Isles, letters of introduction were delivered to Lockhart, son-in-law and biographer of Sir Walter Scott, and to Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle, with the last of whom the Americans were particularly charmed, and to many others of less note. Indeed, the year and a half at their disposal might easily have been spent among friends in England. But Longfellow still had German on his hands, this time with the addition of the Scandinavian dialects; and the memory of his former experience advised haste. So, after a vacation of three weeks, he went to Stockholm. The whole of the time, to December, 1836, was divided between Germany and Switzerland. In Heidelberg Longfellow experienced his first great sorrow - the death of his wife, in November, 1835.

Harvard, which was the scene of Longfellow's activities from 1836 to 1854, was a far more attractive place than Bowdoin. True, much was expected of the professors. There were collegiate traditions to be maintained. Harvard teachers have always been scholarly men. Longfellow's predecessor in the chair of modern languages was equally distinguished as a student and as a writer. On the other hand, Harvard had something to give in compensation: Cambridge was the centre of a circle of men interested in literary matters. Longfellow knew well the value of the privilege of associating with men of similar tastes.

Before many years had passed, he himself had become the centre of a group of poets called now in the books the "Cambridge School." In the event, both the college and the town discovered that the professor had conferred upon them more honor than they had conferred upon him. Upon his arrival he sought, first of all, congenial quarters. He found them in Craigie House, then dear to the hearts of Cantabs for its historical associations; since hallowed, in addition, as the residence of the poet, to whom it was presented by Mr. Nathan Appleton, in 1843. The poet married Mr. Appleton's daughter, and the house was a wedding gift. In 1836, however, the house belonged to an eccentric widow, who supported herself mainly by lodging students, and was, consequently, unduly prejudiced against that class of men. She consented to receive Longfellow upon being assured that he was not a student, and that he was the author of Outre-Mer; and as a mark of special honor assigned him the room General Washington had once occupied. Here he prepared the one lecture a week the college required of him; here he wrote his poems; here he met his friends, Felton, professor of Greek, Sumner, lecturer in the law school, Hillard and Cleveland, lawyers, with whom he formed a society called the "Five of Clubs." Henceforth, Longfellow becomes more interesting to us as a writer than as a professor, and we

shall consider him from the former point of view only.

Outre-Mer was the literary product of the author's first sojourn in Europe; Hyperion is the literary product of the second. In the meantime his ideas had matured; his vision had clarified; as a result, the latter work has more consistency than the former; the sketches are bound together by means of a hero and a heroine, and almost rise to the dignity of a romance. Hyperion has even an autobiographic value, the hero representing, in a large measure, the author himself. The same year that saw the publication of the romance was marked by the appearance of the first volume of poems- The Voices of the Night (1839).

Into this volume Longfellow inserted poems lately published in the magazines, such earlier verses as he wished to preserve, and a number of translations. It was a belated publication. Most poets have expressed themselves in no uncertain tònes long before the age of thirty-two. But for this very reason we may expect to find in the Voices illustrations of the author's habitual ways of thinking and writing. Their most striking characteristics are love of nature- especially for her suggestiveness, didacticism, and in the translations a facility in versifying which was used effectively later in the ballads.

It is nature in her calmer moods that attracts the

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poet. "When woods are green and winds are soft and low," he liked to "lie amid some sylvan scene,' watch the play of sunshine and shadow, listen to the voices of the air, and dream away his time with the heroes of the legends he had read. Spring suggests the renewal of youth. A genuine lotus-eater was Longfellow. But does not the "fearful wintry blast" succeed "soft rays of sunshine"? Nature has a serious side, too, which finds a parallel in the individual life. There must be an end of dreaming, then; more important themes must occupy him henceforth: he must sing the sorrows and delights of the human heart. So the Prelude sets forth his poetical creed. The field to be covered is a broad one, and it did not fall to the author's lot to exhaust his subject. Nor did he treat both sides equally. The prevailing note of the Voices is one of gloom and sadness, as the Hymn to the Night, The Reaper and the Flowers, The Light of Stars, Flowers, The Beleaguered City, Midnight Mass for the Dying Year, and Footsteps of Angels, will abundantly illustrate. With reference to the last the excuse may be offered that it was written in memory of his wife. It is the one poem in the series that sprang from genuine feeling.

The Psalm of Life will stand as the representative of Longfellow's didacticism. The questions, What is poetry? and What are the objects of poetry? are not

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easily answered. As poetry is designed to be read, the individual reader, by accepting what is pleasing and rejecting the rest, must answer such questions for himself. According to their own inclinations, poets do or do not make verse the vehicle of direct instruction. Critics will continue to argue as to the proper vehicle for such instruction prose or verse. poets set out to represent "the true, the beautiful, and the good." Which is the greater he who treats the first and second so cleverly as to suggest the third, or he who subordinates the true and the beautiful and thrusts the third upon the reader, willing or unwilling? The latter form of didacticism easily runs into sermonizing; when a dogma is championed we have a veritable abuse of verse. Longfellow's serious view of life imposed upon him the necessity of teaching. His Puritan education grounded him firmly in the received principles of religion. Broad sympathies saved him from dogmatism. Now Longfellow was not the only person who held such views; but he expressed them. One can therefore readily understand how the Psalm, proclaiming faithful performance of duty, hope of immortality, and the responsibility resting upon each one for his neighbor's well-being, should have found quick response in many hearts. the merit of poetry is to be measured by its effect, surely The Psalm of Life belongs among the master

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