the recollection of any of his off 
 spring, and with all his bodily senses in apparently 
 unimpaired perfection. He never used spectacles, 
 and his hearing to the last seemed perfect. 
 
 Bryant has happily left us a brief account of his 
 sanitary discipline in a letter to an acquaintance 
 who had asked of him the secret of his uninter 
 rupted health. If the value of his example as set 
 forth in this letter to Joseph H. Richards, Esq., 
 could be properly impressed upon the youth of our 
 country, it would probably prevent far more dis 
 ease than all the medical schools of the land will 
 ever supply the skill to cure. 
 
 "NEW YORK, March 30fA. 
 
 ... "I rise early, at this time of the year 
 about half past five ; in summer, half an hour or 
 even an hour earlier. Immediately, with very little 
 encumbrance of clothing, I begin a series of exer 
 cises, for the most part designed to expand the 
 chest, and at the same time call into action all the 
 muscles and articulations of the body. These are 
 performed with dumb - bells, the very lightest, 
 covered with flannel, with a pole, a horizontal 
 bar, and a light chair swung round iny head. 
 After a full hour, and sometimes more, passed in 
 this manner, I bathe from head to foot. When at 
 my place in the country, I sometimes shorten my 
 exercises in the chamber, and, going out, occupy 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 261 
 
 myself in some work which requires brisk mo 
 tion. After my bath, if breakfast be not ready, 
 I sit down to my studies till I am called. My 
 breakfast is a simple one hominy and milk, or, 
 in place of hominy, brown bread, or oatmeal, or 
 wheaten grits, and, in the season, baked sweet 
 apples. Buckwheat cakes I do not decline, nor any 
 other article of vegetable food, but animal food I 
 never take at breakfast. Tea and coffee I never 
 touch at any time ; sometimes I take a cup of 
 chocolate, which has no narcotic effect, and agrees 
 with me very well. At breakfast I often take 
 fruit, either in its natural state or freshly stewed. 
 
 "After breakfast I occupy myself for a while 
 with my studies ; and when in town, I walk down 
 to the office of the Evening Post, nearly three 
 miles distant, and after about three hours return, 
 always walking, whatever be the weather or the 
 state of the streets. In the country I am engaged 
 in my literary tasks till a feeling of weariness 
 drives me out into the open air, and I go upon my 
 farm or into the garden and prune the fruit trees, 
 or perform some other work about them which they 
 need, and then go back to my books. I do not 
 often drive out, preferring to walk. In the coun 
 try I dine early, and it is only at that meal that I 
 take either meat or fish, and of these but a mod 
 erate quantity, making my dinner mostly of vege 
 tables. At the meal which is called tea I take 
 only a little bread and butter with fruit, if it be on 
 the table. In town, where I dine later, I make 
 
262 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 but two meals a day. Fruit makes a considerable 
 part of my diet, and I eat it at almost any hour of 
 the day without inconvenience. My drink is water, 
 yet I sometimes, though rarely, take a glass of 
 wine. I am a natural temperance man, finding 
 myself rather confused than exhilarated by wine. 
 I never meddle with tobacco, except to quarrel with 
 its use. 
 
 " That I may rise early I, of course, go to bed 
 early : in town as early as ten ; in the country 
 somewhat earlier. For many years I have avoided 
 in the evening every kind of literary occupation 
 which tasks the faculties, such as composition, even 
 to the writing of letters, for the reason that it 
 excites the nervous system and prevents sound 
 sleep. My brother told me not long since that he 
 had seen in a Chicago newspaper, and several 
 other Western journals, a paragraph in which it 
 was said that I am in the habit of taking quinine 
 as a simulant, that I have depended on the excite 
 ment it produces in writing my verses, and that in 
 consequence of using it in that way I have become 
 as deaf as a post. As to my deafness, you know 
 that to be false ; and the rest of the story is 
 equally so. I abominate drugs and narcotics, and 
 have always carefully avoided anything which spurs 
 nature to exertions which it would not otherwise 
 make. Even with my food I do not take the usual 
 condiments, such as pepper and the like." 
 
 To the habits of life outlined in this letter, 
 Bryant faithfully adhered to the end of his days. 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 263 
 
 Not many weeks before his death, and when re 
 covering from a slight indisposition which he had 
 been describing to me (he was then approaching 
 his eighty -fourth year), I said, " I presume you 
 have reduced your allowance of morning gymnas 
 tics." " Not the width of your thumb nail," was 
 his prompt reply. " What," said I, " do you man 
 age still to put in your hour and a half every 
 morning ? " " Yes," he replied, * and sometimes 
 more ; frequently more." This I have always re 
 garded as a signal triumph of character. As the 
 glaciers testify to the incalculable power of the sun 
 which piles them up on the peaks of the loftiest 
 mountains, so this resolute and conscientious pros 
 ecution of a toil which directly furthered no per 
 sonal or worldly end, which added nothing of value 
 to his stock of knowledge, which gratified neither 
 his own nor any other person s vanity or ambition, 
 which deprived him of no trifling proportion of 
 the best working hours of his day, testified with 
 unimpeachable authority to the heroic moral forces 
 of which his will, his tastes, his ambition, were 
 always the patient and faithful servants. 
 
 Soon after his settlement in New York, his at 
 tention was directed to the Hahnemannian theory 
 of medical science, which had just been introduced 
 into the United States by Dr. Hans B. Gram, and 
 which he finally accepted as the system of cure 
 having most pretensions to a scientific character. 
 When later a society of homoeopathic physicians 
 
264 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 was organized, he was elected its first president. 
 In a letter written to his old friend, the Rev. Dr. 
 Dewey, in January, 1842, he recapitulates the sub 
 jects then occupying most of public attention, and 
 among them he enumerates homoeopathy, which he 
 says " is carrying all before it. Conversions are 
 making every day. Within a twelvemonth the 
 number of persons who employ homoeopathic physi 
 cians has doubled. A homoeopathic society has 
 been established, and I have delivered an inaugural 
 lecture before it, a defense of the system which 
 I am to repeat next week. The heathen rage ter 
 ribly, but their rage availeth nothing." Bryant s 
 faith in this system of medication grew with his 
 years ; and he became quite expert in its applica 
 tion to the ordinary ailments of his family and de 
 pendents. His lecture did much to commend 
 homoeopathy to the public confidence, though his 
 extraordinary vigor of body and mind was more 
 convincing to most persons than anything he could 
 write or preach. 
 
 It is a curious coincidence that his death was 
 the result not of disease but of a fall, and that the 
 only alarm he ever experienced about his health, 
 after he embraced homoeopathy, was also in conse 
 quence of a fall. As he was going to his office 
 one morning, he was then in his eightieth year, 
 he slipped on the street and fell. To this acci 
 dent he makes the following playful allusion in a 
 letter to Miss C. Gibson, one of his very few 
 regular correspondents : 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 265 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that your health does not 
 improve as a consequence of your rambles and 
 sojourns on the continent. Will it never be so 
 ordered that health, like some diseases, will be 
 come contagious ? What a blessing it would be 
 for some of us if a good constitution were catch 
 ing, like the small-pox ! if freedom from pain, and 
 gayety of spirits, and the due and harmonious ac 
 tion of all our physical organs, could be given off 
 from one to another, by a kind of infection ! But, 
 if that were the case, the bad as well as the good 
 would have the advantage of it, and derive from 
 it strength for their guilty purposes, so that, on the 
 whole, the present arrangement need not be dis 
 turbed. . . . My own health, concerning which 
 you expressed so kind a concern, is very good 
 again. Only my lame shoulder reminds me now 
 and then, and not very importunately by neuralgic 
 twinges and shootings of pain, of the unlucky bruise 
 which it had from my fall on Broadway. It al 
 ways seems to me that there is a kind of disgrace 
 in falling to the ground. Drunken people fall. 
 As I got up, I thought to myself, Nobody, at 
 least, is here who knows me. At that very mo 
 ment a gentleman, whom I did not know, asked : 
 4 Are you hurt, Mr. Bryant? Of course not, I 
 answered, and I marched off down town as if I had 
 just come from my door." 
 
 During his visit to Europe in 1857, he left his 
 place in charge of Mr. George B. Cline, the teacher 
 
266 WILLIAM C ULLEN BRYAJfT. 
 
 of the public school in Roslyn, whose personal 
 merits and professional accomplishments had won 
 his respect and confidence. Not long after his re 
 turn, his worldly affairs now warranting the ex 
 pense, he engaged Mr. Cline to give him his whole 
 time, and to discharge all the duties commonly con 
 fided to the steward of an English estate. He was 
 eminently fortunate in this arrangement, which re 
 lieved him from all involuntary care of his country 
 properties, while insuring a skillful as well as 
 faithful execution of his wishes in their manage 
 ment. In whatever quarter of the world he might 
 be, Bryant never seemed to lose sight of his landed 
 properties, nor to become indifferent to the details 
 of their management, of which a voluminous corre 
 spondence with Mr. Cline still bears testimony. 
 From Heidelberg, in 1857, he writes : 
 " There is scarcely anything you could tell me 
 about Cedarmere [the name of his place at Ros 
 lyn] that I should not be glad to know. When 
 a time arrives in which there is less to do than 
 usual, I should like to have the alders cut away 
 about the pond, particularly on the east side 
 where they are beginning to form thickets. In 
 cold weather, also, when the thing is practicable, I 
 should like to have some loads of sand brought 
 from Mott s bank it being understood that he 
 is to be paid for it and the swampy hollow un 
 der the Jargonelle pear-tree south of the garden 
 filled up with it." 
 
 From Paris, he writes : 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 267 
 
 44 In regard to the trees on the hill and those 
 near the boat-house which did not put forth leaves 
 this spring, I should be glad if you could ascertain 
 by any marks upon them to what varieties of fruit 
 they belonged, that you could replace them. If 
 they were pears, the best way would be to plant 
 others in their place this fall as soon as the leaves 
 begin to drop. If they were cherry or plum trees, 
 the best time, according to my experience, is to 
 plant them early in the spring, and to mulch the 
 ground about their roots, that they may not suffer 
 by the hot dry weather of the ensuing summer. . . . 
 In addition to what I have already said concern 
 ing the thing s I wish to have done on the farm, I 
 have at present only to say that I should like a 
 small crop of wheat put in this fall, that I may 
 have something to eat when I return." 
 
 From Madrid, he writes : 
 
 44 1 should like the business of the farm to be so 
 planned that there would be some leisure left for 
 certain jobs, such as keeping the fences in neat 
 repair, ditching, draining a little, patching up a 
 thousand things that always want looking to, and 
 working in the garden. . . . For the next year, 
 beginning with April, I wish you to make such 
 arrangements in regard to the workmen employed 
 on the place as you may think most judicious, and 
 in regard to the cows kept on it, to do just as you 
 would if the farm belonged to you." 
 
 From Cadiz, he writes : 
 
 44 1 wish you to write Mr. Dawes [who super- 
 
268 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 vised the place at Cummington] that in getting 
 blackberry bushes for you in the spring, I wish him 
 to take them from the edge of the wood west of 
 the new orchard, beginning at the northwest cor 
 ner, and proceeding about a third of the way. The 
 berries for that distance are all of the best kind ; 
 beyond and nearer the school-house they are infe 
 rior. There is a shrub of the white azalea at the 
 corner of the road leading from my place in Cum- 
 inington to Mr. Norton s, which I wish dug up and 
 transferred this spring to the garden or some other 
 suitable place. 
 
 " I wish also rows of trees to be planted on each 
 side of the road leading up to Mr. Ellis s place. 
 It might be well that some of them should be 
 evergreens. 
 
 " Mr. Dawes showed me in Worthington where 
 a man who has many evergreens on his place had 
 successfully planted large ones to the north of 
 his house, screening it from view. I suggested 
 that he should be employed to plant some large 
 ones near my house, to be paid liberally for those 
 that live, and those only. Will you see if any 
 thing of this can be done? Please press this 
 matter. You know I cannot wait for trees to 
 grow." 
 
 From Barcelona, he writes : 
 
 " I have just been to the market here and bought 
 four oranges for two cents." 
 
 From Nice, he writes : 
 
 " I wish you would supply the place of the Eu- 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 269 
 
 ropean chestnut-tree that died near the summer- 
 house, and plant another pine near Captain Post s 
 the one there is sickly." 
 
 From Malaga, he writes : 
 
 "I am glad to hear so good an account as you 
 give of your Sunday-school. Both in that and your 
 district school you are engaged in a great work of 
 good, which I hope you will not desert without ma 
 ture consideration. As to inconveniences and dis 
 agreeable things, there is no situation in life free 
 from them every condition and occupation hav 
 ing its peculiar troubles, which we must learn to 
 bear and make as light as we can. . . . Julia says 
 she would like you to set out a clematis on the east 
 side of the door, not the wild, strong-growing clema 
 tis of our country which is too luxuriant, and would 
 predominate over the honeysuckle. If convenient, 
 she would like the Clematis flamula. There was 
 one planted in that spot and it must have died. If 
 this should be inconvenient take any climbing plant 
 from the garden. . . . We are here in Malaga, ther 
 country of fine fruits and of the best raisins, and 
 cannot get a grape, though in the seaports to the 
 north we found both that and other fruits most 
 abundant and cheap." 
 
 From Marseilles, he writes : 
 
 " Should your mother go to the West this winter, 
 Mrs, Bryant desires that you would get her at our 
 expense, for the journey, a good warm cloak or dress 
 and a warm bonnet, and give them to her from Mrs. 
 Bryant. ... As for eggs and chickens, my wife 
 
270 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 says they are yours for the present, use what 
 you have occasion for, only leaving a stock of hens 
 for us when we come back, not too many, for 
 they are a nuisance." 
 
 From Rome, he writes : 
 
 " There is [at Cummington] a patch of low 
 land or lamb kill, a little to the north of the brook 
 running through it, which I wish Mr. Dawes would 
 extirpate. The Bates s lost a sheep last sum 
 mer, and I think from eating it. There is also a 
 shrub of white azalea in the middle of the road at 
 the corner between my farm and the new purchase, 
 which I wish to have dug up and transplanted to 
 the garden. You know that it is among the most 
 fragrant of flowers. ... I would like a row of 
 evergreens hemlocks, I think the best, planted 
 north of the new school-house in Cummington so as 
 to shelter it from the winter wind. ... In send 
 ing trees and shrubs to Cummington you will not 
 forget Kohlenterias, which flourish so well about 
 our place, alid of which so many have appeared un 
 der the large tree. The monthly honeysuckle also 
 would, I aui pretty sure, do well there, and the 
 trumpet honeysuckle also, and it would be well to 
 add some of the hardier roses." 
 
 From Dresden, he writes : . 
 
 " I do not know whether I suggested that you 
 should plant in my plot of ground in the cemetery 
 some of those white violets that grow about the little 
 waterfall that comes out of the pond south of the 
 mill. I think they will do well there. They seem 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 271 
 
 to like a spot partially shaded where the grass is 
 not so thick and the earth a little broken." 
 
 From London, he writes : 
 
 " You say that Mrs. Cline has been sewing some 
 sheets together to catch curculios under the plum- 
 trees. I was in hopes that the mixture of sawdust 
 and petroleum under the trees would save this 
 trouble, if spread copiously and wide enough 
 around them. I cannot see how a curculio could 
 well live to get back into the tree after falling 
 among it. At all events, I wish a certain number 
 of trees to be left to that remedy alone, that we 
 may see how it works." 
 
 From Gruff, Perthshire, Scotland, he writes : 
 
 " Do not forget the Canada thistles in the field 
 south of Captain Post s. ... If you were here 
 you would miss many things you have in Roslyn. 
 Garden vegetables are dear and scarce, and some 
 are not to be had. The tomato can be raised only 
 under glass. Yet the winter climate is such that 
 the Portugal laurel flourishes and many other ever 
 greens too tender to bear the cold on Long Island. 
 The cinnamon rose is just coming into bloom. I 
 see no apple nor pear trees, which abound in the 
 southern counties of the island; indeed, a fruit 
 tree of any sort is an unwonted sight here. Yes 
 terday in going through the grounds of a large 
 landed proprietor I found a walk of an eighth of a 
 mile between plantations of rhododendrons in full 
 flower. The jonquil grows wild here, and is just 
 passing out of bloom." 
 
272 WILL JAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 From Cummington, he writes : 
 
 " The rainy weather has given place to bright 
 and beautiful days. I went to church on Sunday 
 at the east village, and heard a sermon so much 
 poorer than the previous one at the west village, 
 that I think of going back to the west village next 
 Sunday." 
 
 From the office of the " Evening Post," he 
 writes : 
 
 " I forgot to say to you that I hoped you would 
 see that the pears do not decay in the front room 
 and the library. . . . You will give, of course, the 
 usual presents to the men. Please get a black al 
 paca dress for Mrs. Tilfor if she needs it. ... I 
 send you an advertisement relating to the Japanese 
 flower, the Lilium auratum, which is sold cheap. 
 Mr. Nordhoff suggests that if you care to have 
 any of the bulbs, you had better see him before 
 getting them." 
 
 From Mount Savage, he writes : 
 
 " I think it will be well to make two or three 
 barrels of cider, but I do not wish to have it made 
 of apples which are half rotten or in any way un 
 sound. I want it made of picked, selected apples, 
 and put in barrels which are perfectly sweet. It 
 will probably be well to attend to this before I re 
 turn." 
 
 From Cummington, he writes : 
 
 " The pears came last evening, Friday, in a 
 pouring rain, the sixth rainy day that we have had 
 in succession. The earth is as full of moisture as 
 
RSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 273 
 
 a sponge just dipped in water, and is letting it out 
 everywhere. As to the pears, they came in very 
 good order. A few of the Tysons and the Otts 
 were spoiled, and but a few ; they were all except 
 the spoiled ones ready for eating. Both the Otts 
 and the Dearborns are much better than those you 
 sent before, and the Cedarrneres which we have 
 left can hardly be eaten after the excellent pears 
 which we got last evening. I think of coming for 
 the plums with my brother next Tuesday." 
 
 When in town, his correspondence was, of course 
 more frequent, but wherever he was, whether at 
 home, or in Europe or Asia or Africa or Spanish 
 America, he never seemed to lose sight of nor inter 
 est in whatever nature or art were doing or could be 
 persuaded to do at Roslyn and Cummington. He 
 was a good farmer and an accomplished botanist. 
 There was nothing that drew its life from the soil 
 which was not to him a divine expression of pro 
 found and fascinating mysteries, which he was 
 always desiring to penetrate ; much of his poetry 
 shows with what success. 
 
 Bryant was about five feet ten inches in height, 
 very erect, lithe, and well formed. He never be 
 came fleshy, but to the last retained the elasticity 
 and alertness which in the lower animals are to 
 kens of high breeding and careful training. He 
 was among his school-fellows noted for his beauty, 
 and in his old age his appearance was very distin 
 guished. A finer looking head than his at eighty 
 
274 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 was only to be seen in art galleries. Whoever saw 
 him in his later years would discern a new force 
 and fitness in those lines of Dr. Donne : 
 
 " No spring nor summer beauty has such grace 
 As I have seen in an autumnal face." 
 
 The austerity of his life, for he never cultivated 
 any artificial appetites, contributed to keep him 
 comparatively lean in flesh. Hence his endurance 
 even at eighty was remarkable. There were few 
 young men who cared to follow him in his tramps, 
 or who could scale a mountain with less physical 
 inconvenience. He was not fond of riding, and 
 was rarely seen in a carriage for recreation. I 
 never knew of his riding a horse. Walking was 
 his favorite out-of-door exercise. He was a great 
 favorite with ladies and with children, and had 
 the rare art of entertaining them without seem 
 ing to descend for the purpose. He never in 
 dulged in chaff or persiflage, nor in jokes at others 
 expense. The severest punishment he visited upon 
 any one whose society was not congenial, and that 
 was severe enough, was to let him do all the talk 
 ing and to see as little of him as possible. 
 
 Bryant had been brought up in the Presbyterian 
 faith and to regard Calvin as its profoundest ex 
 positor. " Calvinism " was practically the religion 
 of all New England, where there was any religion 
 at all, at the beginning of this century. While 
 Dr. Bryant was a member of the General Court, 
 Buckminster and Channing were enthralling vast 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 275 
 
 audiences in Boston, both by their eloquence and 
 by a theology which seemed to a certain class 
 of minds more consistent with the deductions of 
 human reason. A Unitarian professor was also 
 appointed at Harvard University. Dr. Bryant 
 listened to the preachers of these new doctrines, 
 subscribed to their publications, and brought the 
 doctrines of the new school back to his family, 
 where they found a ready acceptance. 
 
 When he came to New York to live, Bryant fre 
 quented the church of Dr. Follen, less because of 
 his varied intellectual resources, which were ex 
 ceptional, than because of the freedom he found 
 there for the expansion of the religious life in all 
 directions. Dr. Folleri was called a Unitarian. 
 Bryant continued until his death, when in town, 
 to attend the churches of tins denomination, under 
 the successive pastorates of Dewey, Osgood, and 
 Bellows. At Roslyn, he attended the Presbyterian 
 church, of which Dr. Ely was pastor. Of this 
 church he was a trustee, a constant attendant, and 
 one of the largest contributors to its maintenance. 
 Though habitually an attendant upon the ministra 
 tions of the Unitarian clergy when they were ac 
 cessible, no one ever recognized more completely 
 nor more devoutly the divinity of Christ. To a 
 little volume from the pen of the Rev. Dr. Alden, 
 entitled " Thoughts on the Religious Life," he con 
 tributed a preface, in which he says : 
 
 " I cannot but lament the tendency of the time, 
 encouraged by some in the zealous prosecution of 
 
276 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 science, to turn its attention from the teachings of 
 the gospel, from the beautiful example of Christ s 
 life, and the supremely excellent precepts which 
 He gave to his disciples, and the people who re 
 sorted to hear Him. To those teachings and that 
 example the world owes its recovery from the 
 abominations of heathenism. The very men who 
 in the pride of their investigations into the secrets 
 of the material world turn a look of scorn upon 
 the Christian system of belief are not aware how 
 much of the peace and order of society, how much 
 of the happiness of their households and the pu 
 rity of those who are dearest to them, are owing to 
 the influence of that religion extending beyond 
 their sphere. There is no character in the whole 
 range of qualities which distinguish men from 
 each other so fitted to engage our admiration and 
 so pregnant with salutary influence on society as 
 that which is formed on the Christian pattern by 
 the precepts of the gospel, and a zealous imitation 
 of the example of the Great Master. 
 
 " This character, of which Christ was the perfect 
 model, is in itself so attractive, so altogether 
 lovely, that I cannot describe in language the ad 
 miration with which I regard it ; nor can I express 
 the gratitude I feel for the dispensation which be 
 stowed that example on mankind, for the truths 
 which He taught, and the sufferings He endured 
 for our sakes. I tremble to think what the world 
 would be without Him. Take away the blessing 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 277 
 
 of the advent of his life and the blessings pur 
 chased by his death, in what an abyss of guilt 
 would man have been left ? It would seem to be 
 blotting the sun out of the heavens to leave our 
 system of worlds in chaos, frost, and darkness. 
 
 " In my view of the life, the teachings, the la 
 bors, and the sufferings of the blessed Jesus, there 
 can be no admiration too profound, no love of 
 which the human heart is capable too warm, no 
 gratitude too earnest and deep, of which He is 
 justly the object. It is with sorrow that my love 
 for Him is so cold, and my gratitude so inadequate. 
 It is with sorrow that I see any attempt to put 
 aside his teachings as a delusion, to turn men s 
 eyes from his example, to meet with doubt and 
 denial the story of his life. 
 
 " For my part, if I thought that the religion of 
 skepticism were to gather strength and prevail 
 and become the dominant view of mankind, I 
 should despair of the fate of mankind in the year? 
 that are yet to come. . . . 
 
 " The religious man finds in his relations to his 
 Maker a support to his virtue which others cannot 
 have. He acts always with a consciousness that 
 he is immediately under the eyes of a Being who 
 looks into his heart and sees his inmost thoughts, 
 and discerns the motives which he is half unwilling 
 to acknowledge even to himself. He feels that he 
 is under the inspection of a Being who is only 
 pleased with right motives and purity of intention, 
 and who is displeased with whatever is otherwise. 
 
278 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 He feels that the approbation of that Being is in 
 finitely more to be valued than the applause of all 
 mankind, and his displeasure more to be feared 
 and more to be avoided than any disgrace which 
 he might sustain from his brethren of mankind." 
 
 I will here allow myself the liberty of quoting 
 a few paragraphs from a letter of Miss Bryant 
 which exhibits some of the aspects of her father s 
 domestic life of peculiar interest. After inviting 
 my attention to Dr. Alden s book, she says : 
 
 " This preface must have been one of the last things 
 written by my father. It speaks more fully than I 
 have known him to do elsewhere of his religious belief 
 and of his belief in Christ, and is very touching, I think. 
 I remember how earnestly he used to enjoin upon me 
 to study the character and example of Christ and to try 
 to follow it. He was so reserved even with his children 
 in speaking of such subjects that he rarely admonished 
 any one in this way, but when he did it was done with 
 a simplicity and earnestness that made it something 
 never to be forgotten. 
 
 " My father and mother with Dr. Ely took an active 
 part in procuring for the village the cemetery at Roslyn, 
 where they both now are buried, and since Dr. Ely s 
 death my father was always liberal in subscribing to 
 ward the salary of the clergyman sent there. He com 
 muned there because Dr. Ely was a liberal man, and 
 always invited all members of other churches and de 
 nominations who might be present to join in the com 
 munion service. Every Sunday my father and I pre 
 pared flowers which we took to my mother s grave to 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 279 
 
 lay upon it, and upon those of the Godwin children. 
 When I was out at Roslyn, my father and Mr. Cline 
 went together ; and also, on the day of my mother s 
 death, the 26th of July, the graves were covered with 
 flowers. My father was much interested in picking the 
 flowers himself, and nothing ever interfered with this 
 task of love. 
 
 u On Sunday mornings he always read prayers and a 
 chapter from the Bible, using Tyndal s translation al 
 ways when at Roslyn, and Furness s Prayers generally, 
 sometimes Sadler s. In the evenings, in town, after my 
 father had left the parlor, I would sometimes go up 
 to his library, and almost always find him reading the 
 book of prayers or some other religious book. He never 
 spoke of it, but I think it was his invariable custom to 
 read in his room some pages of books of this kind be 
 fore retiring. Every Sunday morning, from the time I 
 can remember, we had morning prayers, and I suppose 
 it was only on Sundays, because in earlier years my 
 father was obliged to leave home on week days before 
 the family could be assembled for prayers ; and when 
 we were in the country he passed most of the week in 
 town. Dr. Bellows remarked upon the regularity of 
 his attendance at morning and evening church ; he 
 scarcely ever failed. On Sunday evenings if anything 
 prevented his going to church, and generally in the 
 country where we had no church, he read a sermon 
 aloud, one of Dr. Dewey s or South s, or formerly one 
 of Beecher s (but of late years he did not read his to 
 the family circle), sometimes Phillips Brooks s or James 
 Freeman Clarke s, or Robertson s, for whose works and 
 life he had great admiration. Very few people knew 
 how much my father s time was occupied with religious 
 
280 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 matters, especially during the last years of his life, and 
 after my mother s death he read more books of that 
 character than any other. He wrote a preface to a 
 book of devotional poems collected by Miss J. Dewey, 
 and published after his death. Miss Dewey was one of 
 the persons to whom my father talked most freely on 
 religious matters, although he was very reserved about 
 his feelings and sentiments." 
 
 Bryant used to say that a gentleman should 
 never talk of his love affairs or of his religion. 
 There was no subject, however, as Miss Bryant 
 states, that, during many of the later years of his 
 life, occupied so large a share of his thoughts as 
 religion itself ; none about which he seemed more 
 inclined to listen ; but of his own spiritual expe 
 riences he was singularly reticent. I do not re 
 member to have heard of his defining his creed 
 upon any of the differentiating questions of the 
 ology, or of avowing a single dogma ; neither do I 
 believe such an utterance can be found in any of his 
 writings. The preface to Dr. Alden s little book 
 already cited approaches nearest to an exception. 
 
 The catholic, unsectarian character of Bryant s 
 religion, his profound conviction of the presence 
 of God wherever He is made welcome, doubtless 
 had its influence in delaying till quite late in life 
 his connection with " the visible church." What, 
 if any, change in his opinions occurred, or what 
 special motive led him to take this step when he 
 did rather than at any earlier period of his life, 
 has never transpired. It was at Naples in 1858, 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 281 
 
 and in the sixty-fourth year of his age, that he first 
 determined to make a formal public profession of 
 the Christian faith and " unite with the church." 
 of this event, we have the fullest, indeed the only 
 original, account from the Rev. Mr. Waterston, of 
 Boston. 
 
 "Mrs. Bryant," he tells us, "had been suddenly pros 
 trated by serious illness, and he had watched over her 
 through many anxious weeks. ... At this time [April 
 23d] I received from him a note stating that there 
 was a subject of interest upon which he would like to 
 converse with me. On the following day, the weather 
 being delightful, we walked in the Villa Reale, the royal 
 park or garden overlooking the Bay of Naples. Never 
 can I forget the beautiful spirit that breathed through 
 every word he uttered, the reverent love, the confid 
 ing trust, the aspiring hope, the rooted faith. Every 
 thought, every view was generous and comprehensive. 
 Anxiously watching, as he had been doing, in that twi 
 light boundary between this world and another, over 
 one more precious to him than life itself, the divine 
 truths and promises had come home to his mind with 
 new power. He said that he had never united himself 
 with the church, which with his present feelings he 
 would most gladly do. He then asked if it would be 
 agreeable to me to come to his room on the morrow 
 and administer the Communion, adding that, as he had 
 not been baptized, he desired that ordinance at the same 
 time. The day following was the Sabbath, and a most 
 heavenly day. In fulfillment of his wishes, in his own 
 quiet room, a company of seven persons celebrated to 
 gether the Lord s Supper. With hymns, selections 
 
282 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 from the Scripture, and devotional exercises, we went 
 back in thought to the large upper room where Christ 
 first instituted the Holy Supper in the midst of his dis 
 ciples. Previous to the breaking of bread William Cul- 
 len Bryant was baptized. With snow-white head and 
 flowing beard, he stood like one of the ancient Prophets, 
 and perhaps never since the days of the Apostles has a 
 truer disciple professed allegiance to the Divine Mas 
 ter. . . . After the service, while standing at the win 
 dow looking out with Mr. Bryant over the bay, smooth as 
 glass (the same water over which the Apostle Paul sailed, 
 in the ship from Alexandria, when he brought Christian 
 ity into Italy), the graceful outline of the Island of 
 Capri relieved against the sky, with that glorious scene 
 reposing before us, Mr. Bryant repeated the lines of 
 John Leyden, the Oriental scholar and poet, lines 
 which, he said, had always been special favorites of his, 
 and of which he was often reminded by that holy tran 
 quillity which seems, as with conscious recognition, to 
 characterize the Lord s Day. 
 
 With silent awe, I hail the sacred morn, 
 
 That scarcely wakes while all the fields are still ; 
 
 A soothing- calm on every breeze is borne, 
 
 A graver murmur echoes from the hill, 
 
 And softer sings the linnet from the thorn. 
 
 Hail, lig-ht serene ! Hail, sacred Sabbath morn! " 
 
 It was under the spell of the emotions which 
 guided him to the " large upper room " on this 
 occasion that Bryant penned the following lines, 
 which reveal more of his " inner life " than any 
 outside of his household ever learned probably 
 from his lips. 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 283 
 THE CLOUD ON THE WAY. 
 
 See before vis, in our journey, broods a mist upon the ground ; 
 Thither leads the path we walk in, blending with that gloomy 
 
 bound. 
 
 Never eye hath pierced its shadows to the mystery they screen ; 
 Those who once have passed within it never more on earth are 
 
 seen. 
 
 Now it seems to stoop beside us, now at seeming distance lowers, 
 Leaving banks that tempt us onward with summer green and 
 
 flowers. 
 
 Yet it blots the way forever ; there our journey ends at last ; 
 Into that dark cloud \ve enter, and are gathered to the past. 
 Thou who, in this flinty pathway, leading through a stranger 
 
 land, 
 
 Passest down the rocky valley, walking with me hand in hand, 
 Which of us shall be the soonest folded to that dim unknown ? 
 Which shall leave the other walking in this flinty path alone ? 
 Even now I see thee shudder, and thy cheek is white with fear, 
 And thou clingest to my side as comes that darkness sweeping 
 
 near. 
 Here, thou sayst, the path is rugged, sown with thorns that 
 
 wound the feet. 
 But the sheltered glens are lovely, and the rivulet s song is 
 
 sweet ; 
 Roses breathe from tangled thickets; lilies bend from ledges 
 
 brown ; 
 Pleasantly between the pelting showers the sunshine gushes 
 
 down ; 
 Dear are those who walk beside us, they whose looks and voices 
 
 make 
 
 All this rugged region cheerful, till I love it for their sake. 
 Far be yet the hour that takes me where that chilly shadow lies, 
 From the things I know and love and from the sight of loving 
 
 eyes ! 
 So thou murmurest, fearful one ; but see, we tread a rougher 
 
 way; 
 Fainter glow the gleams of sunshine that upon the dark rocks 
 
 play; 
 
 Rude winds strew the faded flowers upon the crags o er which we 
 pass; 
 
284 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 Banks of verdure when \ve reach them hiss with tufts of withered 
 grass. 
 
 One by one \ve miss the voices which we loved so well to hear ; 
 
 One by one the kindly faces in that shadow disappear. 
 
 Yet upon the mist before us fix thine eyes with closer view ; 
 
 See beneath its sullen skirts, the rosy morning 1 glimmers through. 
 
 One whose feet the thorns have wounded passed that barrier and 
 came back, 
 
 With a glory on his footsteps lighting yet the dreary track. 
 
 Boldly enter where He entered, all that seems but darkness here 
 
 When thou once hast passed beyond it, haply shall be crystal- 
 clear. 
 
 Viewed from that serener realm, the walks of human life may 
 lie, 
 
 Like the page of some familiar volume, open to thine eye ; 
 
 Haply, from the o erhanging shadow, thou mayst stretch an un 
 seen hand, 
 
 To support the wavering steps that print with blood the rugged 
 land. 
 
 Haply leaning o er the pilgrim, all unweeting thou art near; 
 
 Thou mayst whisper words of warning or of comfort in his ear 
 
 Till, beyond the border where that brooding mystery bars the 
 sight 
 
 Those whom thou hast fondly cherished, stand with thee in peace 
 and light." 
 
 Though Bryant s poetry is mainly devoted to 
 the illustration of some pious thought, or to the 
 translation of some of the spiritual sentiments 
 which he found concealed in nature s mystic ver 
 nacular, no one could infer from any poem he ever 
 wrote the denomination of Christians with which 
 he was most in sympathy. Any one of them 
 might have claimed him, as all claim Moses and 
 the Prophets. 
 
 Dr. Bellows, his pastor during the later years of 
 his life, has spoken with authority of his religious 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 285 
 
 character in the discourse pronounced at his funeral. 
 " A devoted lover of religious liberty, he was an 
 equal lover of religion itself not in any precise 
 dogmatic form, but in its righteousness, reverence, 
 and charity. What his theology was, you may 
 safely infer from his regular and long attendance 
 in this place of Christian worship. Still he was 
 not a dogmatist, but preferred practical piety and 
 working virtue to all modes of faith. What was 
 
 O 
 
 obvious in him for twenty years past was an 
 increasing respect and devotion to religious institu 
 tions, and a more decided Christian quality in his 
 faith. I think he had never been a communicant 
 in any church until he joined ours, fifteen years 
 ago. From that time, nobody so regular in his 
 attendance on public worship, in wet and dry, 
 cold and heat, morning and evening, until the very 
 last month of his life. The increasing sweetness 
 and beneficence of his character, meanwhile, must 
 have struck his familiar friends. His last years 
 were his devoutest and most humane years. He be 
 came beneficent as he grew able to be so, and his 
 hand was open to all just need and to many un 
 reasonable claimants." 
 
 Bryant showed little taste for metaphysical stud 
 ies or speculations. He came into the possession 
 of the most profound and important truths, by 
 sheltering his judgment from worldly and selfish 
 influences, and by extirpating all evil and un 
 worthy proclivities. By making his soul a fitting 
 dwelling-place, wisdom sought its hospitality. But 
 
286 WILLIAM Ci LLEN BRYANT. 
 
 he trusted himself rarely to tlie open sea of 
 speculation. His mind was perfectly inaccessible 
 to crotchets. When he went to war he always 
 equipped himself with proved weapons. Yet he 
 was always open to new ideas, and the farthest in 
 the world from believing that man had reached 
 the limits of knowledge in any direction. No 
 man ever had a profounder sense of responsibility 
 for what he taught ; and while he listened patiently 
 when necessary to the dreams and speculations of 
 enthusiasts, he never asked any such indulgence 
 from his readers. He never professed to be wiser 
 than everybody else, nor to see farther. He never 
 shocked the most simple-minded of his readers by 
 startling novelties in thought or expression. He 
 never plucked truths before they were ripe. He 
 never confounded the chemist s laboratory with the 
 kitchen, nor served his readers table with the prod 
 ucts of the crucible, or the retort. 
 
 Bryant shrank from ostentation of any kind, and 
 especially from any ostentation of charity, which in 
 its gospel acceptation is the highest practical con 
 summation of the religious life. His charity was 
 like his own 
 
 % ..." clear spring that midst its herbs 
 
 Wells softly forth and wandering 1 steeps the roots 
 Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale 
 Of all the good it does." 
 
 There was no phariseeism of any description in 
 Bryant s make-up. He treated every neighbor as 
 if he were an angel in disguise sent to test his 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 287 
 
 loyalty to the golden rule. For sixteen years, and 
 until his death, he was the principal contributor to 
 a Christmas treat for the inmates of the North 
 Hempstead poor-house. Mr. Cline was instructed 
 by him to distribute the surplus of his garden 
 among his neighbors, and he informs me that he 
 has sometimes given as many as eighty chickens 
 to the poor of the village on Thanksgiving Day 
 under Mr. Bryant s directions. 
 
 Mr. Cline one day expressed a desire to Bryant 
 that some one would prepare a good book of prayers 
 for schools. Bryant had one which, with a few 
 changes, he thought would answer. Finding ifc 
 acceptable to Mr. Cline, he ordered sixty copies 
 for the village school at his own expense. In the 
 holidays he always contributed liberally for the ex 
 penses of an entertainment to the school children. 
 The winter before the family went to Europe in 
 1857, they remained in Roslyn until February. 
 On one of the coldest nights of the season, towards 
 midnight, Bryant was awakened by a noise under 
 his window. On opening it he found there the son 
 of one of his neighbors, intoxicated and noisy. 
 Bryant went down to him and urged him to go 
 home. To this he seemed indisposed. Finally, 
 by dint of some management and many entreaties, 
 and by bearing him company, Bryant succeeded in 
 getting the young man to his own door, half a mile 
 or more distant. No one knew that lie had this 
 failing ; and rather than expose him to the gossip 
 of the servants and neighborhood, Bryant passed a 
 
288 WILLIAM CULLKN BRYANT. 
 
 couple of hours of a fearfully inclement night, at 
 the risk of his own life, in trying to save the life 
 as well as character of this young man, who was 
 in danger of freezing to death if left to himself. 
 
 He was not in the habit of giving presents, even 
 to his family. He gave when and what seemed to 
 him to be needed. Neither did he care for presents 
 himself, except a box of candy now and then, 
 which always pleased him, and with which he was 
 always sure to be well provided on holiday occa 
 sions. 
 
 As he prospered in his basket and his store, his 
 heart seemed proportionately to swell with sensibil 
 ity for the well-being of others, which he testified in 
 a thousand ways, of which no account has ever been 
 made except in the Book of Life. He learned to 
 regard his worldly possessions as a trust to be con 
 secrated to holy uses. When they abounded he gave 
 bountifully,, while in his hand-to-hand struggles with 
 poverty during the first forty or fifty years of his 
 life he sent no one empty away. Two costly in 
 stitutions founded by him, one at Koslyn and the 
 other at Curnmington, will remain, for generations 
 to come, monuments of his judicious munificence. 1 
 
 He had no great faith, however, in the charity 
 that limits itself to the relief of physical suffering 
 and material wants, except in so far as it might affect 
 the benefactor. Knowing that sorrow and privation 
 had their own proper uses in the divine economy, 
 
 1 A fine library and reading-room in each of these places were 
 built, and liberally stocked with books, entirely at his expense. 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 289 
 
 and that we have only to change ourselves to change 
 our environment, he regarded it as a less profitable 
 employment of time and money to spend them in 
 relieving cases of individual distress than, by his 
 example and pen, to enlighten and purify whole 
 communities by demonstrating and commending 
 sounder principles of thought and conduct. 
 
 Bolingbroke says in one of his letters from La 
 Source, " I have a friend in this country who has 
 been devoted these five and twenty years to judicial 
 astrology. I begin to believe, for I know not 
 whether I should wish it or no, that he will have 
 the mortification, before he dies, of finding out 
 that a quarter of an hour well employed in examin 
 ing principles would have saved him a quarter of a 
 century spent about consequences." 
 
 Bryant had much the same notion of the efficacy of 
 the charities of the purse which essay to change the 
 environment and not the individual, as compared 
 with the charity which changes the environment by 
 first changing the individual. In a letter to Miss 
 Dewey, he discloses this view pretty clearly in some 
 comments upon the career of an eminent contem 
 porary. 
 
 " I have read every word of Canon Kingsley s 
 Life and Letters, and thought better of him for 
 reading it. He was very decided in his opinions, 
 but very modest in his notion of his own merits ; 
 and though conservative in regard to the Anglican 
 church, tolerant and kind to those who did not 
 agree with him. He was a friend to the humbler 
 
290 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 classes, and a most faithful and sympathetic pas 
 tor, wearing- out his life for his flock ; yet I cannot 
 see that he contemplated doing them any good, save 
 by personal effort and kind attentions. I do not find 
 in any part of the memoir that he sought to improve 
 the institutions under which the working class in 
 England had been kept poor and degraded." 
 
 Bryant s notion was that as an hour s sun would 
 accomplish more than all the fires in all the fire 
 places in the land to warm and light it, so any 
 effort of a man of genius like Kingsley to correct 
 public abuses, to define and to smooth the paths of 
 duty to all classes, to remove restrictions, and to 
 adjust the burdens of government more equitably 
 among them, might have reached and ameliorated 
 the conditions of millions, to whom his name was 
 and still is as completely unknown as that of the 
 woman who washed the feet of Jesus with her tears 
 and wiped them with her hair. 
 
 With friends whom he knew, or with people whom 
 he respected, Bryant was genial, chatty, and enter 
 taining, but never familiar. Even with his family, 
 whom he always treated with the utmost tenderness 
 and consideration, he was reserved ; while express 
 ing what he thought, rarely revealing what he felt. 
 Like Milton, he was frugal though not grudging of 
 praise ; and one might have known him for years 
 without receiving from him any special evidence of 
 the regard which he really entertained. He had 
 no objection to lend his presence where it would 
 serve a useful purpose, and he rarely refused an 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 291 
 
 application from any charitable or religious organ 
 ization ; but he had a more than ordinary aversion 
 to being made a spectacle of to gratify any one s 
 vanity or ambition, his own least of all. These 
 lines of Shakespeare seem to have been always in 
 his mind, if not on his lips : 
 
 " I love the people 
 
 But do not like to stage me to their eyes. 
 Though it do, well, I do not relish well 
 Their loud applause and aves vehement ; 
 Nor do I think the man of safe discretion 
 That does affect it." 
 
 Neither was he a " respecter of persons." He 
 sought no one s acquaintance or society because of 
 his wealth, or rank, or prominence. His most inti 
 mate friends were among quiet not to say obscure 
 and unpretending people. There was no social 
 ladder leading to or from his house. It was what 
 they were, not who they were, that determined him 
 in his choice of friends. 
 
 " I remember," observes Mr. Godwin, " when 
 Charles Dickens was here, Mr. Bryant was invited 
 by a prominent citizen to meet him at dinner, but 
 declined. 4 That man, he said, has known me 
 for years without asking me to his house, and I am 
 not going to be made a stool-pigeon to attract birds 
 of passage that may be flying about." 
 
 To Dana, who had given some one a letter of in 
 troduction to him, he said : " I shall be glad to be 
 useful to him in any way ; but how can you who 
 know me ask me to get acquainted with anybody. 
 
292 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 I do not know that I ever got acquainted with any 
 body, of set purpose, in my life. The three things 
 most irksome to me in my transactions with the 
 world are, to owe money, to ask a favor, and to 
 seek an acquaintance. The few excellent friends 
 I have 1 acquired I scarcely know how certainly 
 by no assiduity of my own." 
 
 Bryant had a marvelous memory. His familiar 
 ity with the English poets was such that when at 
 sea, where he was always too ill to read much, he 
 would beguile the time by reciting to himself page 
 after page from favorite poems. He assured me 
 that he had never made a voyage long enough to 
 exhaust his resources. I once proposed to send 
 for a copy of a magazine in which a new poern of 
 his was announced to appear. " You need not send 
 for it," said he, " I can give it to you." " Then 
 you have a copy with you," said I. " No," he 
 replied, " but I can recall it," and thereupon pro 
 ceeded immediately to write it out. I congratu 
 lated him upon having such a faithful memory. 
 " If allowed a little time," he replied, " I could 
 recall every line of poetry I have ever written." 
 
 He rated his memory at its true value, however, 
 and never abused it. It was a blooded steed which 
 he never degraded to the uses of a pack-horse. 
 Hence he was fastidious about his reading as about 
 his company, believing there was no worse thief 
 than a bad book ; but he never tired of writers who 
 have best stood the test of time. He had little 
 taste for historical reading. Indeed, the habits of 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 293 
 
 liis mind were not at all in sympathy with the in 
 ductive method of reaching new truths or prop 
 agating them. He often deplored the increasing 
 neglect of the old English classics, which our mod 
 ern facilities for printing were displacing. John 
 son s " Lives of the Poets " was one of his favorite 
 books. Pope, who has educated more poets in the 
 art of verse-making than any other modern author, 
 was, from early youth, his pocket companion. I 
 think he had studied him more carefully than any 
 other English writer, and was specially impressed 
 by his wit. 
 
 One day, as I was looking over the books on the 
 shelves of his library at Roslyn, he called my 
 attention to his position. " There," said he, " I 
 have fallen quite accidentally into the precise atti 
 tude in which Pope is commonly represented, with 
 his forehead resting on his fingers." He then got 
 up to look for an illustration among his books. He 
 did not find what he sought, but he brought two 
 other editions, each representing Pope with an 
 abundance of hair on his head, one an old folio 
 containing a collection of Pope s verses, written be 
 fore he was twenty-five years of age. 
 
 I asked him if he had seen the new edition of 
 Pope s works which Elwin was editing. He said 
 he had not, nor heard of it. I then told him that 
 Elwin left Pope scarcely a single estimable per 
 sonal quality, and had stripped him of a good 
 share of the literary laurels which he had hitherto 
 worn in peace. He promptly said that he did not 
 
294 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 care to see it ; that he was not disposed to trust 
 such a judgment, however ingeniously defended, 
 and quoted Young s lines on Pope, " Sweet as 
 his own Homer, his life melodious as his verse." 
 That, said he, is the judgment of a contemporary. 
 He then read some lines from other poets in far 
 ther defense of his favorite. He was unwilling to 
 have his idea of Pope disturbed, and when I sug 
 gested that he should get Elwin, he said, " No, I 
 want no better edition than Wai-burton s, the edi 
 tion that was in my father s library, and which I 
 read when a boy." Bryant s admiration of Pope is 
 the more remarkable, as two characters more un 
 like could not be readily imagined. 
 
 Bryant took but little note of any but moral dis 
 tinctions among men. Mere worldly rank im 
 pressed him as little as any man I ever knew, 
 though he appreciated, and no one more justly, 
 the qualities that merited such distinction. I was 
 once his guest at Roslyn with a member of the 
 English peerage, who at the close of the first re 
 past after our arrival presumed upon the privilege 
 accorded to persons of his rank at home to rise 
 first and dismiss the table. Mr. Bryant joined me 
 on our way to the parlor, and w r ith an expression 
 of undisguised astonishment asked me, " Did you 
 see that ? " I replied that I did, and, with a view 
 of extenuating the gentleman s offense as much as 
 I could, said that he evidently thought he was only 
 exercising one of the recognized prerogatives of his 
 order. " Well," he said, " he will have no oppor- 
 
PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC HABITS. 295 
 
 t unity of repeating it here ; " and he was as good 
 as his word, for during the remainder of our so 
 journ, no one was left in doubt whose prerogative 
 it was in that house to dismiss the table. Some 
 weeks later he alluded to this incident, and quoted 
 from a conversation he had once held with Feni- 
 more Cooper his strictures upon this exasperating 
 assumption of the titled classes in some communi 
 ties of the Old World. He was willing that others 
 should adopt any standard that pleased them best 
 by which to rate their fellows, himself included, 
 but he would not accept directly or indirectly for 
 himself any other standard than that which, so far 
 as he knew, his Maker would apply. 
 
 Bryant was a man of the most unassailable dig 
 nity. It was impossible even for his familiars to 
 take any liberties with him. His influence upon 
 all who entered his presence was akin to that at 
 tributed by Cowley to the daughter of Saul. 
 
 Merab with spacious beauty filled the sight 
 But too much awe chastened the bold delight 
 Like a calm sea which to the enlarged view, 
 Gives pleasure but gives fear and reverence too." 
 
 "While preparing for college occurred an 
 event," says Bryant, " which I remember with re 
 gret. My grandfather Snell had always been sub 
 stantially kind to me and ready to forward any 
 plan for my education, but when I did what in his 
 judgment was wrong, he reprimanded me with a 
 harshness which was not so well judged as it was 
 probably deserved. I had committed some foolish 
 
296 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 blunder, and he was chiding with even more than 
 his usual severity ; I turned and looked at him 
 with a steady gaze. What are you staring at ? 
 he asked, did you never see me before ? Yes, 
 I answered, I have seen you many times before. 
 He had never before heard a disrespectful word 
 from my lips. He turned and moved away, and 
 never reproved me again in that manner, but never 
 afterward seemed to interest himself so much as 
 before in any matter that concerned me." It is 
 harder to forgive a person we have wronged than 
 one who has wronged us. That is probably the 
 explanation of the change in the grandfather s 
 manner and deportment towards his refractory 
 grandchild. The heavy armor of puritanical Phil 
 istinism was no proof against the sling and peb 
 bles of this stripling, conscious of deserving and 
 brave enough to insist upon better treatment. 
 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 LAST DAYS. 
 
 THE man who knew so well as Bryant how to 
 live must have known as well how to die. It is 
 commonly but too true that "un mourant a bien 
 pen de chose a dire quand il ne parle niparfai- 
 blesse ni par vanite," but when Bryant was sum 
 moned to take " his chamber in the silent halls of 
 death," he took with him all his noble faculties, 
 and neither feebleness nor vanity were among 
 them. 
 
 " In years he seemed but not impaired by years." 
 
 It would have been, therefore, in the highest 
 degree interesting and instructive to have watched 
 him in the process of putting the last enemy 
 under his feet, and to have marked the impres 
 sion which the immediate prospect of shedding 
 his mortality and of putting on immortality would 
 produce on such a rare personality. But this 
 was a privilege which Providence did not see fit 
 to accord. To his closing days there was to be no 
 twilight. He had accepted an invitation to deliver 
 an address at the unveiling of a statue to Mazzini, 
 the Italian patriot, in Central Park, on Wednes- 
 
298 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 day, the 29th of May, 1878. He had not been 
 feeling well for several days, which, however, did 
 not prevent his spending the morning at his office 
 in the discharge of customary duties. After a 
 light luncheon he was driven to Central Park. 
 The day \vas warm. The sun shone so brightly 
 that a friend insisted, though with but partial suc 
 cess, upon sheltering his head with an umbrella. 
 When he had finished his discourse he appeared 
 quite exhausted, and should have returned imme 
 diately to his home. He was too amiable to de 
 cline an invitation from Mr. James Grant Wilson 
 to accompany him across the Park to his house, and 
 on foot. They ascended the steps together. What 
 then occurred has been thus circumstantially re 
 ported by Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " As we approached my house, about four o clock, 
 Mr. Bryant was recalling the scenes of the previous year 
 on the occasion of the President s visit as such to New 
 York, and he was still, I think, cheerfully conversing on 
 that subject as we walked up arm in arm, and entered 
 the vestibule. Disengaging my arm, I took a step in 
 advance to open the inner door, and during the few sec 
 onds, without the slightest warning of any kind, the ven 
 erable poet, while my back was turned, dropped my 
 daughter s hand and fell suddenly backward through the 
 open outer door, striking his head on the stone platform 
 of the front steps, with one half of his body still lying 
 in the vestibule. I turned just in time to see the sick 
 ening sight of the silvered head striking the stone, and 
 springing to his side hastily raised him up. He was 
 unconscious, and I supposed that he was dead. Ice 
 
LAST DATS. 299 
 
 water was immediately applied to the head, and, with 
 the assistance of a neighbor s son and the servants, he 
 was carried into the parlor. A soft pillow was placed 
 at one end for his head, as he lay unconscious at full 
 length on the sofa. He was restless, and in a few min 
 utes sat up, and drank the contents of a goblet filled 
 with iced sherry, which partially restored him, and he 
 asked with a bewildered look, k Where am I ? I do 
 not feel at all well. Oh, my head ! my head ! accom 
 panying the words by raising his right hand to his fore 
 head. He now recognized me, and looked curiously 
 around the room, still with a dazed and uncertain ex 
 pression : Was it not here that President Hayes was 
 received ? again exclaiming, How strangely I feel ; 
 I don t know what is the matter with me this afternoon. 
 My head ! my head ! Still with a bewildered manner, 
 as if he were struggling for the recovery of his reason, 
 he fixed his eyes keenly on me, and apparently with an 
 idea that something had happened to him, and with a 
 view to relieving our terrible anxiety concerning him, 
 he attempted to make some pleasant remarks. Where 
 did you say you were building ? Is that not one 
 of Audubon s pictures ? How many children have 
 you ? J Where are you going with your family this 
 summer ? are a few of the questions that he asked. 
 The gentleman, as was remarked of Sir Walter Scott, 
 may be said to have survived the genius. Declining to 
 retire to a sleeping-room and to permit us to send for 
 our own or his physician, he expressed a wish to be 
 taken home. He ob]ected to going in a carriage, saying 
 he preferred a street car. Although still not quite him 
 self, he expressed his wishes in a most emphatic man 
 ner, and about 4.30 said he would like to start. We 
 
300 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 accordingly walked together to the corner and entered a 
 Madison Avenue car, and whenever the car stopped to 
 take on or let off a passenger he would ask, Where 
 are we now ? and manifested much impatience to reach 
 his residence. For some time he held a few pieces of 
 silver in his hand, but when I quietly asked him to re 
 place the money in his pocket he did so. Once on our 
 way down he added my name to the usual inquiry 
 of * Where are we now ? Calling a carriage, we 
 stepped into it from the car at Seventeenth Street, the 
 conductor showing us every attention, and drove rapidly 
 to his house. Once only on our way did he speak, and 
 then to remark, I am a very sick man. On our ar 
 rival his mind again wandered, and looking up he said, 
 Whose house is this? What street are we in? Why 
 did you hring me here ? Without replying, I sooth 
 ingly said, We will step in since we are here, and rest for 
 a few minutes, and so gently led him up the steps. 
 Reaching the inner door he mechanically took out his 
 pass-key, opened it, and returned the key to his pocket, 
 when he passed into the parlor, and through to the din 
 ing-room, where he sat down in a large easy-chair. At 
 the request of his niece, Miss Fairchild, I assisted him 
 upstairs to the library, where he lay down on the lounge, 
 and then went for Dr. John F. Gray, who returned with 
 me immediately, and on examining the patient said the 
 fall was produced by syncope, and had caused concus 
 sion of the brain, but not necessarily fatal. This was 
 before six o clock. At seven he came again, accompa 
 nied by Dr. Carnochan, the eminent surgeon, whose 
 views, I understood, coincided with those of Mr. Bry 
 ant s physician. Mr. and Mrs Graham and other in 
 timate family friends arrived, and I then took my leave 
 a little before eight o clock." 
 
LAST DAYS. 301 
 
 In Dr. Gray s report of the case, he said : 
 
 " Mr. Bryant during the first few days would get up 
 and walk about the library or sit in his favorite chair. 
 He would occasionally say something about diet and air. 
 When his daughter Julia arrived from Atlantic City, 
 where she had been for her health, she thought her 
 father recognized her, but it is uncertain how far he 
 recognized her or any of his friends. The family were 
 hopeful and made the most of every sign of conscious 
 ness or recognition. On the eighth day after the fall, 
 haemorrhage took place in the brain, resulting in paraly 
 sis, technically called hemiplegia, which extended down 
 the right side of the body. After this he was most of 
 the time comatose. He was unable to speak, and when 
 he attempted to swallow, his food lodged in his larynx 
 and choked him. He was greatly troubled with phlegm 
 and could not clear his throat. There was only that one 
 attack of haemorrhage of the brain, and that was due to 
 what is called traumatic inflammation." 
 
 For fourteen sad and tedious days, Bryant thus 
 lingered while life was ebbing 
 
 . . . " unmarked and silent- 
 
 " As the slow neap-tide leaves yon stranded galley. 
 Late she rocked merrily at the least impulse 
 That wind or wave could give ; but now her keel 
 Is settling on the sand ; her mast has ta en 
 An angle with the sky from which it shifts not. 
 Each wave receding shakes her less and less 
 Till bedded on the strand she shall remain 
 Useless and motionless." . . . 
 
 At half-past five on the morning of the 12th of 
 June, that heart which for eighty-four years had 
 never rested from its labors ceased to beat. 
 
302 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 The news of Bryant s death produced an im 
 pression only to be expected from the death of one 
 who had long been regarded as the first citizen of 
 the republic. His genius and his virtues were the 
 theme of every periodical, of every pulpit, and of 
 every literary society in the land. For a time, little 
 was to be seen or heard but these swirling eddies 
 which marked the place where the ship went down. 
 The flags of the city where he died and of the 
 shipping were raised at half-mast, his portrait was 
 displayed in all the shop windows, and his writings 
 were in special demand at every bookstore and 
 library. 
 
 " There is probably no eminent man in the coun 
 try," wrote Mr. George William Curtis in " Harper s 
 Monthly," " upon whose life and genius and career the 
 verdict of his fellow-citizens would be more immediate 
 and unanimous. His character and life had a simplicity 
 and austerity of outline that had become universally fa 
 miliar, like a neighboring mountain or the sea. His 
 convictions were very strong, and his temper uncompro 
 mising ; he was independent beyond most Americans. 
 He was an editor and a partisan ; but he held politics 
 and all other things subordinate to the truth and the 
 common welfare, and his earnestness and sincerity and 
 freedom from selfish ends took the sting of personality 
 from his opposition, and constantly placated all who, 
 like him, sought lofty and virtuous objects. Those who 
 watched the character of his influence upon public af 
 fairs, and who saw him daily moving among us a vener 
 able citizen noiselessly going his way, as they marked 
 the hot and bitter strife of politics, could not but recall 
 
LAST DAYS. 303 
 
 the picture by the French painter Couture, of the De 
 cadence of Rome, in which the grave figure of the older 
 Roman stands softly contemplating the riotous license 
 and luxury of a later day. Bryant carried with him 
 the mien and the atmosphere of antique public virtue. 
 He seemed a living embodiment of that simplicity and 
 severity and dignity which we associate with the old 
 republics. A wise stranger would have called him a 
 man nurtured in republican air upon republican tradi 
 tions." 
 
 The late Dr. Holland, commenting upon the 
 loss the world had sustained in the death of Bryant 
 in " Scribner s Monthly," of which he was the edi 
 tor, wrote : 
 
 " By reason of his venerable age, his unquestioned 
 genius, his pure and lofty character, his noble achiev- 
 ments in letters, his great influence as a public jour 
 nalist, and his position as a pioneer in American litera 
 ture, William Cullen Bryant had become, without a 
 suspicion of the fact in his own modest thought, the 
 principal citizen of the great republic. By all who 
 knew him and by millions who never saw him he was 
 held in the most affectionate reverence. When he died, 
 therefore, and was buried from sight, he left a sense of 
 personal loss in all worthy American hearts. 
 
 " He never sought notoriety, and was never notorious. 
 The genuine fame that came to him came apparently 
 unsought. It grew with his growth and strengthened 
 with his strength, and at the last it became a shadow 
 of the man that lengthened momently across the earth 
 as his sun descended. Nothing can be purer, nothing 
 more natural, nothing more enduring than his reputa 
 tion ; for it was based in real genius, genuine character, 
 
304 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 and legitimate achievement. He never postured him 
 self hefore the public ; he shrank from all thought of 
 producing a sensation ; he had the humblest opinion of 
 himself ; and his fame was simply one of the things 
 that he would not help and could not hinder. He was 
 a man of character, a man of business and affairs, and 
 a poet or perhaps he was first of all a poet, and 
 afterward all that made up a complete manhood. These 
 are the aspects of the man which seem most worth talk 
 ing about. 
 
 " Mr. Bryant was a poet who could take care of him 
 self and get a living. He could not only do this, but 
 he could do a wise and manly part in guiding the poli 
 tics of the country. He could not only manage his own 
 private and family affairs in a prosperous way, but he 
 could discharge his duties as a citizen and a member of 
 society. In his own personal character and history he 
 associated probity with genius, purity with art, and the 
 sweetest Christianity with the highest culture. He has 
 proved to all the younger generation of poets that hys 
 terics are not inspiration, that improvidence is not an 
 unerring sign of genius, that Christian conviction and 
 Christian character are not indications of weakness, but 
 are rather a measure of strength, and that a man may 
 be a poet and a poet a man. So much of a certain sort 
 of eccentricity has been associated with the poetic tem 
 perament and with poetic pursuits, that, in some minds, 
 the possession of practical gifts and homely virtues is 
 supposed to invalidate all claims to genius. If Mr. Bry 
 ant s life had accomplished nothing more than to prove 
 the falsity of this wretched notion, it would have been 
 a fruitful one." 
 
 It was to multitudes a disappointment that re- 
 
LAST DAYS. 305 
 
 ppect for his often expressed wishes compelled the 
 family to decline the supervacuos honores of an 
 ostentatious public funeral. On the 14th, his re 
 mains were taken to All Saints Church, where the 
 poet had worshiped for many years. The occa 
 sion attracted a vast throng from every rank of 
 life, and far exceeding the seating capacities of the 
 church. After the customary devotional exercises, 
 the pastor, Dr. Bellows, delivered a feeling and 
 impressive discourse, from which I allow myself to 
 make a single extract : 
 
 " It is the glory of this man that his character out 
 shone even his great talent and his large fame. Distin 
 guished equally for his native gifts and his consummate 
 culture, his poetic inspiration and his exquisite art, he is 
 honored and loved to-day even more for his stainless 
 purity of life, his unswerving rectitude of will, his devo 
 tion to the higher interests of his race, his unfeigned 
 patriotism, and his broad humanity. It is remarkable 
 that with none of the arts of popularity a man so little 
 dependent on others appreciation, so self-subsistent and 
 so retiring, who never sought or accepted office, who 
 had little taste for cooperation, and no bustling zeal 
 in ordinary philanthropy, should have drawn to himself 
 the confidence, the honor, and reverence of a great me 
 tropolis, and become, perhaps it is not too much to say, 
 our first citizen. It was in spite of a constitutional re 
 serve, a natural distaste for crowds and public occasions, 
 and a somewhat chilled bearing towards his kind, that 
 he achieved by the force of his great merit and solid 
 worth this triumph over the heart of his generation. 
 The purity of the snow that enveloped him was more 
 
30G WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 observed than its coldness, and his fellow-citizens be 
 lieved that a fire of zeal for truth, justice, and human 
 rights burned steadily at the heart of this lofty person 
 ality, though it never flamed or smoked. And they 
 were right ! Beyond all thirst for fame or poetic honor 
 lay in Bryant the ambition of virtue. Reputation he 
 did not despise, but virtue he revered and sought with 
 all his heart. He had an intense self-reverence that 
 made his own good opinion of his own motives and 
 actions absolutely essential. And though little tempted 
 by covetousness, envy, worldliness, or love of power, he 
 had his own conscious difficulties to contend with, a 
 temper not without turbulence, a susceptibility to in 
 juries, a contempt for the moral weaknesses of others. 
 But he labored incessantly at self-knowledge and self- 
 control, and attained equanimity and gentleness to a 
 marked degree. Let none suppose that the persistent 
 force of his will, his incessant industry, his perfect con 
 sistency and coherency of life and character were not 
 backed by strong passions. With a less consecrated 
 purpose, a less reverent love of truth and goodness, he 
 might easily have become acrid, vindictive, or selfishly 
 ambitious. But he kept his body under and, a far more 
 difficult task for him, his spirit in subjection. God had 
 given him a wonderful balance of faculties in a marvel- 
 ously harmonious frame. His spirit wore a light and 
 lithe vesture of clay that never burdened him. His 
 senses were perfect at fourscore. His eyes needed no 
 glasses, his hearing w r as exquisitely fine. His alertness 
 was the wonder of his contemporaries. He outwalked 
 men of middle age. His tastes were so simple as to be 
 almost ascetic. Milk and cereals and fruits were his 
 chosen diet. He had no vices and no approach to 
 
LAST DAYS. 307 
 
 them, and he avoided any and every thing that could 
 ever threaten him with the tyranny of the senses or of 
 habit. Regular in all his habits he retained his youth 
 almost to the last. His power of work never abated, 
 and the herculean translation of Homer, which was the 
 amusement of the last lustre of his long and busy life, 
 showed not only no senility or decline in artistic skill, 
 but no decrease of intellectual or physical endurance." 
 
 These ceremonies over at the church, the re 
 mains were immediately taken to Roslyn for inter 
 ment in the cemetery which Bryant had himself 
 been largely instrumental in having consecrated 
 to the public use, attended by the surviving mem 
 bers of his family and a few of his more intimate 
 friends, where they were laid beside those of the 
 wife and mother at whose grave he had shed the 
 tears of a husband and father twelve years before. 1 
 
 Dr. Bellows availed himself of a pause in the 
 preparations to commend to the villagers and other 
 persons assembled some of the lessons of Bryant s 
 life by reading selections from his poems which had 
 been made for the occasion by Mr. John C. Bry 
 ant, the poet s brother. He then read some ex- 
 
 1 It was a gratification to Bryant s friends that, in the time of 
 his death, one of his long- cherished wishes had been realized. 
 In one of his sweetest poems, written as early as 1825, he ex 
 pressed the hope 
 
 " That when he came to lie 
 At rest within the ground 
 T were pleasant ; that in the flowery June 
 When brooks send up a cheerful tune 
 
 And groves a joyous sound 
 The Sexton s hand //i? grave to make, 
 The rich, green mountain turf should break." 
 
308 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 tracts from the Scriptures, made a brief prayer, 
 and the coffin was lowered to the place prepared 
 for it. 
 
 There was probably no time in Bryant s life on 
 earth when he occupied so large a space in the 
 heart of the nation or so much of its attention as 
 in the remaining months of the year succeeding 
 his death. It was not till he no longer walked 
 among men, till his tongue was still, and the press 
 had ceased to be freighted with his strengthening 
 messages of wisdom and patriotic faith, that his 
 countrymen began to realize the magnitude of the 
 loss they had sustained, and the high rank he 
 would take among those for whom, by a noble 
 climax, Virgil reserved the Elysian Fields. 
 
 " Patriots were there in freedom s battle slain, 
 Priests whose long 1 lives were closed without a stain, 
 Bards worthy him who breathed the poet s mind, 
 Founders of arts that dignify mankind, 
 And lovers of our race, whose labors gave 
 Their names a memory that defies the grave." ^ 
 
 He had left this world with no wish or ambi 
 tion unsatisfied. Life to him had been in no sense 
 a disappointment. He had never allowed himself 
 to desire what it did not please the Master to send 
 to him, nor to repine for anything that was denied 
 him. " Thy will be done," had been the daily 
 prayer, not only of his lips but of his heart and 
 life. 
 
 x As rendered into English by Bryant himself. 
 
LAST DAYS. 309 
 
 For months, commemorative addresses followed 
 each other in convenient succession. That which 
 was delivered before the New York Historical So 
 ciety by George William Curtis is entitled to a 
 permanent place in our literature. 
 
 The Century Association, which Bryant had 
 helped to found, and of which at the time of his 
 death he was the president, testified their respect 
 for his memory in a special meeting held on the 
 12th of November following the poet s death, at 
 which poems from the pens of Bayard Taylor, then 
 Minister of the United States at Berlin, Richard 
 II. Stoddard, and E. C. Stedman were read, and 
 an address was delivered by the writer of these 
 pages. 
 
 Bryant left two children : the elder, the wife 
 of Mr. Parke Godwin, for many years associated 
 with him in the editorship of the " Evening Post," 
 and Miss Julia Sands Bryant, each of whom has 
 been the inspiration of several of their father s 
 sweetest poems. 
 
 Mr. Bryant was possessed of a very handsome 
 estate, which he devised mainly to his two children 
 by a will executed on the 6th of December, 1872, 1 
 but he was to a large extent his own executor, hav 
 ing alienated most of his real estate before his 
 o 
 
 death in accordance with the provisions of his will. 
 The " Evening Post," of which he was the half 
 proprietor, was sold two or three years after his 
 death for about $900,000. 
 
 1 Appendix B. 
 
310 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 In the foregoing pages I have attempted to por 
 tray the more prominent features of the most sym 
 metrical man I have ever known. I may be sus 
 pected of having indited a eulogy instead of a biog 
 raphy ; of trying to produce a picture that shall 
 be all light and no shadow ; of exhibiting to the 
 world a monster of perfections. If I am laying 
 myself open to such suspicions, I do not know what 
 I can change to avoid them, without injustice to 
 my theme. I have not sought to conceal anything 
 about Mr. Bryant of good or bad that was known 
 to me. I have represented his life as it was re 
 vealed to me and as I appreciated it. 
 
 Bryant was born to the same sinful inheritance 
 as the rest of us ; but I can say of him with per 
 fect truth, that with his faults he was always at 
 war. No one better than he knew the enemies 
 with which the human heart is always besieged, 
 the enemies of his own household ; and few men 
 ever fought them more valiantly, more persistently, 
 or more successfully. Those who knew him only 
 in his later years would scarcely believe that he 
 had been endowed by nature with a very quick 
 and passionate temper. He never entirely over 
 came it, but he held every impulse of his nature to 
 such a rigorous accountability, that few have ever 
 suspected the struggles with which he purchased 
 the self-control which constituted one of the con 
 spicuous graces of his character. Bryant had his 
 faults, but he made of them agents of purification. 
 He learned from them humility and faith, a wise 
 
LAST DAYS. 311 
 
 distrust of himself, and an unfaltering trust in 
 Him through whose aid he was strengthened to 
 keep them in abeyance. By God s help he con 
 verted the tears of his angels into pearls. 
 
 It was this constant and successful warfare 
 upon every unworthy and degrading propensity 
 that sought an asylum in his heart that made him 
 such a moral force in the country, that invested 
 any occasion to which he lent his presence with an 
 especial dignity, that gave to his personal exam 
 ple a peculiar power and authority, that made his 
 career a model which no one can contemplate 
 without being edified, which no one can study 
 closely without an inclination to imitate, and 
 which no one can imitate without strengthening 
 some good impulses and weakening the hold upon 
 him of every bad one. 
 
APPENDIX A. 
 REMINISCENCES OF THE "EVENING PO^T." 
 
 BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 Extracted from the Evening Post of November 15, 1851, with ad 
 ditions and corrections by the writer. 
 
 ON the 15th inst. closed the first half century of the 
 Evening Post. It may not be without entertainment 
 to our readers, and, perhaps, not entirely without in 
 struction, if we now take a brief survey of its past his 
 tory ; in other words, if we write the Life of the Even 
 ing Post. 
 
 The first number of the Evening Post appeared on 
 the 16th of November, 1801, printed on a sheet a little 
 more than a quarter of the present size of the journal. 
 It was established by William Golem an, a barrister from 
 Massachusetts, then in the prime of manhood, who had 
 won the good will of the distinguished federalists of that 
 day Hamilton, King, Jay, and many others, worthy 
 by their talents and personal character to be the as 
 sociates of these eminent men. They saw in Mr. Cole- 
 man a combination of qualities which seemed to fit him 
 for the conductor of a daily political paper in those 
 times of fervid and acrimonious controversy, and several 
 of the most public-spirited of them furnished him the 
 means of entering upon the undertaking. 
 
 Mr. Coleman was a man of robust make, of great ap- 
 
APPENDIX. 313 
 
 pearance of physical strength, and of that temperament 
 which some physiologists call the sanguine. He was 
 fond of pleasure, but capable of exertion when the occa 
 sion required it, and, as he was not disinclined to con 
 troversy, the occasion often arose. His temper was 
 generous and sincere, his manners kind and courteous ; 
 he was always ready to meet more than half way the 
 advances of an enemy ; a kind or appealing word dis 
 armed his resentment at once, and a pitiful story, even 
 though a little improbable, always moved his compassion. 
 He delighted in athletic exercises before his health 
 failed, and while yet residing in Massachusetts is said, 
 in Buckingham s Reminiscences, to have skated in an 
 evening from Greenfield to Northampton, a distance of 
 twenty miles. He was naturally courageous, and hav 
 ing entered into a dispute, he never sought to decline 
 any of its consequences. His reading lay much in the 
 lighter literature of our language, and a certain elegance 
 of scholarship which he had the reputation of possess 
 ing was reckoned among his qualifications as a jour 
 nalist. 
 
 The original prospectus of the Evening Post, though 
 somewhat measured in its style, was well written. The 
 editor, while avowing his attachment to the federal 
 party, acknowledges that " in each party are honest and 
 virtuous men," and expresses his persuasion that the 
 people need only to be well informed to decide public 
 questions rightly. He seems to contemplate a wider 
 sphere of objects than most secular newspapers of the 
 present day, and speaks of his design " to inculcate just 
 principles in religion," as well as in " morals arid poli 
 tics." Some attempt was made to carry out this inten 
 tion. In one of the earlier numbers is a communication 
 
314 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 in reply to a heresy avowed by the American Citizen, a 
 democratic daily paper of that time, in which it had 
 been maintained that the soul was material, and that 
 death was a sleep of the mind as well as the body. Still 
 later, in an editorial article, appeared a somewhat elab 
 orate discussion of the design of the Revelation of 
 St. John. 
 
 New York, at that time, contained a little more than 
 sixty thousand inhabitants, and scarcely extended north 
 of the City Hall and its Park. Beyond, along Broad 
 way, were then country houses and green fields. That 
 vast system of foreign and internal intercourse, those 
 facilities of communication by sail, by steamers, by rail 
 ways, the advertisements of which now fill column after 
 column in our largest daily newspapers, was not then 
 dreamed of ; and the few ships and sloops soliciting 
 freight and passengers did not furnish advertisements 
 enough to fill a single column in the small sheet of the 
 Evening Post. Yet, the names which appear in the 
 advertisements of its very first number indicate a cer 
 tain permanence in the mercantile community. The 
 very first advertisers in the first number of the paper 
 are Hoffman & Seaton. In the same sheet appear the 
 names of N. L. & G. Griswold, names which, extending 
 over a space of fifty years, connect the commencement 
 of the nineteenth century, on which we have now en 
 tered, with the last half of the eighteenth. Here, too, 
 appear the advertisements of Frederick Depeyster, of 
 William Neilson, Richard & John Thorne, Bethune & 
 Smith, Gouverneur & Kemble, Archibald Gracie, and 
 John Murray. At a later period, in the first year of 
 the paper, came in the names of Minturn & Champlin, 
 of Aspinwall, Me Vicar, and Oakey. 
 
APPENDIX. 315 
 
 T. & J. Swords, whose names are familiar to all 
 readers of American publications, then had their book 
 store at 99 Pearl Street ; J. Mesier sold books at 107 
 Pearl Street ; Brown & Stansbury, at 114 Water Street ; 
 George F. Hopkins and D. Longworth, familiar names, 
 were then following the same vocation, and J. W. Fenn 
 was offering the American Ladies Pocket Book for 
 1802, just published at Philadelphia, in a long and elab 
 orate advertisement, describing the elegant engravings 
 with which it was embellished. 
 
 Among the advertisements in the early numbers of 
 the paper are some which show that the domestic slave 
 trade was then in existence in the State of New York. 
 In one, "a young negro woman, twenty-one years of 
 age," " capable of all kinds of work, and an excellent 
 cook," was offered for sale, " for want of employment." 
 A black woman, " twenty-six years of age, and a good 
 cook," was offered for sale " on reasonable terms." The 
 advertisers seem to have been willing to avoid publicity 
 in this matter, for no names are given ; but in the first 
 of these cases, the purchaser is referred to the printer, 
 and in the other, the name of the street and number of 
 the house at which application is to be made are given. 
 
 In the outset, Mr. Colemari made an effort to avoid 
 those personal controversies, which at the time were so 
 common among conductors of party papers, and with 
 which their columns were so much occupied. In the 
 leading article of his first number, signed with his 
 initials, he expresses his abhorrence of " personal vir 
 ulence, low sarcasm, and verbal contentions with prin 
 ters and editors," and his determination not to be di 
 verted from " the line of temperate discussion." He 
 found this resolution difficult to keep. 
 
316 WILLIAM CULLKN BRYANT. 
 
 At that time, besides the American Citizen, published 
 at New York, a democratic daily print was issued in 
 Philadelphia, called the Aurora, with both of which the 
 Evening Post soon found itself involved in unpleasant 
 disputes. James Cheetham was the editor of the Ameri 
 can Citizen. He is called by Bronson, conductor of 
 the Philadelphia United States Gazette, in an affidavit, 
 " an Englishman and a hatter," and appears to have 
 been a man of coarse mind and manners, and not easily 
 abashed. The occasional replies to his attacks in the 
 Evening Post indicate that he kept up a pretty con 
 stant fire of small personalities. In the fourth number 
 of the paper, the Evening Post answers an insinuation 
 that a letter published in its columns was not authentic. 
 The editor cautions "Mr. Cheetham " to beware of 
 wantonly repeating the insinuation, protesting that he 
 will not allow any impeachment of his veracity, and that 
 he will not engage in a contest of abusive epithets. The 
 editor of the Aurora was William Duane, a native of 
 Ireland, whom the Evening Post stigmatized as " a 
 low-bred foreigner." In all its contentions with these 
 journals, as the organ of their party, the squabble is 
 always with Mr. Cheetham and Mr. Duane, most com 
 monly without any mention of their respective papers, 
 and these men in return seem to have conducted the 
 warfare in the same spirit, and to have thought that if 
 they could but bring Mr. Coleman into personal dis 
 credit, they should have demolished the federal party. 
 
 The Evening Post of the 24th of November records 
 the death of Philip Hamilton, eldest son of General 
 Alexander Hamilton, in the twentieth year of his age 
 " murdered," says the editor, " in a duel." The prac 
 tice of dueling is then denounced as a " horrid custom," 
 
APPENDIX. 317 
 
 the remedy for which must be "strong and pointed 
 legislative interference," inasmuch a as fashion has placed 
 it on a footing which nothing short of that can control." 
 The editor himself belonged to the class with which 
 fashion had placed it upon that footing, and was des 
 tined himself to be drawn by her power into the prac 
 tice he so strongly deprecated. 
 
 The quarrel with Cheetham went on. On the next 
 day, in a discussion occasioned by the duel in which 
 young Hamilton fell, he mentioned Cheetham, and spoke 
 of the insolent vulgarity of that base wretch." At a 
 subsequent period, the Evening Post went so far as, in 
 an article reflecting severely upon Cheetham and Duane, 
 to admit the following squib into its columns : 
 
 " Lie on Duane, lie on for pay, 
 
 And Cheetham, lie thou too ; 
 More against truth you cannot say, 
 Than truth can say gainst you. 
 
 These wranglings were continued a few years, until 
 the Citizen made a personal attack upon Mr. Coleman 
 of so outrageous a nature that he determined to notice 
 it in another manner. Cheetham was challenged. He 
 was ready enough in a war of words, but he had no in 
 clination to pursue it to such a result. The friends of 
 the parties interfered ; a sort of truce was patched up, 
 and the Citizen consented to become more reserved in 
 its future assaults. 
 
 A subsequent affair, of a similar nature, in which 
 Mr. Coleman was engaged, was attended with a fatal 
 termination. A Mr. Thompson had a difference with 
 him which ended in a challenge. The parties met in 
 Love Lane, now Twenty-first Street, and Thompson fell. 
 He was brought, mortally wounded, to his sister s house 
 
318 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 in town ; he was laid at the door, the bell was rung, the 
 family came out, and found him bleeding and near his 
 death. He refused to name his antagonist, or give any 
 account of the affair, declaring that everything which 
 had been done was honorably done, and desired that 
 no attempt should be made to seek out or molest his 
 adversary. Mr. Coleman returned to New York and 
 continued to occupy himself with his paper as before. 
 
 Such is the tradition which yet survives concerning 
 the event of a combat to which the parties, who bore no 
 previous malice to each other, were forced by the com 
 pulsion of that " fashion " against which one of them, 
 on the threshold of his career as a journalist, had pro 
 tested, even while indirectly recognizing its supremacy. 
 The quarrel arose out of political differences, Mr. Cole- 
 man being in the opposition, and Mr. Thompson a friend 
 of the administration. 
 
 When the Evening Post was established, William 
 Dunlap, author of a History of the Arts of Design, and a 
 History of the American Stage, whose books are in the 
 hands of many of our readers, and whose paintings, after 
 he returned to his original profession of an artist, many of 
 them have seen, was manager of the Park Theatre. At 
 that time the fashionable part of the New York popula 
 tion were much more frequent in their attendance at 
 the theatre than now, and the Evening Post contained 
 frequent theatrical criticisms, written with no little care, 
 and dwelling at considerable length on the merits and 
 faults of the performers. Public concerts were also 
 criticised with some minuteness. Still lighter subjects 
 sometimes engaged the attention of the editor. In 1802 
 the style of the ladies dresses was such as to call forth, 
 in certain quarters, remarks similar to those which are 
 
APPENDIX. 319 
 
 now often made on the Bloomer costume. On the 18th 
 of May, 1802, the Evening Post, answering a female 
 correspondent who asks why it has not, like the other 
 newspapers, censured the prevailing mode, says : 
 
 " Female dress, of the modern Parisian cut, however de 
 ficient in point of the ornament vulgarly called clothing 
 must at least he allowed to he not entirely without its ad 
 vantages. If there is danger of its making the gentlemen 
 too prompt to advance, let it not he unobserved that it fits 
 the lady to escape. Unlike the dull drapery of petticoats 
 worn some years since, but now banished to the nursery or 
 kitchen, the present light substitute gives an air of celerity 
 which seems to say Catch me if you can." 
 
 We are not sufficiently skilled in the history of the 
 modes of former days to inform our readers what was 
 the substitute for petticoats which is here alluded to. 
 
 In the Evening Post, during the first twenty years of 
 its existence, there is much less discussion of public ques 
 tions by the editors than is now common in all classes of 
 newspapers. The editorial articles were mostly brief, with 
 but occasional exceptions, nor does it seem to have been 
 regarded, as it now is, necessary for a daily paper to 
 pronounce a prompt judgment on every question of a 
 public nature the moment it arises. The annual mes 
 sage sent by Mr. Jefferson to Congress in 1801 was 
 published in the Evening Post of the 12th of December, 
 without a word of remark. On the 17th a writer who 
 takes the signature of Lucius Crassus begins to examine 
 it. The examination is continued through the whole 
 winter, and finally, after having extended to eighteen 
 numbers, is concluded on the 8th of April. The resolu 
 tions of General Smith, for the abrogation of discrim 
 inating duties, laid before Congress in the same winter, 
 
820 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 were published without comment, but a few days after 
 wards they were made the subject of a carefully written 
 animadversion, continued through several numbers of 
 that paper. 
 
 Mr. Coleman had no skill as a manager of property ; 
 he took little thought for the morrow; when he hap 
 pened to have any money, it was spent freely, or given 
 away, or somebody who would never return it contrived 
 to borrow it. In a short time the finances of the Even 
 ing Post became greatly confused and embarrassed. 
 From its first appearance, the journal bore, in a card at 
 the bottom of its final column, the name of Michael 
 Burnham, as the printer and publisher ; he had, how 
 ever, no property in the paper. Mr. Burnham was a 
 young printer from Hartford, in Connecticut, a man of 
 sense, probity, and decision, industrious and frugal, with 
 an excellent capacity for business ; in short, he was just 
 such a man as every newspaper ought to have among 
 its proprietors, in order to insure its prosperity. The 
 friends of Mr. Coleman saw the importance of associat 
 ing Mr. Burnham with him in the ownership of the 
 paper, and negotiations were opened for the purpose. 
 The result was, that the entire control of the finances of 
 the Evening Post was placed in Mr. Burnham s hands, 
 under such regulations as were prescribed in the ar 
 ticles of copartnership. From that time the affairs of 
 the journal became prosperous ; it began to yield a re 
 spectable revenue ; Mr. Coleman was relieved from his 
 pecuniary embarrassments, and Mr. Burnham began to 
 grow rich. He died in the beginning of 1836, worth 
 two hundred thousand dollars, acquired partly by his 
 prudent management of the concerns of the paper, 
 and partly by the rise in the value of real estate. Mr. 
 
APPENDIX. 321 
 
 Coleman died in 1829, worth, perhaps, a quarter of that 
 sura. 
 
 The Evening Post, until the close of the second war 
 with Great Britain, was a prominent and leading journal 
 of the federal party. It took its share in the heated 
 discussions of the non-intercourse law, the embargo, 
 and, finally, the justice of our war with Great Britain, 
 and the wisdom with which it was managed. On the 
 question of cooperating with the government in that 
 war, the New York federalists differed with those of 
 New England ; they held that when the country was once 
 engaged in a war, the citizen could not rightfully take 
 any step to obstruct its prosecution, but must give the 
 common cause his cheerful aid and support till peace 
 should be made. When the New England States held 
 their Convention at Hartford, the New York federalists 
 refused to send delegates, and their refusal was sustained 
 by the Evening Post. Mr. Coleman, however, went to 
 Hartford on that occasion, as an observer. We recol 
 lect that, some years afterwards, in his journal, he 
 taunted Theodore Dwight, then editor of the Daily Ad 
 vertiser, in this city, with having been the Secretary of 
 the Hartford Convention. Mr. Dwight replied that 
 his accuser was also a participator in the doings of that 
 body, and spoke of his presence there as the representa 
 tive of the New York federalists. Against this imputa 
 tion, Mr. Coleman defended himself with warmth, and 
 in his usual frank and sincere manner stated very mi 
 nutely the object and circumstances of his visit. From 
 this narrative, his ingenious adversary, who would other 
 wise have had little to say, contrived, by a skillful selec 
 tion of expressions and circumstances, to make out a 
 plausible though by no means a fair case against him. 
 
322 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 About the year 1819, the health of Mr. Coleman was 
 seriously affected by a paralytic attack. Until then he 
 had found no occasion for a coadjutor in his labors as 
 an editor. Several slighter shocks followed ; his lower 
 limbs became gradually weak and unmanageable, until 
 he was wholly unable to walk without support. Differ 
 ent assistants were called in from time to time, but they 
 were again dismissed as soon as Mr. Coleman was able 
 to be in his chair. It was while he was in this condi 
 tion that an affair took place which was thought by his 
 friends to have greatly impaired his health. A person 
 named Hagerman, holding a public office, had been 
 guilty of some improper conduct at one or two hotels in 
 the interior of the State. The story was a nauseous one, 
 but Mr. Coleman, thinking that such behavior deserved 
 public exposure, gave it with all its particulars in his 
 sheet- Hagerman was furiously enraged, and having no 
 other answer to make, watched his opportunity, while 
 Mr. Coleman was driving to his office in a little wagon, 
 fell upon him with a cane, and beat him so severely 
 that he was obliged to keep his room for a considerable 
 time. 
 
 About this time it was said that a remedy had been 
 discovered for the hydrophobia in the herb called skull 
 cap, a species of scutellaria, so named from the peculiar 
 shape of its seed vessels, resembling a plain close-fitting 
 cap for the head. The Evening Post took great pain-s 
 to bring the subject before the public, collected examples 
 of the virtues of the plant, and insisted on its efficacy so 
 frequently and with such warmth as to occasion some 
 jokes at its expense. 
 
 This period of the existence of the Evening Post was 
 illuminated by the appearance of the poems of Halleck 
 
APPENDIX. 323 
 
 arid Drake in its columns, under the signatures of 
 Croaker, and Croaker & Co., in which the fashions and 
 follies, and sometimes the politicians of the day, were 
 made the subjects of a graceful and good-natured ridi 
 cule. The numbers containing these poems were eagerly 
 sought for ; the town laughed, the subjects of the satire 
 laughed in chorus, and all thought them the best things 
 of the kind that were ever written ; nor were they far 
 wrong. At a subsequent period within the last twenty- 
 five years another poem, which, though under a dif 
 ferent signature, might be called the epilogue to the 
 Croakers, was contributed by Mr. Halleck to the paper. 
 It was addressed to the Honorable Richard Riker, Re 
 corder, better known as Dick Riker. This poem, with 
 the marks of a riper intellect, is as witty as the best of 
 the Croakers. 
 
 In the fusion of parties which took place after the 
 second war with Great Britain, the Evening Post lost 
 somewhat of its decided federal character. When a 
 successor to Mr. Monroe was to be elected to the Pres 
 idency of the United States, the Evening Post sup 
 ported the claims of Mr. Crawford. No choice, as our 
 readers know, was made by the people, and the election 
 devolved upon the House of Representatives, who con 
 ferred the office upon Mr. Adams. 
 
 It was in the year 1826, a quarter of a century 
 from the first issue of the Evening Post, that William 
 C. Bryant, now one of its conductors, began to write for 
 its columns. At that time the population of New York 
 had grown from sixty thousand, its enumeration in 
 1801, to a hundred and eighty thousand. The space 
 covered with houses had extended a little beyond Canal 
 Street, and on each side of Broadway a line of dwell- 
 
324 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 ings, with occasional vacant spaces, had crept up as far 
 as Fourth Street. Preparations were making to take 
 up the monuments in the Potter s field, now the site of 
 Washington Square, and fill it up to the level of Fourth 
 Street. Workmen were employed in opening the street 
 now called St. Mark s Place, and a dusty avenue had 
 just been made through the beautiful farm of the old 
 Governor Stuyvesant, then possessed by his descendants. 
 The sheet of the Evening Post had been somewhat 
 enlarged, the number of its advertisements had been 
 doubled since its first appearance, they were more 
 densely printed, and two columns of them were steam 
 boat advertisements. But the eye, in running over a 
 sheet of the Evening Post printed at that time, misses 
 the throng of announcements of public amusements, 
 lectures, concerts, and galleries of pictures, that now 
 solicit the reader s attention ; the elaborately displayed 
 advertisements of the rival booksellers, of whom there 
 are now several houses, any one of which publishes 
 yearly a greater number of works than all the book 
 sellers of New York then did ; the long lists of com 
 mercial agencies and expresses, and the perpendicular 
 rows of cuts of ships, steamboats, and railway engines 
 which now darken the pages of our daily sheet. 
 
 The Evening Post at that time was much occupied 
 with matters of local interest, the sanitary condition of 
 the city, the state of its streets, its police, its regulations 
 of various kinds, in all which its conductors took great 
 interest. There was little of personal controversy at 
 that time in its columns. 
 
 The personal appearance of Mr. Coleman at that 
 period of his life was remarkable. He was of a full 
 make, with a broad chest, muscular arms, which he 
 
APPENDIX. 325 
 
 wielded lightly and easily, and a deep-toned voice ; but 
 his legs dangled like strings. He expressed himself in 
 conversation with fluency, energy, and decision, partic 
 ularly when any subject was started in which he had 
 taken an interest in former years. When, however, he 
 came at that period of his life to write for the press, he 
 had the habit of altering his first draught in a manner 
 to diminish its force, by expletives and qualifying expres 
 sions. He never altered to condense and strengthen, 
 but almost always to dilute and weaken. 
 
 Immediately after Mr. Bryant became connected with 
 the Evening Post, it began to agitate the question of 
 free trade. The next year he became one of the pro 
 prietors of the paper. Mr. Coleman and Mr. Burnham, 
 who desired to avail themselves of the activity and 
 energy of younger minds, offered at the same time a 
 share in the paper to Robert C. Sands, a man of wit 
 and learning, whose memory is still tenderlv cherished 
 by numbers who had the good fortune to know him 
 personally. He entertained it favorably at first, but 
 finally declined it. A majority of both Houses of Con 
 gress were in favor of protective duties, and the Even 
 ing Post, at that time, was the only journal north of 
 the Potomac which attempted to controvert them. In 
 the northern part of the Union, it was only in certain 
 towns on the seacoast that a few friends of a freer com 
 mercial system were found ; the people of the interior 
 of the Atlantic States and the entire population of the 
 West seemed to acquiesce, without a scruple, in the 
 policy of high duties. The question of modifying the 
 tariff, so as to make it more highly protective, was 
 brought up before Congress in the winter of 1828, and 
 on the 19th of May following, a bill prepared for that 
 
326 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYAKT. 
 
 purpose became a law. It was warmly opposed in the 
 Evening Post, and the course of Mr. Webster, who had 
 formerly spoken with great ability against protection, 
 but who had now taken his place among its supporters, 
 was animadverted upon with some severity. That 
 gentleman, in a letter to Mr. Coleman, justified his con 
 duct by saying that the protective system was now the 
 established policy of the country, and that taking things 
 as they were, he had only endeavored to make this sys 
 tem as perfect and as equally beneficial to every quar 
 ter of the Union as was possible. 
 
 In contending against the doctrine of protection, the 
 Evening Post gradually fell into a position of hostility 
 to the administration of Mr. Adams, by which that 
 doctrine was zealously maintained. In the election of 
 1828, it took the field in favor of the nomination of 
 General Jackson, who had declared himself in favor of 
 a "judicious tariff," by which his friends understood a 
 mitigation of the existing duties. Mr. Coleman lived 
 to see the triumph of his party, and to hear the cheers 
 of the exulting multitude at his door. In the summer 
 following, the summer of 1829, he was cut off by an 
 apoplectic stroke. William Leggett, who had earned a 
 reputation for talent and industry by his conduct of the 
 Critic, a weekly journal, several of the last numbers of 
 which were written entirely by himself, put in type with 
 his own hand, and delivered by himself to the sub 
 scribers, was immediately employed as an assistant 
 editor. He only stipulated that he should not be asked 
 to write articles on political subjects, on which he had 
 no settled opinions, and for which he had no taste a 
 dispensation which was readily granted. Before this 
 year was out, however, he found himself a zealous 
 
APPENDIX. 327 
 
 democrat, and an ardent friend of free trade, and in 
 the year 1830 became one of the proprietors of the 
 paper. 
 
 Mr. Leggett was a man of middle stature, but com 
 pact frame, great power of endurance, and a constitu 
 tion naturally strong, though somewhat impaired by an 
 attack of the yellow fever while on board the United 
 States squadron in the West Indies. He was fond of 
 study, and delighted to trace principles to their remotest 
 consequences, whither he was always willing to follow 
 them. The quality of courage existed in him almost 
 to excess, and he took a sort of pleasure in bearding 
 public opinion. He wrote with surprising fluency, and 
 often with eloquence, took broad views of the questions 
 that came before him, and possessed the faculty of 
 rapidly arranging the arguments which occurred to him 
 in clear order, and stating them persuasively. 
 
 The acts of General Jackson s administration brought 
 up the question of the power of the federal government to 
 make public roads within the limits of the different States, 
 and the question of renewing the charter of the United 
 States Bank. With what zeal he was supported by the 
 Evening Post, in his disapproval of the works of " internal 
 improvement," as they were called, sanctioned by Con 
 gress, and in his steady refusal to sign the bills presented 
 to him for continuing the United States Bank in ex 
 istence, many of our readers doubtless remember. The 
 question of national roads, after some sharp controversy, 
 was disposed of finally, perhaps, and forever ; the con 
 test for the existence of the National Bank was longer 
 and more stubborn, but the popular voice decided it, at 
 last, in favor of the President. 
 
 The first sign of a disposition in the country to relax 
 
828 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 the protective policy was given in General Jackson s 
 administration, when the law of 1832, sometimes called 
 the compromise tariff, was passed, providing for the 
 gradual reduction of the duties, on all imported goods, 
 to the rate of twenty per cent, on their value. Mr. 
 McLane, the Secretary of the Treasury, had proposed 
 a somewhat reduced tariff, in his annual report, and 
 Mr. Verplanck, in the House of Representatives, had 
 introduced a bill on a still more liberal basis. The com 
 promise swept them both away ; but the compromise was 
 welcomed by the friends of free trade in the Union, as 
 indicative of a great revolution in public opinion, and 
 as a virtual abandonment of the protective policy. Since 
 that time, the doctrines of commercial liberty, so early 
 espoused by the Evening Post, have been making 
 gradual progress, till they are professed by large ma 
 jorities in many parts of the North, and have pervadad 
 almost the entire West. 
 
 Those who recollect what occurred when General 
 Jackson withdrew the funds of the government from the 
 Bank of the United States, a measure known by the 
 name of the removal of the deposits, cannot have for 
 gotten to what a pitch party hatred was then carried. 
 It was a sort of fury ; nothing like it had been known 
 in this community for twenty years, and there has been 
 nothing like it since. Men of different parties could 
 hardly look at each other without gnashing their teeth ; 
 deputations were sent to Congress to remonstrate with 
 General Jackson, and some even talked of course it 
 was mere talk, but it showed the height of passion to 
 which men were transported of marching in arms to 
 the seat of government and putting down the adminis 
 tration. A brief panic took possession of the money 
 
APPENDIX. 329 
 
 market ; many worthy men really believed that the 
 business and trade of the country were in danger of 
 coming to an end, and looked for a universal ruin. In 
 this tempest the Evening Post stood its ground, vindi 
 cated the administration in its change of agents, on 
 the ground that the United States Bank was unsafe and 
 unworthy, and derided both the threats and the fears of 
 the whigs. 
 
 In June, 1834, Mr. Bryant sailed for Europe, leav 
 ing Mr. Leggett sole conductor of the Evening Post. 
 Mr. Bnrnham had previously withdrawn as a proprietor, 
 substituting his son in his place. The battle between the 
 friends and enemies of the Bank proceeded with little 
 diminution of virulence, but the panic had passed away. 
 The Evening Post was led by the discussion of the 
 Bank question to inquire into the propriety of allowing 
 the state banks to exist as monopolies, with peculiar 
 powers and prerogatives not enjoved by individuals. It 
 demanded a general banking law, which should place on 
 an equal footing every person desirous of engaging in 
 the business of banking. It attacked the patronage of 
 the federal executive, and insisted that the postmasters 
 should be chosen by the people in the neighborhoods to 
 which they ministered. A system of oppressive inspec 
 tion laws had gradually grown up in the State, tobacco 
 was inspected, flour was inspected, beef and pork were 
 inspected, and a swarm of creatures of the state gov 
 ernment was called into being, who subsisted by fees 
 exacted from those who bought and sold. Nobody was 
 allowed to purchase an uninspected and untaxed barrel 
 of flour, or an uninspected and untaxed plug of tobacco. 
 The Evening Post renewed its attacks on the abuse, 
 which had previously been denounced in its columns, and 
 
330 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 called for the entire abrogation of the whole code of 
 inspection laws. The call was answered some years 
 afterwards, when the subject was taken up in earnest 
 by the legislature, and the system broken up. 
 
 Meantime, another question had arisen. The Wash 
 ington Telegraph had procured printed reports of the 
 Abolition Society, in New York, then a small body, and 
 little known to the public, and extracting the most offen 
 sive passages, held them up to the people of the South 
 as proofs of a deliberate design on the part of the North 
 to deprive the planters of their slaves, without their 
 consent and without remuneration. Other extracts fol 
 lowed from day to day, with similar inflammatory com 
 ments, till at length the Southern blood took fire, and the 
 Southern merchants began to talk of ceasing to trade 
 with New York. The New York commercial commu 
 nity disclaimed all sympathy with the abolitionists, and 
 to prove its sincerity, began to disturb their meetings. 
 From slight disturbances the transition was easy to 
 frightful riots, and several of these, in which the genteel 
 mob figured conspicuously, occurred in the year 1835, 
 at different places within the State. The meetings of 
 the abolitionists were broken up, their houses were 
 mobbed, and Arthur Tappan was obliged, for a while, 
 to leave the city, where his person was not safe. The 
 Evening Post at first condemned the riots, and vindi 
 cated the right of assembling, and the right of speech. 
 As the mob grew more lawless, it took bolder ground, 
 and insisted that the evil and the wrong of slavery were 
 so great that the abolitionists were worthy of praise and 
 sympathy .in striving for its extinction. It rang this 
 doctrine from day to day in the ears of the rioters and 
 their abettors, and confronted and defied their utmost 
 
APPENDIX. 331 
 
 malice. No offer was made, in the midst of all this ex 
 citement, to mob the office of this paper. 
 
 During Mr. Bryant s absence in Europe, the interest 
 of the younger Burnham was purchased for his two 
 associates, who thus became the sole proprietors. 
 
 In October, 1835, Mr. Leggett became seriously ill ; 
 he returned to his labors after a short interval ; but a 
 relapse came on, and confined him to a sick room for 
 months. Mr. Bryant returned in the spring of 1836 
 from Europe, and found him still an invalid, the edi 
 torial chair being ably filled, for the time, by Charles 
 Mason, since distinguished as a lawyer in Iowa. He 
 resumed his labors, and engaged in the controversy re 
 specting the state banks, which was then at its height, 
 and which continued to agitate the community till the 
 adoption of a general banking law by the State, and of 
 the independent treasury scheme by the federal govern 
 ment. 
 
 In the month of June, 1836, an attempt was made in 
 different parts of the State to compel journeymen to re 
 frain from entering into any understanding with each 
 other in regard to the wages they would demand of 
 their employers. Twelve journeymen tailors were in 
 dicted in this city for the crime of refusing to work, 
 except for a certain compensation, and a knot of journey 
 men shoemakers at Hudson. In this city. Judge Ed 
 wards, Ogden Edwards, and at Hudson, Judge 
 Savage, laid down the law against the accused, pro 
 nouncing their conduct a criminal conspiracy, worthy of 
 condign punishment. The Evening Post took up the 
 charge of Judge Edwards almost as soon as it fell 
 from his lips, and showed its inconsistency with the 
 plainest principles of personal freedom, with the spirit 
 
332 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 of all our institutions and laws, and with the rule by 
 which we allow all employers and purchasers to regulate 
 their transactions. The other journals of the city took 
 a different view of the question, but the doctrine main 
 tained by the Evening Post commended itself to the 
 public mind, and is now the prevailing and universal 
 one. 
 
 In October of the same year, Mr. Leggett, after a 
 sojourn of some months in the country, returned to his 
 office with his health in part restored. His return led 
 to an examination of the finances of the Evening Post, 
 which had suffered very much during his illness. Its 
 circulation, though lessened, was still respectable, but its 
 advertising list was greatly diminished, and its income 
 was not more than a quarter of what it had been. Some 
 of its friends had been alienated by the vehemence with 
 which the journal had attacked slavery and its defend 
 ers. The proprietors of steamboats and ships, and those 
 who had houses to let, had withdrawn their advertise 
 ments, because no cuts, designed to attract the atten 
 tion of the reader, were allowed a place in its columns. 
 Mr. Leggett. with an idea of improving the appearance 
 of his daily sheet, had rigidly excluded them. 
 
 This examination ended in the retirement of Mr. 
 Leggett from the paper. He established a weekly sheet, 
 the Plaindealer, which he conducted for about a year 
 with great ability, and which, but for the failure of his 
 publisher, would have been highly successful, as was 
 evident from the rapid increase of its circulation so long 
 as it was published. 
 
 About the close of the year, two passenger ships from 
 Europe, the Mexico and the Bristol, were wrecked at 
 the mouth of the New York harbor, covering the shore 
 
APPENDIX. 333 
 
 with corpses. The Evening Post showed that this dis 
 aster arose from the negligence of the New York pilots, 
 who were unwisely allowed a monopoly of the business, 
 and joined with the mercantile community in demand 
 ing such a change as should subject them to the whole 
 some influence of competition. The change was made 
 in the same winter. 
 
 We have mentioned the short panic of 1834. It was 
 followed by a season of extravagant confidence, and of 
 delirious speculation, encouraged by all the banks, 
 that of Mr. Biddle and the deposit banks cooperating 
 in a mad rivalry, a season such as the country had 
 never seen before. It might sound like a vain boast 
 of superior discernment to say that the Evening Post 
 insisted, all along, that the apparent prosperity of the 
 country was but temporary, that its end was close at 
 hand, and that it would be followed by a general col 
 lapse and by universal distress but it is nevertheless 
 true, and as we are writing the history of our journal, 
 it must be said. The crash came quite as soon as the most 
 far-sighted had anticipated, and thousands were ruined ; 
 the banks stopped payment, and the Legislature of New 
 York, in a fright, passed a sort of stop law in their favor, 
 absolving them from the engagement to pay their notes 
 in specie. 
 
 It was shortly before this collapse, in the year 1837, 
 that Nathaniel P. Tallrnadge, a senator in Congress, 
 from this State, gave the country his famous speech on 
 the credit system, the object of which was to justify the 
 practices of the banks at that time, and of those to 
 whom the banks furnished the means for their specula 
 tions. His eulogy of the credit system was attacked in 
 the Evening Post ; he replied in the tone of a man who 
 
304 WILL/AM CULL EX BRYANT. 
 
 had been wronged ; he was answered ; his friends got up 
 a letter, signed by several hundred democrats, certify 
 ing to the political orthodoxy of Mr. Tallmadge and his 
 credit system ; the Evening Post attacked both the letter 
 and its signers. Mr. Tallmadge struggled a little while 
 longer to maintain his place in the democratic party, 
 and then sought a temporary refuge among the whigs. 
 At that time, the Times, a democratic morning paper, 
 in the interest of Mr. Tallmadge and his friends, was 
 published in the city. The Evening Post had occasion 
 to allude to the men who made the Times their instru 
 ment. The editor of the paper, one Dr. Holland, since 
 dead, who had some skil] in turning a paragraph, wrote 
 a note to Mr. Bryant, informing him that he was the 
 proprietor of the newspaper, and that it spoke his opin 
 ions, and those of no one else, and demanded that jus 
 tice should be done him in this respect. He received 
 a reply with which he was not satisfied, and failing to 
 obtain any other, he sent a challenge to Mr. Bryant, by 
 a friend, who was authorized to make the due arrange 
 ments for the meeting. 
 
 It has already been seen how great, in the first years 
 of this journal, was the force of custom among a certain 
 class of the New York population in keeping up the 
 practice of dueling. In the thirty years which had 
 since elapsed, it had grown obsolete, and even ridiculous. 
 Only very hare-brained young men. and sometimes offi 
 cers of the navy, ever sent or accepted a challenge to 
 the field, and it no longer required any firmness to de 
 cline one. Mr. Bryant treated the matter very lightly ; 
 he put the challenge in his pocket, and told the bearer 
 that everything must take its proper turn, that Dr. 
 Holland, having already been called a scoundrel by Mr. 
 
APPENDIX. 335 
 
 Leggett, must give that affair the precedence, and that 
 for his own part, he should pay no further attention to 
 the matter in hand till that was settled. The affair 
 passed off without other consequences. 
 
 Meantime, no means were left untried to hring back 
 the paper to its former prosperous condition. William 
 G. Boggs, a practical printer, and a man of much ac 
 tivity, was taken into the concern, first with a contingent 
 interest, and, in 1837, as a proprietor. The figures of 
 steamboats, ships, and houses were restored to its col 
 umns, and nothing omitted which it was thought would 
 attract advertisers. They came with some shyness at 
 first, but at last readily and in great numbers. It re 
 quired some time to arrest the decline of the paper, and 
 still more to make it move in the desired direction, but 
 when once it felt the impulse, it advanced rapidly to its 
 former prosperity. 
 
 The book press of the country, about this time, had 
 begun to pour forth cheap reprints of European publica 
 tions with astonishing fertility. Few works but those 
 of English authors were read, inasmuch as the pub 
 lisher, having nothing to pay for copyright to the foreign 
 author, could afford to sell an English work far cheaper 
 than an American one written with the same degree of 
 talent arid attractiveness. The Evening Post was early 
 on the side of those who demanded that some remedy 
 should be applied to this unequal operation of our copy 
 right laws, which had the effect of expelling the Ameri 
 can author from the book market. It placed no stress, 
 however, on the scheme of an international copyright 
 law, as it has been called, but consistently with its course 
 on all commercial questions insisted that if literary prop 
 erty is to be recognized by our laws, it ought to be 
 
336 WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 recognized in all cities alike, without regard to the legis 
 lation of other countries ; that the author who is not 
 naturalized deserves to be protected in its enjoyment 
 equally with the citizen of our republic, and that to 
 possess ourselves of his books simply because he is a 
 stranger is as gross an inhospitality as if we denied his 
 right to his baggage, or the wares which he might bring 
 from abroad to dispose of in our market. 
 
 The public mind, in the course of a short time, seemed 
 to be perfectly prepared for a change in the copyright 
 laws, abolishing any unequal distinctions in the right 
 of property, founded on birth or citizenship. The pub 
 lishers and booksellers, who had at first been unfavor 
 able to the measure, were at length brought to give it 
 their assent, but the members of Congress were not 
 ready. They did not understand the question, nor did 
 nine in ten of them care to understand it. No party 
 purpose was to be served by studying it, or supporting 
 any measure connected with it; no disadvantage was 
 likely to arise to either party from neglecting it ; and 
 for this reason, more we believe than any other, the sub 
 ject has been untouched by our legislators to this day. 
 It is observed that politicians by profession are very apt 
 to yawn whenever it is mentioned. 
 
 The dispute between the friends of the credit system, 
 as they called themselves, and their adversaries con 
 tinued till the scheme of making the government the 
 keeper of its own funds, instead of placing them in the 
 banks, to be made the basis of discounts, was adopted 
 by Congress. For this measure, which is now very 
 generally acknowledged by men of all parties to have 
 been one of the wisest ever taken by the federal govern 
 ment, and perhaps more wholesome in its effect on the 
 
APPENDIX. 337 
 
 money market than any other adopted before or since, 
 the country is indebted to Mr. Van Buren s administra 
 tion, and to those who sustained it against the credit 
 party. The Evening Post was one of the very earliest 
 in the field among the champions of that scheme, and 
 lent such aid as it was able in the controversy. 
 
 In 1840 it was engaged in the unsuccessful attempt 
 to reelect Mr. Van Buren. In the four years of that 
 gentleman s administration, nearly all the disastrous con 
 sequences of the reaction from the speculations of the four 
 previous years were concentrated. He and his friends 
 applied what is now acknowledged to be the wisest rem 
 edy, the independent treasury scheme ; but a sufficient 
 time had not elapsed to experience its effects, and the 
 friends of the credit system everywhere treated it as 
 the most pernicious quackery. The administration of 
 Mr. Van Buren was made responsible for consequences 
 \vhich it had no agency in producing, and General Har 
 rison was elected to the Presidency. 
 
 We have now arrived at a period the history of which, 
 we may presume, is so fresh in the memory of our 
 readers that we need give no very circumstantial nar 
 rative of the part borne in the controversies of the time 
 by the Evening Post. In this year, Parke Godwin, who 
 for some time had been employed as an assistant on 
 the paper, became one of its proprietors, and continued 
 so until the year 1844, when the interest he held was 
 transferred to Timothy A. Howe, a practical printer, 
 who has ever since been one of the owners of the con 
 cern. 
 
 In the year 1841 the proprietors began to issue a 
 Weekly Evening Post, the circulation of which has been 
 regularly increasing to the present moment. A Semi- 
 
338 WILL I AM CULLEN BUY AM . 
 
 Weekly had been issued from the earliest establishment 
 of the journal, and it is remarkable that the popularity 
 of the Weekly has seemed, of late, to attract subscrip 
 tions to the Semi- Weekly also. 
 
 In 1841 the subject of abolishing the punishment of 
 death was brought up in the New York Legislature, by 
 Mr. O Sullivan, who for that purpose had sought an 
 election to the House of Assembly as a delegate from 
 this city, and who prepared an excellent report giving a 
 full statement of the argument for its abolition. In the 
 following winter he had several able coadjutors in this 
 cause, among whom was Major Auguste Davezac, who 
 had studied the question tfhder the teachings of Edward 
 Livingston, and who, though a native of a French col 
 ony, was one of the finest declaimers in English of his 
 time. The Evening Post took a decided part in favor 
 of this change in the criminal law of the state, a change 
 which it has never since ceased on proper occasions tp 
 urge, on the ground that in the present age there is no 
 longer any necessity to inflict the penalty of death, and 
 that experience has shown it to be less effectual in re 
 straining the repetition of crimes than other modes of 
 punishment. The legislature, at times, seemed half per 
 suaded to try the effect of putting an end to the practice 
 of taking life by sentence of law, but it finally shrunk 
 from the responsibility of so important a step. 
 
 During the time that the Executive chair was filled 
 by Mr. Tyler for General Harrison passed so soon 
 from his inauguration to his grave that his name will 
 scarcely be noticed in history several of the questions 
 which formerly divided parties were revived. The ques 
 tion of the independent treasury had to be debated over 
 again ; the measure was repealed. The question of a 
 
APPENDIX. 339 
 
 national bank came up again in Congress, and we had to 
 fight the battle a second time ; the bill for creating an 
 institution of this kind presented to Mr. Tyler was re 
 fused his signature and defeated. Mr. Tyler, however, 
 had a dream of a peculiar national bank of his own ; 
 this also was to be combatted. The compromise of 
 1832, in regard to duties on imported goods, was set 
 aside by Congress, without ceremony, and a scheme of 
 high duties was proposed which resulted in the tariff of 
 1842. Here, also, was matter for controversy. The 
 question of admitting Texas into the Union, which had 
 several times before been discussed in the Evening Post, 
 was brought before Congress. It was warmly opposed 
 in this journal, which contended that if Texas was to 
 be admitted at all, a negotiation should first be opened 
 with Mexico. This was not done, but the result has 
 shown that such a course would have been far the wisest. 
 The eager haste to snatch Texas into the Union brought 
 with it the war with Mexico, the shedding of much 
 blood, large conquests, California, and those dreadful 
 quarrels about slavery and its extension which have 
 shaken the Union. 
 
 It is unnecessary, we believe, to refer to the part taken 
 by the Evening Post in behalf of the economical policy 
 which in 1842 retrieved the credit of the State of New 
 York, impaired by the large expenditures for public 
 works ; nor to its exertions in favor of such an altera 
 tion of the constitution, as should incorporate in the 
 constitution of the State an effectual check upon further 
 extravagances. That was soon done by the convention 
 of 1848. 
 
 In 1848 Mr. Boggs parted with his interest in the 
 Evening Post to John Bigelow ; and William J. Tenney, 
 
340 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 who had been for some time past the able and useful 
 assistant of Mr. Bryant, withdrew. The controversies 
 which have since arisen are yet the controversies of the 
 day ; they still occupy all minds, and there is no occa 
 sion to speak of their nature nor of the part we have 
 taken in them. 
 
 We have now brought our narrative down to the pres 
 ent moment. It does not become us to close without 
 some expression of the kindly feeling we entertain to 
 wards those subscribers for there are still a few of 
 them who read the Evening Post in 1801, and who 
 yet read it, nor to those and there are many such 
 in whose families it is looked upon as a sort of heir 
 loom, and who have received a partiality for it as an in 
 heritance from their parents. When these examples 
 occur to our minds, we are consoled for the occasional 
 displeasure and estrangement of those we had deemed 
 our friends ; and we think of our journal as of something 
 solid, permanent, enduring. 
 
 This impression is strengthened when we reflect that 
 in the mechanical department of the paper are men who 
 came to it in their childhood, before any of the present 
 proprietors of the paper had set foot within the office, 
 and are employed here still, worthy, industrious, and 
 intelligent men. 
 
 An experience of a quarter of a century in the con 
 duct of a newspaper should suffice to give one a pretty 
 complete idea of the effect of journalism upon the char 
 acter. It is a vocation which gives an insight into 
 men s motives, and reveals by what influences masses of 
 men are moved, but it shows the dark rather than the 
 bright side of human nature, and one who is not dis 
 posed to make due allowances for the peculiar circum- 
 
APPENDIX. 341 
 
 stances in which he is placed is apt to be led by it into 
 the mistake that the large majority of mankind are 
 knaves. It brings one perpetually in sight, at least, of 
 men of various classes, who make public zeal a cover 
 for private interest, and desire to avail themselves of the 
 influence of the press for the prosecution of their own 
 selfish projects. It fills the mind with a variety of 
 knowledge relating to the events of the day, but that 
 knowledge is apt to be superficial, since the necessity 
 of attending to many subjects prevents the journalist 
 from thoroughly investigating any. In this way it 
 begets desultory habits of thought, disposing the mind 
 to be satisfied with mere glances at difficult questions, 
 and to dwell only upon plausible commonplaces. The 
 style gains by it in clearness and fluency, but it is apt to 
 become, in consequence of much and hasty writing, 
 loose, diffuse, and stuffed with local barbarisms and the 
 cant phrases of the day. Its worst effect is the strong 
 temptation which it sets before men, to betray the cause 
 of truth to public opinion, and to fall in with what are 
 supposed to be the views held by a contemporaneous 
 majority, which are sometimes perfectly right and some 
 times grossly wrong. 
 
 To such temptations we hope the Evening Post, 
 whatever may have been its course in other- respects, 
 has not often yielded. Its success and the limits to its 
 success may both, perhaps, be owing to this unaccom 
 modating and insubservient quality. It is often called 
 upon, by a sense of duty, to oppose itself to the general 
 feeling of those from whom a commercial paper always 
 must receive its support ; it never hesitates to do so. It 
 sometimes finds a powerful member of that community 
 occupied with projects which it deems mischievous ; it 
 
342 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 puts itself in his way, and frustrates his designs, if pos 
 sible. In this way it makes bitter enemies, who would 
 break it down if they could ; it makes also warm 
 friends, by whom it is cordially supported. Its pro 
 prietors are satisfied with its success and its expecta 
 tions. For the last quarter of a century it has been the 
 only democratic paper which could subsist in New York. 
 Others have come and departed like shadows. It is now 
 well appointed in all its departments, and has as fair a 
 prospect of surviving to another century as it had at any 
 time during the last fifty years of subsisting to this 
 day. 
 
APPENDIX B. 
 
 BRYANT S WILL. 
 
 I, WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, of Roslyn, in Queens 
 County, Long Island, do make this my last will and tes 
 tament. 
 
 1. I give to my daughter Fanny Bryant Godwin the 
 house and land in Roslyn east of the highway where 
 she now lives with her family, with all the houses and 
 other buildings thereon. 
 
 2. Also a strip of land west of the said highway two 
 rods in width, to be taken from the land now occupied 
 by me at said Roslyn, and to extend from the highway 
 to the water of Roslyn harbor as far as I own. 
 
 3. Also all the land and buildings adjoining the prem 
 ises now occupied by my said daughter Fanny bought 
 by me of Stephen Smith. Also all the Mudge Farm 
 owned by me, including the land and buildings now 
 occupied under a lease by Amy Mudge and her two 
 nieces. 
 
 4. Also all my lands and buildings in Roslyn west of 
 the highway and south of the fence, which forms the 
 southern boundary of the premises now occupied by W. 
 D. Wilson and of the road leading to his house. 
 
 5. Also the little piece of land east of said highway 
 and the last mentioned lands and buildings bought by me 
 of Isaac Henderson. 
 
 6. I also give her one half of all my government 
 
344 WILLIAM CULLKN BRYANT. 
 
 bonds and government securities of whatever nature, 
 subject, however, to charges hereinafter mentioned. 
 
 I also except from the Mudge Farm bequeathed to 
 the said Fanny four acres hereinafter mentioned on the 
 northeast corner of said farm. 
 
 7. Moreover I give to my said daughter Fanny the 
 Snell Farm in Cummington, purchased by me of a Mr. 
 Ellis, with all the buildings thereon and a right of way 
 thereto by a road now made, but reserving from this 
 bequest the use of certain springs on the northeast cor 
 ner of the farm now used by me on the Bryant Home 
 stead. 
 
 1. I give to my second daughter Julia Sands Bryant 
 all my real estate in Roslyn not devised to the other 
 daughter, including the dwelling-houses, and buildings 
 now occupied by George B. Cline and W. D. Wilson 
 a tract of land extending from the highway near 
 the shore to the highway passing by the Roslyn Ceme 
 tery. 
 
 2. I give also to my said daughter Julia all my 
 books, pictures, engravings, furniture, and other mov 
 ables, animals, carriages, farming implements, and my 
 crops gathered or on the fields on whatsoever part of my 
 real estate at Roslyn they may be. 
 
 3. I also give her all my real estate in the city of 
 New York. 
 
 4. Also all my real estate in the State of Illinois. 
 
 5. Also the farm and buildings in Cummington called 
 the Bryant Homestead, with the use of the springs in the 
 northeastern corner of the Snell Farm as said springs 
 are now used. 
 
 6. Also all my furniture, books, pictures, and other 
 movables of every kind at the Bryant Homestead afore- 
 
APPENDIX. 345 
 
 said, and at Number 24 West Sixteenth Street in the 
 city of New York. 
 
 7. Also one half of my government bonds and govern 
 ment securities of whatever nature, subject to charges 
 hereinafter mentioned. 
 
 1. I give to my two daughters already named all my 
 right, title, and interest in the Evening Post newspaper 
 establishment and job printing office, and all the per 
 sonal property appertaining, and debts due to the same, 
 to be possessed by them in such a manner that each 
 shall have, together with what interest therein she may 
 possess before my death, an equal share with the other. 
 And this they are to take subject to any indebtedness 
 which may appear against me on the books of the 
 Evening Post, and subject also to any charges herein 
 after mentioned. 
 
 2. I also give my said two daughters jointly all my 
 property in the copyright of any of my published writ 
 ings. 
 
 1. I give to George B. Cline, of Roslyn aforesaid, 
 four acres of land in the northeastern corner of the 
 Mudge Farm in one quadrangular parcel at the intersec 
 tion of the two highways, to be set off to him in such 
 a manner that the width of two acres shall be on each 
 highway. 
 
 2. I also bequeath to the said Cline eight thousand 
 dollars, to be paid out of the profits of the Evening 
 Post if any be due me on the books, and if not, then 
 out of the government bonds and securities aforemen 
 tioned. 
 
 1. I bequeath to William Bryant Cline, son of the 
 said George B. Cline, two hundred dollars, to be paid out 
 of the same funds. 
 
346 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 If either of my daughters should die without children, 
 I direct that whatever she is to receive by this instru 
 ment shall go to her surviving sister. I direct further 
 that the property given to my daughters shall be settled 
 upon them in such a manner as to be free from any 
 intermeddling or control of the husband of either of 
 them. 
 
 In case that I should survive both of my daughters 
 and their children and direct descendants, I direct that 
 my estate, after paying the legacies to other persons, 
 shall be divided among my nephews and nieces and the 
 nephews and nieces of my late wife Fanny Fairchild 
 Bryant, each of them to receive an equal share with 
 the exception that Mrs. Ellen T. Mitchell, daughter of 
 my sister Sarah, and Mrs. Hannah H. Culver, daughter 
 of my wife s sister Esther Henderson, and Anna R. 
 Fairchild, daughter of my wife s brother Egbert N. 
 Fairchild, shall receive each a share twice as large as 
 the shares of the others. 
 
 Should I die possessed of any property not herein 
 specified, I direct it to be equally divided between my 
 two daughters, or if that cannot be done, then I direct 
 that it follow the disposition of the other property made 
 by this will. 
 
 I give to each of my grandchildren living at my 
 death a copy of my poems of such edition as they may 
 choose. 
 
 I empower my executors to convey my real estate by 
 deed whenever it shall become necessary or expedient. 
 
 I constitute my friends John A. Graham, John Bige- 
 low, John H. Platt, George B. Cline, and my daughter 
 Julia S. Bryant executors of this my last will and testa 
 ment. 
 
APPENDIX. 347 
 
 I revoke all my previous wills and codicils. 
 
 In testimony whereof I have hereunto set my hand 
 and seal this sixth day of December in the year one 
 thousand eight hundred and seventy-two. 
 
 WM. CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 Signed, sealed, and published by the testator, etc., etc. 
 
 ISAAC HENDERSON, 18 West 54th St., N. Y. 
 ALBERT H. KING, 563 Willoughby Ave., Br. 
 ISAAC HENDERSON, JR., 18 West 54th St., N. Y. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Abbotsford, 187. 
 
 Academy of Design, 231. 
 
 Adams, John Quincy, 150. 
 
 "Ages, The," 52, 148. 
 
 Alden, Anna, 3. 
 
 Alden, Captain John, 3. 
 
 Alden, Rev. Dr., 160, 275, 278. 
 
 Alger, Rev. W. R., address on Bryant s 
 reception by the Goethe Club, 252. 
 
 Allen, Dr., 225. 
 
 American Citizen, The, 316. 
 
 American Free Trade League, dinner 
 to Bryant on resigning its presi 
 dency, 231. 
 
 Anderson, Henry J., edits Atlantic 
 Magazine, 55 ; associated with Bry 
 ant in editing the New York Review 
 and Athenaeum Magazine, 60 ; prom 
 ises to find a purchaser of the Even 
 ing Post, 86. 
 
 Andrews, M., publishes first collection 
 of Bryant s poems in England, 122. 
 
 Arnold, Matthew, Hartley Coleridge 
 reads the lines " To a Waterfowl " 
 to, 42. 
 
 Athenaeum, The, 55. 
 
 Atlantic Magazine, The, 55. 
 
 Atlantic Monthly, publishes Bryant s 
 translation from the fifth book of 
 the Odyssey, 161. 
 
 Audax paupertas, 21. 
 
 Aurora, The, newspaper edited by 
 William Duane, 316. 
 
 "Autocrat of the Breakfast Table," 
 223. 
 
 Bancroft, George, president of the 
 
 Century Association, 219. 
 Barlow, Joel, Bryant s opinion of , as a 
 
 poet, 40, 47. 
 Bartlett, Dr., editor of the Albion, his 
 
 newspaper ethics, 100. 
 Battle of* the Kegs, The, by Francis 
 
 Hopkinson, 46. 
 Baylies, William, Bryant enters his 
 
 office as a student of law, 27 ; their 
 
 confidential relations, 29, 35. 
 
 Beecher, Henry Ward, his sermons, 
 274. 
 
 Bellows, Dr. Henry W., Bryant at 
 tends his church, 275 ; remarks on 
 the regularity of Bryant s attend 
 ance and his religious life, 279, 384 ; 
 delivers Bryant s funeral discourse, 
 305, 307. 
 
 Bennett, James Gordon, influence on 
 American journalism, 72. 
 
 Benvenuto Cellini, 236. 
 
 Biddle, Nicholas, encouraged delirious 
 speculation, 333. 
 
 Bierstadt, contributes to the portfolio 
 presented to Bryant on his seven 
 tieth birthday, 231. 
 
 Bigelovv, John, invites Bryant to head 
 the Tilden electoral ticket for the 
 presidency, 243 ; delivers a commem 
 orative address on Bryant s death 
 before the Century Club, 309 ; be 
 comes part proprietor of the Even 
 ing Post, 339 ; named one of the 
 executors of Bryant s will, 347. 
 
 Blanc, Louis, Bryant meets him in 
 London, 189. 
 
 Boggs, William G., sells his interest 
 in the Evening Post, 335. 
 
 Boker, Mr., poetical tribute to Bryant 
 on his seventieth birthday, 225, 230. 
 
 Bolingbroke, 289. 
 
 Bonaparte, disciplined by young Bry 
 ant, 16, 91 ; when First Consul Bry 
 ant began to read newspapers, 234. 
 
 Bread and Milk College, 11. 
 
 Bridgewater, 21, 26. 
 
 Brooks, CharlesF.,225. 
 
 Brooks, Phillips, 279. 
 
 Brown, J. G., contributes to the art 
 ists portfolio presented to Bryant 
 on his seventieth birthday, 231. 
 
 Browne, Solyman, 45. 
 
 Burns, Robert, his monument, 185. 
 
 Bryant, Arthur, 237. 
 
 Bryant, Dr. Peter, 4, 5, 8, note, 39, 259, 
 274. 
 
 Bryant, Dr. Philip, 4, 27. 
 
350 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Bryant, Ichabod, 4. 
 
 Bryant, John C., 86, 88, 149, 166, 197, 
 
 Bryant, Miss Julia Sands, some remi 
 niscences of her father, 278, 280, 
 301 ; the inspiration of some of his 
 sweetest poems, 309 ; named an ex 
 ecutrix of his will, 344. 
 
 Bryant, Mrs. William C., ill at Naples, 
 190 ; death, 191 ; lines to her mem 
 ory, 192, 269. 
 
 Bryant, Stephen, 3. 
 
 Bryant, William Cullen, precocity, 2, 
 9 ; ancestry, 3 ; a good speller, 10 ; 
 a fleet runner, 11 ; learns Latin and 
 Greek, 11 ; receives Sd for a rhymed 
 version of the first chapter of Job, 
 12 ; passion for poetry, and prays to 
 be a poet, 13 ; the " Embargo," 14- 
 16; enters Williams College, 17; 
 lines on, 18 ; studies law, 25, 27 ; 
 first love, 26 ; reads a Fourth of July 
 poem, 28 ; denounces the War of 
 1812 and President Madison, 29; 
 counsels resistance to the federal 
 government, 29 ; obtains a commis 
 sion as adjutant in the Massachu 
 setts infantry, 32 ; admitted to the 
 bar, 33 ; opens a law office at Plain- 
 field, 34 ; removes to Great Barring- 
 ton, 35 ; " Thanatopsis " published, 
 40 ; "To a Waterfowl," 42, 44 ; es 
 say on American poetry, 46 ; chosen 
 tithing-man and justice of the peace, 
 50 ; death of his father, 50 ; marries, 
 51; reads "The Ages" before the 
 Phi Beta Kappa Society at Harvard 
 College, 52 ; first collection of his 
 poems published, 53 ; visits Boston, 
 53; first visit to New York, 56; 
 contributions to the United States 
 Literary Gazette, 56; death of his 
 sister, 57; revisits New York, 60; 
 writes for the New York Review, 
 61, 63; removes to New York, 61, 
 63 ; lectures on English poetry, 64 ; 
 appointed professor in a school of 
 the National Academy of Design, 
 64; lectures on mythology, 64; a 
 literary adventurer, 64 ; becomes 
 joint editor and quarter owner of 
 the United States Review and Lit 
 erary Gazette, 65 ; " The Journey of 
 Life," 66; enters the office of the 
 Evening Post, 67 ; becomes part pro 
 prietor, 68 ; edits the Talisman, 68 ; 
 contributions to the United States 
 Review, 68 ; becomes editor-in-chief 
 of the New York Evening Post, 69 ; 
 his editorial habits, 72 ; advice to a 
 young journalist, 73 ; force of his 
 example, 76 ; sympathizes with 
 
 President Jackson and the Demo 
 cratic party, 78 ; his views on public 
 questions, 78 ; the riots of 1863, 84 ; 
 tires of journalism, 86 ; purchases a 
 country home at Roslyn, 94 ; pur 
 chases the old homestead at Cum- 
 mington, 95 ; poems published in 
 London, 117 ; his opinion of Samuel 
 Rogers, 123 ; letter to the Plain- 
 dealer commenting upon Mr. Ir- 
 ving s defense of the alteration he 
 permitted to be made in the English 
 edition of Bryant s poems, 136 ; not 
 a writer of occasional poems, 148 ; 
 reads a poem before the New York 
 Historical Society on the occasion of 
 its fiftieth anniversary, 150 ; why he 
 never wrote a long poem, 154 ; no 
 taste for music, 156 ; translates 
 Homer, 160, 162, 168 ; its sale, 169 ; 
 compared with that of Pope s trans 
 lation, 170 ; visits his brothers in 
 Illinois, 176 ; writes " The Prairies," 
 177 ; sails for Europe, 178 ; first im 
 pressions of France and Italy, 179 ; 
 sails for New York, 179 ; returns to 
 Europe, 181 ; returns to New York, 
 182 ; his reception in England, 182 ; 
 visits Cuba, 185; third voyage to 
 Europe, 186 ; fourth voyage to Eu 
 rope, 188 ; visits the East, 188 ; fifth 
 voyage to Europe, 190 ; Mrs. Bryant 
 ill at Naples, 190; death of Mrs. 
 Bryant, 191; sixth and last trip 
 across the Atlantic, 194 ; meets 
 Hawthorne, 194 ; visits Mexico, 197 ; 
 publishes " Letters of a Traveler," 
 198 ; commemorative discourses, 
 203 ; his memory, 212, 292 ; declines 
 an invitation to a public dinner on his 
 return from his first visit to Europe, 
 217 ; declines the office of regent of 
 the university, 217 ; his seventieth 
 birthday celebrated by the Century 
 Association, his speech on the occa 
 sion, 219; public dinner on resign 
 ing the presidency of the American 
 Free Trade League, 231 ; receives an 
 address and testimonial on his eight 
 ieth birthday, 232 ; a guest of Gov 
 ernor Tilden, at Albany, 238 ; a pub 
 lic reception tendered him by the 
 legislature, 238 ; declines to let his 
 name head the Tilden electoral 
 ticket for the presidency, 244-248 ; 
 did not vote for either candidate for 
 President in 1876, 251 ; delivers an 
 address at a reception given him by 
 the Goethe Club, 252 ; letter in re 
 gard to his personal habits, 2GO ; 
 elected president of the New York 
 Homoeopathic Society, and delivers 
 
INDEX. 
 
 351 
 
 his inaugural address, 264 ; unites 
 with " the visible church," 281 ; 
 " The Cloud on the Way," 283 ; his 
 notions of charity not conventional, 
 286 ; founds libraries at Roslyn and 
 Cummington, 288 ; his dignity, 295 ; 
 death, 301 ; reminiscences of the 
 first half century of the Evening 
 Post, 312 ; his will, 343. 
 
 Buckminster, the Rev. Mr., 274. 
 
 Bunker Hill, 4. 
 
 Burgoyne, General, Bryant s grandfa 
 ther witnessed his surrender, 4. 
 
 Burnham, Michael, becomes business 
 manager of the Evening Post, 67, 
 320. 
 
 Butler, Charles, 43. 
 
 Byron, Lord, his views of ethical po 
 etry, 120. 
 
 Calvinism in New England, 274. 
 
 Carnochan, Dr., consulted in Bryant s 
 last illness, 300. 
 
 Carter, James G., 65. 
 
 Cass, General Lewis, 185. 
 
 Cedarmere, purchased by Bryant, 94, 
 266. 
 
 Cellini, Benvenuto, 236. 
 
 Centennial year (1876), Bryant de 
 clines to write a poem for, 150. 
 
 Century Association celebrate Bry 
 ant s seventieth birthday, 219, 223, 
 309. 
 
 Channing, Edward T., 1. 
 
 Channing, William Ellery, 274. 
 
 Chapman, Mr., publisher in London, 
 Bryant attends one of his recep 
 tions, 188. 
 
 Cheetham, James, editor of American 
 Citizen, 316. 
 
 Chicago Literary Club celebrates Bry 
 ant s eightieth birthday, 237. 
 
 Christ "the perfect model," 276. 
 
 Church, Dr., features of his verse, 46. 
 
 Church, Frederick E., contributes to 
 the portfolio presented by the art 
 ists of the Century Association to 
 Bryant on his seventieth birthday, 
 231. 
 
 Cline, George B., 84, 265, 269, 271, 278, 
 286, 287, 344, 345. 
 
 Cline, William Bryant, 345. 
 
 Cole, Thomas, Bryant s discourse on, 
 202. 
 
 Coleman, William, first editor of the 
 Evening Post, 67, 69, 312 ; shoots 
 Thompson in a duel, 317. 
 
 Coleridge, Hartley, reads Bryant s 
 lines " To a Waterfowl " to Mat 
 
 thew Arnold, 43. 
 College, Bread and Milk, 11. 
 College, Harvard, 52, 148, 275. 
 
 College, Williams, 17, 148, 206. 
 
 College, Yale, 18. 
 
 Collyer, Rev. Robert, 237. 
 
 Colinan contributes to the portfolio 
 presented by the artists of the Cen 
 tury Association to Bryant on his 
 seventieth birthday, 231. 
 
 Columbus, 91. 
 
 Convention, Hartford, 32. 
 
 Cooper, J. Fenimore, 56 ; Bryant s 
 discourse on, 203, 294. 
 
 Cowper, William, 62, 159. 
 
 Coxe, Bishop, 225. 
 
 Croaker & Co., 323. 
 
 Cromwell, 91. 
 
 Culver, Mrs. Hannah H., 346. 
 
 Cummington, 1, 8. 
 
 Curtis, George William, 302, 309. 
 
 D Alembert, note, 156. 
 
 Dana, Richard H., one of the managers 
 of the North American Review, 1 ; 
 skeptical about " Thanatopsis " hav 
 ing been written on the western side 
 of the Atlantic, 2 ; declines an edi 
 torial position on the Evening Post, 
 67 ; urges Bryant to renounce poli 
 tics and stick to poetry, 10.5 ; chokes 
 over the dedication of Bryant s po 
 ems to Rogers, 122; urges Bryant 
 to write a long poem, 155, 291. 
 
 Darwin, Dr., his theory of evolution, 
 206, 254. 
 
 Davezac, Auguste, 338. 
 
 Dawes, Mr., 259, 267, 268, 270. 
 
 Derby, J. C., correspondence about 
 the candidates for President in 1876, 
 246-250. 
 
 Dewey, Chester, professor at Williams 
 College, 17. 
 
 Dewey, Dr. Orville, 165, 191, 264, 275. 
 
 Dewey, Miss Jane, 279. 
 
 Dickens, Charles, 291. 
 
 Dorsheirner, Lieutenant-Governor, ad 
 dress as president of the Senate to 
 Bryant, 228. 
 
 Douglass, Senator Stephen A., 28. 
 
 Drake, Rodman, 323. 
 
 Dryden, John, 151. 
 
 Duane, William, editor of The Aurora, 
 316. 
 
 Durand, John, 231. 
 
 Dwight as a poet, Bryant s opinion of, 
 46, 47. 
 
 Dwight, Theodore, editor of the Daily 
 Advertiser, 321. 
 
 Edinburgh, 184. 
 
 Eliot, George, 188. 
 
 Ely, Rev. Dr., 275, 278. 
 
 " Embargo," a satire, 15, 16. 
 
 Emerson, Ralph Waldo, tribute to 
 
352 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Bryant on his seventieth birthday, 
 228. 
 
 Encyclopaedia Britannica, has no arti 
 cle devoted to Bryant, 121. 
 
 Evening Post, The New York, 67, 70, 
 72, 89, 17G, 179; Bryant s reminis 
 cences of, 312 ; bequeathed to his 
 daughters, 345. 
 
 Everett, Edward, Bryant breakfasts 
 with, 124; his opinion of Bryant s 
 poetry, 158, 213, 225, 230. 
 
 Fairchild, Anna R., 34G. 
 
 Fairchild, Egbert N., 346. 
 
 Fields, Osgood & Co., publish Bryant s 
 translations from Homer, 162. 
 
 Fitch, Dr., President of Williams Col 
 lege, 17, 18. 
 
 Follen, Rev. Dr. Charles, 275. 
 
 France, Bryant s first impressions of, 
 177. 
 
 Franklin, Dr. Benjamin, 70. 
 
 Free Soil Party, 105. 
 
 Free Trade League, 182, 210, 221. 
 
 Freneau, Philip, Bryant s opinion of 
 his poetry, 46. 
 
 Gazette, The United States Literary, 
 56. 
 
 Gilford, contributes to the artists port 
 folio presented to Bryant on his sev 
 entieth birthday, 231. 
 
 Glasgow, 184. 
 
 Godwin, Bryant, 84. 
 
 Godwin, Fanny Bryant, 343, 344. 
 
 Godwin, Parke, the fame of " Thana- 
 topsis," 40 ; anecdote about the poem 
 "To a Waterfowl." 42-44; remi 
 niscences of Bryant as an editor, 113, 
 246, 251, 291 ; marries Miss Bryant, 
 309 ; associated with Bryant in the 
 Evening Post, 337. 
 
 Goethe Club gives Bryant a reception, 
 252. 
 
 Graham, John A., 300; executor of | 
 Bryant s will, 346. 
 
 Gram, Dr. Hans B., first apostle of 
 homoeopathy in New York, 263. 
 
 Grant, Ulysses S., Bryant s estimate 
 of, 242. 
 
 Gray, Dr. John F., Bryant s physi 
 cian, 301. 
 
 Gray, Mr., contributes to the artists 
 portfolio presented to Bryant oil his 
 seventieth birthday, 231. 
 
 Great Barrington, Bryant established 
 there as a lawyer, 35, 61, 62, 259. 
 
 Green, Joseph, 46. 
 
 "Green River," 41. 
 
 Hale, John P., 105. 
 Hallain, Henry, 183. 
 
 Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 56, 203, 217, 225, 
 
 322, 323. 
 
 Halleck, Moses, 11, 12. 
 Hamilton, Philip, " murdered in a 
 
 duel," 316. 
 
 Harrison, President William Henry, 
 338. " 
 
 Hartford Convention, 32. 
 Hawthorne, Nathaniel, meets Bryant 
 in Rome, 194; his impressions of 
 the poe.t, 194. 
 
 Hayes, Rutherford B., 248, 251. 
 Henderson, Isaac, 84, 246, 343, 347. 
 Henderson, Isaac, Jr., 347. 
 Henderson, Mrs., aunt of Mrs. Bryant, 
 
 51,346. 
 
 Hennessey, Mr., contributes to the 
 portfolio presented by the artists of 
 the Century to Bryant on his seven 
 tieth birthday, 231. 
 Herald, The New York, 71, 100. 
 Herschel, Sir John, 183. 
 Hicks, Thomas, contributes to the 
 portfolio presented by the artists of 
 the Century to Bryant on his seven 
 tieth birthday, 231. 
 Historical Society, the New York, 
 Bryant reads a poem before, on its 
 fiftieth anniversary, 150. 
 Holmes, Oliver Wendell, tribute to 
 Bryant on his seventieth birthday, 
 223, 225. 
 Holland, Dr., editor of the Times, 
 
 challenges Bryant, 334. 
 Homer, Bryant undertakes the trans 
 lation of, 160; the publication of, 
 162. 
 
 Homoeopathy, Bryant embraces the 
 system, and elected president of 
 the New York Homoeopathic Socie 
 ty, 264. 
 
 Honeywood, St. John, 48. 
 Hopkins, 46, 47. 
 Houghton, Lord, 182. 
 Howe, Julia Ward, 225. 
 Howe, Mr., 25. 
 Howe, Timothy A., 327. 
 Humphreys, 46, 47. 
 Huntington, Daniel, 231. 
 
 "Inscription at the Entrance to a 
 Wood," 40. 
 
 Irving, Washington, inquires about 
 Bryant and Halleck, 118; promises 
 to find a publisher in London for 
 Bryant s poems, 120 ; sends a copy 
 of the London edition to Bryant, 
 121 ; replies to the charge by Wm. 
 Leggett of " literary pusillanimity," 
 138, 182. 
 
 Italy, Bryant s first impressions of, 
 
INDEX. 
 
 353 
 
 Jackson, President Andrew, 84, 327, 
 
 328. 
 
 Jefferson, President Thomas, 14, 15. 
 Jeffrey, Lord, 187. 
 Johnson, Eastman, contributes to the 
 
 portfolio presented to Bryant by 
 
 the artists of the Century on his 
 
 seventieth birthday, 231. 
 Jones, Sir William, life of, reconciles 
 
 Bryant to the study of the law, 
 
 25. 
 Journalism, 71, 100, 111; Bryant s 
 
 opinion of, as a profession, 340. 
 Juarez, President of Mexico, Bryant s 
 
 reception by, 197. 
 
 Katejeneff, Professor, translates po 
 ems of Bryant into the Russian 
 tongue, 231. 
 
 Kensett, W., one of the contributors 
 to the portfolio presented to Bry 
 ant on his seventieth birthday by 
 the artists of the Century, 231. 
 
 King, Albert H., 347. 
 
 Kingsley, Canon, 289. 
 
 Lafarge, W., one of the contributors 
 to the portfolio presented by the 
 artists of the Century to Mr. Bry 
 ant on his seventieth birthday, 231. 
 
 Leggett, William, establishes the 
 Plaindealer, 129, 132 ; accuses 
 Washington Irving of " literary pu 
 sillanimity," 129 ; associated with 
 Bryant in the Evening Post, 178, 
 327,329; retires from the Evening 
 Post and establishes the Plaindealer, 
 332. 
 
 League, The Free Trade, 182, 210. 
 
 Leroux, Pierre, 189. 
 
 " Letters of a Traveler," 198. 
 
 Leutze, Mr., one of the contributors to 
 the portfolio presented by the artists 
 of the Century to Mr. Bryant on his 
 seventieth birthday, 231. 
 
 Licinus, Caesar s barber, lines on, 216. 
 
 Lincoln, Abraham, 80, 106 ; first meet 
 ing with Bryant, 177; lectures in 
 New York, 218. 
 
 Longfellow, descended from John Al- 
 den of the Mayflower, 3; deplores 
 the drudgery of his life as a profes 
 sor, 92 ; Evangeline, 223. 
 
 Lowell, James Russell, 223; poem 
 read at the celebration of Bryant s 
 seventieth birthday, 227. 
 
 Lyell, Dr., 183. 
 
 Magazine, The Atlantic, 55. 
 Magazine, The New York Review and 
 
 Athenseum, 60. 
 Malherbe, 156, note. 
 
 Mason, Charles, temporarily in charge 
 of the Evening Post, 331. 
 
 Mayflower, the ship, 3. 
 
 Mazzini, 214, 297. 
 
 McEntee, W., contributor to the port 
 folio presented by the artists of the 
 Century to Bryant on his seventieth 
 birthday, 231. 
 
 McFingal, 47. 
 
 McGuire, address as Speaker of the 
 Assembly to Bryant, 240. 
 
 Mechanics Bank, anecdote of J)hn 
 Randolph, 209. 
 
 Mexico, 111, 197. 
 
 Milnes, Monckton, 182. 
 
 Milton, John, 91, 92, 152, 158. 
 
 Mitchell, Ellen T., 346. 
 
 Moll, M., his argument against the rev 
 olution of the earth on its axis, 212. 
 
 Montgomery, James, appearance de 
 scribed, 183. 
 
 Moore, Tom, Bryant meets him at 
 breakfast, 182 ; Rogers anecdote of, 
 187. 
 
 Morse, Professor, tribute to, by Bry 
 ant, 204. 
 
 Mullins, Priscilla, ancestor both of 
 Bryant and Longfellow, 3. 
 
 Murray, John, declines to publish 
 Bryant s poems, 119, 121. 
 
 Mythology, Bryant lectures on, 64. 
 
 New York city, dirty, noisy, uncom 
 fortable, and dear, 87. 
 
 New York Historical Society, Bryant 
 reads a poem before, on its fiftieth 
 anniversary, 150. 
 
 New York Review, 61. 
 
 Nordhoff, Charles, 272. 
 
 Occasional poems, Bryant not a writer 
 
 of, 148. 
 Odyssey, Bryant s translations from 
 
 fifth book, 160. 
 Old age, 220. 
 
 Osgood, Rev. Samuel, 275. 
 O Sullivan, John L., 338. 
 
 Paine, Robert Treat, 48. 
 
 Parsons, Chief Justice, 398, note. 
 
 Parsons, Theophilus, 56. 
 
 Paulding, James, 217. 
 
 Paupertas, audax, 21. 
 
 Phi Beta Kappa Society, reads " The 
 Ages" before, 52, 148, 213. 
 
 Phillips, Willard, editor of The North 
 American Review, 1, 38-40. 
 
 Pierce, President Franklin, 105. 
 
 Pierpont, Rev. John, tribute to Bry 
 ant on his seventieth birthday, 223, 
 225, 227. 
 
 Plaindealer, The, letter to, from 
 
354 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Washington Irving, 129 ; established 
 by William Leggett, 332. 
 
 Plainfield, Bryant begins the practice 
 of the law at, 34 ; writes the lines 
 " To a Waterfowl " at, 42. 
 
 Platt, John H., an executor of Bry 
 ant s will, 346. 
 
 Pope, Alexander, his paper-saving 
 habit, 110; advised to make " cor 
 rectness his great aim," 155 ; Bryant 
 flitters with, about the necessity of 
 rhyme for a translation of Homer, 
 163 ; his Homer not all his own 
 work, 1G8 ; Bryant s pocket com 
 panion, 292. 
 
 Poverty, enterprising, 21. 
 
 Powers, Rev. R. N., tribute to Bry 
 ant on his seventieth birthday, 226 ; 
 discourse on Bryant before the Chi 
 cago Literary Club, 237 ; Bryant s 
 estimate of Grant in a letter to, 
 242. 
 
 "Quaker poet," The, tribute to Bry 
 ant on his seventieth birthday, 231. 
 Quarles, 93. 
 
 Randolph, John, demands cash for a 
 note of the Mechanics Bank of New 
 York, 209. 
 
 Read, T. Buchanan, tribute to Bryant 
 on his seventieth birthday, 225. 
 
 Review, New York, 61. 
 
 Review, North American, 1, 2, 27, 39, 
 40, 46, 56. 
 
 Review, United States, and Literary 
 Gazette, 65. 
 
 Richards, Joseph H., 260. 
 
 Riker, Richard, 323. 
 
 Ripley, George, 214. 
 
 Robinson, Crabb, 184. 
 
 Rogers, Samuel, Bryant s poems dedi 
 cated to, by Irving, 122 ; his opinion 
 of, 123. 
 
 Roslyn, 94, 288, 307, 343, 344. 
 
 Ruppaner, Dr., 253. 
 
 Russian Academy of St. Petersburg 
 elects Bryant an honorary member, 
 232. 
 
 Sands, Robert C., 56, 68, 325. 
 Scott, Walter, 184. 
 Scribner s Monthly on Bryant, 303. 
 Sedgwick, Miss Catharine M., 54, 55, 
 
 225. 
 
 Sedgwick, Charles, 54, 148. 
 Sedgwick, Henry, 55, 09, note. 
 Sedgwick, Professor, 183. 
 Sedgwick, Robert, 54, 56. 
 Sedgwick, Theodore, Jr., 85, note. 
 Sewell, Rev. Mr., 54. 
 fiigourney, Miss, 223. 
 
 Slave trade in New York, 315. 
 
 Smith, Goldwin, 225. 
 
 Bnell, Ebenezer, 4, 295. 
 
 Snell, Josiah, 3. 
 
 Snell, Sarah, 5. 
 
 Snell, Thomas, 11. 
 
 Southey, Robert, 187. 
 
 Sparks, Jared, 56. 
 
 Spencer, Herbert, 189. 
 
 Sprague, tribute to Bryant on his sev 
 entieth birthday, 225. 
 
 Stedman, E. C., tribute to the memory 
 of Bryant, 309. 
 
 Stockbridge, 35. 
 
 Stoddard, Richard Henry, tributes to 
 Bryant, 201, 225, 229, 309. 
 
 Strong, Caleb, Governor, gives Bryant 
 a commission in the Massachusetts 
 army, 32. 
 
 Sturges, Jonathan, 232. 
 
 Sumner, Charles, 196. 
 
 Swift, Dean, 171. 
 
 Talisman, The, Bryant contributes to, 
 68. 
 
 Tallmadge, N. P., driven out of the 
 Democratic party, 333. 
 
 Taylor, Bayard, tributes to Bryant. 
 225-309. 
 
 " Thanatopsis," 1, 40, 174. 
 
 Thompson, Mr., shot in a duel by 
 Coleman, 317. 
 
 "Thoughts on the Religious Life," 
 Bryant s preface to, 275. 
 
 Tilden, Governor Samuel J., Ill ; 
 gives Bryant a reception at the cap- 
 itol, 238; Bryant favorable to his 
 nomination for governor, 242 ; Bry 
 ant declines to serve as an elector 
 on the Tilden presidential ticket, 
 244; his opinions of Tilden, 247, 
 250. 
 
 " To a Waterfowl," 42-44, 67. 
 
 Trumbull, his verse, 46, 47. 
 
 Tuckerman, H. T., 225. 
 
 Tweed, William M., a monument to 
 his memory excluded from Central 
 Park, 216. 
 
 Tyler, President John, 338. 
 
 United States Literary Gazette, 56. 
 United States Review and Literary 
 Gazette, 65. 
 
 Van Buren, President Martin, 185, 337. 
 "Vates, Patriae," 229. 
 Verplanck, Gulian C., 68, 111, 119, 
 203, 217, 237. 
 
 Walker, Dr., 225. 
 
 Walsh, William, his advice to Pope, 
 155. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 355 
 
 Washington, George, Bryant s poem 
 on his birthday, 174. 
 
 Waterfowl, To a, 42-44, 67. 
 
 Waterston, Rev. Mr., administers the 
 communion to Bryant, 281. 
 
 Whittier, John Greenleaf, tribute 
 to Bryant on his seventieth birth 
 day, 223, 225. 
 
 Williams, Clifton, 47. 
 
 Williams College, 17, 148, 206. 
 
 Willis, N. P., tribute to Bryant on his 
 seventieth birthday, 223, 229. 
 
 Wilson, James Grant, account of the 
 
 death of Bryant, 298. 
 Wordsworth, William, wears Rogers 
 
 clothes to court, 128 ; Bryant s visit 
 
 to, 184 ; Rogers anecdote of, 187. 
 Worthington, Bryant commences the 
 
 study of law at, 25, 268. 
 Wotton, Sir Henry, quoted, 157. 
 
 Yale College, 18. 
 Young, Dr., 151. 
 
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