a real and stirring call to arms, as generous as such appeals may be. "Charleston" is utterly unsullied by any emotion lower than fine and solemn resolution. "Christmas" is a lovely song of hope for peace. Considered thus, bit by bit, and more strikingly still, when considered in the light of 20th century war poetry, what Timrod wrote in the heat of the conflict is remarkably magnanimous. If he had never shown anger in a single line the total effect would have been rather flabby, as the utterance of a man who did not lose his temper because he had none to control; but Timrod blazed out just often enough to prove that he was genuinely large-hearted in his self-restraint.

The inevitable fact is that the immediate effect of war upon the arts is a blighting one. It is the one conclusion to be drawn from the works of any poet who has also written in times of peace, and it is a conclusion to be derived even from Timrod's best known poem. The theme of the poem is a noble one, and has been frequently attempted. It is that the work of the farmer is the strengthening of the sinews of the world. Timrod felt this as Lanier was to see it a little later, and as Bryant had already done; and with a cotton boll in his hand he found in it a spell that unfolded before him a vista as broad as the world-a world in which he visioned an idealized commerce that "only bounds its blessings by mankind." But now in this fine mood of optimism the grim fact of war intruded on his calm as he weaved his woof of song, and in a moment, in spite of every effort to keep himself in hand, he was berating the "Goth" even while resolving to be merciful to him. The poet who always keeps his balance in wartimes must be either superhuman or subhuman. Personal hardship Timrod endured without flinching. In the face of the ghastly devastation wrought by Sherman's army, the scars of which are still to be seen, he had no word except one of hope for the reconstruction which he did not live to behold:

A time of peaceful prayer,

Of law, love, labor, honest loss and gain-
These are the visions of the coming reign
Now floating to them on this wintry air.

Timrod, Lanier and Poe each lived less than forty years, and Timrod slightly less than either of the others. Of the three, all ill-fated, his lot was perhaps the hardest and his development was less complete; but in his poetry he came to closer grips with life than they. The worlds of the other two were more subjective, and their interest in art was vastly more involved in problems of technique; so much so, that the reader often forgets what they are saying in his attention to the way in which they are expressing it. But Timrod, who in his youth was lamentably imitative and self-conscious, was redeemed as an artist in the ordeal by battle, and in his later work spoke simply and truly as one who was talking in his native idiom.

PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE (1830-1886)

Hayne was born in Charleston, South Carolina, on New Year's Day, 1830. He was a student in Charleston College, and grew up under the influence of his distinguished uncle, Robert Y. Hayne, remembered as the objective of Webster's "Reply," and as Senator for and Governor of his State. Before the opening of the Civil War, he published volumes of poems in 1855, 1857, and 1859, and in 1857 he became editor of the choice but short-lived Russell's Magazine. He was not strong enough for actual field service in the war, but was for a while a member of the Governor's staff. After the destruction of his home and library, he removed with his wife to "Copse Hill," Georgia, where he lived in rather splendid poverty till the end of his life. His writing brought him in a bare subsistence, but he would not submit to any other form of money-getting. He wrote abundantly for the periodicals, and brought out the following volumes: "Legends and Lyrics," 1872; edition of Timrod's poems, with introduction, 1873; "The Mountain of the Lovers and Other Poems," 1875; lives of Robert Y. Hayne and Hugh S. Legare, 1878, and Complete Poems, 1882. 1. Texts.

Complete Edition (his own selection), 1882, with biographical sketch by Margaret Preston.

II. Biography and Criticism.

There is no adequate biography of Hayne. The introduction to the selections in the Library of Southern Literature is well supplemented by his own reminiscences in the same volume reprinted from The Southern Bivouac. See also Paul Hamilton Hayne, S. A. Link, Pub. M. E. Ch. Soc., and the passages in the survey histories.

Paul Hamilton Hayne was a long way from being a great poet or a great man; yet in a secondary way he is significant as a real representative of a period and a locality. A man cannot be egregious without having a grex-or flock-from which to emerge, and in the Charleston of of Hayne's day there was a genuine literary flock. The chief of the clan was William Gilmore Simms, the most picturesque and vigorous of them all, as well as longest lived and the most prolific-a South Carolina combination of Dr. Johnson and Anthony Trollope, with a dash of G. P. R. James thrown in. Around him and John Russell, the bookseller, there rallied a group who were to Charleston what the frequenters of the Old Corner Book Store were to Boston, or the daily visitors to Putnam's offices were to New York.

We have Hayne's own description of the old city and the bookish people in it in a series of articles to the Southern Bivouac in the autumn of 1885, just before his death.

In a city which cared more for the art of living than for getting and spending, John Russell-a man of sufficient presence to have once been mistaken on a channel steamer for the English Prime Minister-made

his bookshop a social centre long before the social centre had been capitalized and turned into an institution. "Everybody" came to the store during business hours, and later in the day, in the back room, the men came together in the spirit of a literary club, though without organization or name. Russell's Magazine was just as natural a consequence of these meetings and the talk that took place in them, as was The Atlantic_of similar meetings in Boston at exactly the same time, or as had been The Dial sixteen years earlier. With its founding, young Hayne was made editor.

It was in work of this literary journalism that Hayne's talents should have been allowed to exercise themselves. He was a man certainly of no greater calibre than Aldrich and Howells and Gilder and Stoddard-all men of nice discrimination, poetic gifts and the consequent critical powers that are more often needed than secured in editorial offices. The reason that they all carried their editorships with such distinction was that each of them was in a way just a little too good for that sort of drudgery. Yet they were not much too good, for the highest creative abilities simply will not be chained to a desk. Furthermore, each of these other men continued to write, as well as to market other people's writings, and each of them grew steadily in power. But a career like theirs was denied to Hayne by the fact that Charleston was in the path of the war. Russell's was discontinued in 1860 never to be revived, and Hayne was forced into the most precarious of existences-that of writing for a living. The result was unfortunate not only to his purse but to his productive powers as well. He had to force himself, and he wrote, in consequence, the sort of poetry that must be the result of industry and good-will.

Much of it was in the form of occasional poetry, with the result that the public fell into the habit of looking to him for the ready delivery of a few appropriate verses on demand, and that, worse still, he came to regard all sorts of events as necessary subject-matter for poetical treatment. Thus he wrote for ceremonies all the way from the Carolina Art Association Anniversary in 1856 to the International Cotton Exposition twenty-five years later. He got into the way of doing the conventional 19th century thing, regardless of any connection with his own experience or even observation: dramatic sketches located in Westmoreland, Savoy, Candia; legends of Greece, Sicily, Brittany, India, Australia, "The Coast of Astolf," Paradise, which were all equally legendary to him; and always, betweentimes, sonnets and yet more sonnets. Had Russell's survived, or could some other magazine have demanded him after the war, the blue pencil would have usurped most of his time, and might have made him more self-critical when he took up the pen.

The work of Hayne's that counts for most is contained in the poems which touched the universal through the simple and unpretentious treat ment of native themes. Some of his war lyrics are effective, though not up to the best of Timrod's. Some of his post-bellum protests are as vigorous as need be, but far less vitriolic than they might have been.. "South Carolina to the States of the North" and "The Stricken South to the North" suggest of the Reconstruction Period what Tourgee's novel, "A Fool's Errand," presents in detail, and with an equal combination

of candor and charity. And Hayne's poems of nature ring finely true. Of these, the most impressive are, of course, not the ones in which he protests his passion in abstract terms, but those in which he reveals his "intimate knowledge and delight." Most of all, the southern pine fascinates him by its perennial grace and strength and its mysterious voices. A pine tree anthology could be culled from his verses. He was at his best when he turned to "something in the pastoral line."

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW (1807-1882)

Henry Wadsworth. Longfellow, descended on his mother's side from Priscilla Alden, was born in Portland, Maine, February 27, 1807. He was the second of eight children. His mother read Cowper, Hannah More and "Ossian" to the family; these, with the "Sketchbook," formed the poet's literary taste. His first verses appeared in the Portland Gazette in 1820. The home library contained Milton, Pope, Dryden, Moore, and "Don Quixote"; Gray and Chatterton he discovered in college, and he thus early acquired that mild romanticism which never left him.

In 1822 Longfellow matriculated as a sophomore at Bowdoin College, where Hawthorne was a classmate. His college career was marked by exemplary conduct, a few melancholy poems (a "Dirge Over a Nameless Grave" is an early production!), and a seven-minute commencement address on "Our Native Writers." In spite of parental opposition, he early determined on a literary career; upon his graduation in 1825 the trustees of the college, impressed, it is said, by a translation of Horace, and desirous of emulating Harvard, offered the professorship of modern languages to Longfellow. As European preparation was made a condition of the offer, the young professor sailed for France in 1826. Upon this journey he mastered the Romance languages and acquired material for several prose sketches, culminating in "Outre-Mer" (1835), a frank imitation of Irving.

Upon his return in 1829 he began teaching. In those Arcadian days, Longfellow had to prepare his own textbooks and serve, besides, as the college librarian. His modest salary ($900) enabled him to marry, however, in 1831, the bride being Mary Story Potter. He had time, too, to publish his sonorous translation of the Coplas of Jorge Manrique (1833) it was the time of our interest in things Spanish-a book which secured for him Ticknor's approbation and the appointment to Harvard as his successor. Again a European journey prefaced the poet's college work; the Longfellows sailed for England in 1835, visiting northern Europe so that the poet could familiarize himself with the Teutonic languages. On this trip he fell under the spell of German romanticism, especially of Richter, and on this journey Mrs. Longfellow died (1835).

Longfellow began teaching at Harvard the following year, holding the chair, despite growing distaste for his occupation, until 1854. In 1839 he published "Hyperion," a romance of the Werther school, and once a guidebook for Americans in Germany. "Voices of the Night," his first important book of verse, containing "A Psalm of Life," "The Reaper and

the Flowers," and other popular favorites, appeared that same year. The "Ballads"-"The Skeleton in Armor," "The Wreck of the Hesperus" and others were printed two years later. After his third voyage to Europe, on which he met Freiligrath, a life-long friend, he brought out seven "Poems on Slavery," an extremely mild contribution to polemics. "The Spanish Student," a play in verse, appeared in 1842.

On this last journey Longfellow wrote:

Half of my life is gone, and I have let
The years slip from me and have not fulfilled
The aspiration of my youth, to build
Some tower of song with lofty parapet

sorrow, and a care that almost killed,
Kept me from what I may accomplish yet.

He was searching at once for peace and for something more substantial than swallow-flights of didactic song. Domestic happiness, which he most needed, came in 1843, with his marriage to Fanny Appleton, who helped him with his next work, an anthology, "Poets and Poetry of Europe" (1845). He wrote in December of that year: "Peace to the embers of burnt-out things; fears, anxieties, doubts, all are gone." "The Belfry of Bruges and Other Poems" (1846) marks the transition to his middle period.

Longfellow's best work was done from 1845 to 1861. In this epoch he began to write narrative verse, and his three great American poems appeared, "Evangeline" in 1847, "The Song of Hiawatha" in 1855, and "The Courtship of Miles Standish" in 1858. "The Seaside and the Fireside," containing "The Building of the Ship" (almost the only reflection in his verse of the troubles of the republic) and his finest sea-lyrics, appeared in 1849. In that same year he took up "the sublimer Song whose broken melodies have for so many years breathed through my soul .. whose message should furnish some equivalent expression "for the trouble and wrath of life, for its sorrow and mystery." This was the conception of his trilogy, "Christus: A Mystery," which dominated his literary life. The second part, and by far the best, "The Golden Legend," was published in 1851. He began in 1860 the series of narrative poems which were published as "Tales of the Wayside Inn" (1863).

The great break in the poet's life came in 1861 with the tragic death of his wife. For a time he kept up desultory production, but his great work was the translation of Dante (1867-70). His last years were, like Browning's, a period of steady literary production, increasing fame, hosts of friends, and no great change in poetic achievement. "The Bells of San Blas" is to Longfellow what the "Epilogue to Asolando" is to Browning. He completed his trilogy with "The New England Tragedies" (1868) and the "Divine Tragedy" (1871). The second part of the Wayside Inn appeared in 1872 (in "Three Books of Song"), the third in 1873 (in "Aftermath"). "The Hanging of the Crane" was written in 1874, the year of "Morituri Salutamus." His last volume bore the pathetic title, "Ultima Thule" (1880). He died March 24, 1882.

A posthumous collection of lyrics, "In the Harbor," was brought out in 1882, and the following year saw the publication of "Michael Angelo, A Fragment," the moving utterance of the poet's serene old age. Those