daring pencillings, if we may be allowed a term from a kindred art, the shading of supernatural incidents is made to fall with startling effect, and here and there a trait of softest light, mingles sweetly with the general sternness of the piece. The style is terse and strong. Few words, chosen with consummate art, and constructed with singular power, each being necessary to give the full meaning, and not always doing that, form its leading characteristic.-FELTON, CORNELIUS CONWAY, 1834, Dana's Poems and Prose Writings, Christian Examiner, vol. 15, p. 397.

The

The poetical literature of our country can scarcely be said to have a longer date than that of a single generation. As a matter of fact, the very fathers of it are still living. It really commenced with Bryant's "Thanatopsis" and Dana's "Buccaneer." grave, philosophic tone, chaste simplicity of language, freedom of versification, and freshness and truth of illustration, which marked the former poem, and the terse realism of the "Buccaneer," with its stern pictures of life and nature drawn with few strokes sharp and vigorous as those of Retzsch's outlines, left the weak imitators of an artificial school without an audience. -WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF, 1875, ed. Songs of Three Centuries, Preface, p. iv.

"The Buccaneer" is remarkable for its representation, equally clear, of external objects and internal moods of thought and passion. In one sense it is the most "objective" of poems; in another, the most "subjective." The truth would seem to be that Dana's over-powering conception of the terrible reality of sin-a conception almost as strong as that which was fixed in the imagination of Jonathan Edwards-interferes with the artistic disposition of his imagined scenes and characters, and touches even some of his most enchanting pictures with a certain baleful light.-WHIPPLE, EDWIN PERCY, 1876-86, American Literature and Other Papers, ed. Whittier, p. 40.

"Dana's imagination has none of the frisky lightness and celerity of an Ariel, but, combining something of the wild grandeur of a Salvator with the imposing darkness of a Rembrandt, is intent upon transferring to his sombre canvas the effect of crime to beget more appalling crime, to dry up the founts of human feeling in the soul, to blast the springing shoots of tenderness and manliness and honor in the heart, to render the

man more cruel as he becomes more callous, to banish him from the circle of human sympathies and affections, and to separate him from the companionship of his kind by the solitariness of his unparalleled atrocities, till he becomes unendurable even to himself; and at last, stung by the ghost of unbidden memories, preyed upon by remorse, and maddened by spectral fears and terrors, he plunges beneath the angry waves of black despair."-DESHLER, CHARLES D., 1879, Afternoons with the Poets, p. 277.

"The Buccaneer," on which Dana's reputation rests, is a very striking and graceful poem, dealing with a ghastly story of crime on the high seas which is a little out of keeping with a style as cold and severe as that of Akenside. It is written, moreover, in an unattractive stanza, of which this is an example:

"A sweet, low voice, on starry nights,
Chants to his ear a plaining song;
Its tones come winding up the heights,
Telling of woe and wrong;

And he must listen, till the stars grow dim, The song that gentle voice doth sing to him." But the poem is well composed, and must be judged, not by the standard of to-day, but by that of the "Corsairs" and "Jacquelines" in competition with which it was written. In Dana's other poems he shows himself a tamer and less stately Bryant, always graceful, and sometimes very felicitous, preferring, however, the heroic measure to Bryant's eighteenth-century blank verse.GOSSE, EDMUND, 1879, Mr. Richard Henry Dana, Senior, The Academy, vol. 15, p. 144.

In depicting the strongest human feelings and emotions, such as avarice and cruelty, bravado and cowardice, defiance and remorse, the poem possesses a certain power that both fascinates and repels the reader. There are passages of remarkable beauty that are almost sublime, yet one finishes its perusal with the feeling that the poet's execution falls short of the high design. There is a lack of melody in spite of its elaborate finish, as well as a lack of those essentials that appeal to the sympathies of the reader, and leave indelible impressions upon his memory. It is neither a great nor beautiful poem. . The great Scotch critic was perhaps correct in declaring, "We pronounce it by far the most powerful and original of American poetic compositions." -ONDERDONK, JAMES L., 1899-1901, History of American Verse, p. 124.

GENERAL

Notwithstanding the cold reception it ["The Idle Man"] met with from the public, we look upon as holding a place among the first productions of American literature. It will be referred to hereafter, we doubt not, as standing apart from the crowd of contemporary writings, and distinguished by a character of thought and expression peculiarly its own. . . . He seems to have fixed his attention only upon what he thought the permanent qualities of literature, and his work is one which will be read with the same pleasure a century hence, as at the present time. . . . The style of "The Idle Man" is genuine mother English, formed from a study of the elder authors of the language, with now and then a colloquial expression of the humblest kind, elevated into unexpected dignity, or an obsolete word or phrase revived, as if on purpose to excite the distaste of the admirers of a stately or a modernized diction. It is free from all commonplace ornaments, from all that multitude of stock metaphors and

illustrations which have answered the uses of authors from time immemorial.-BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN, 1828, Dana's Poems, North American Review, vol. 26, p. 239.

In attempting to compress his language he is sometimes slightly obscure, and his verse is occasionally harsh, but never feeble, never without meaning. . . . All the writings of Dana belong to the permanent literature of the country. His prose and poetry will find every year more and more readers. -GRISWOLD, RUFUS WILMOT, 1842, The Poets and Poetry of America, p. 65.

Mr. Dana is, perhaps, our most original poet.

No American productions, with which we are acquainted, are characterized by such intense subjectiveness, or bear so deep an impress of individuality, as those of the author of the "Buccaneer." We feel in reading them, that the inward life of the man has found utterance in the rugged music of the poet. He seems never to have written from hearsay, or taken any of his opinions at second-hand. Perhaps this is to be attributed, in a great degree, to his habits of retirement. . . . In description, he excels, perhaps, all his American contemporaries.-WHIPPLE, EDWIN PERCY, 1844, Poets and Poetry of America, Essays and Reviews vol. 1, pp. 44, 46.

I fear, owing a very large portion of his reputation to his quondam editorial connec

tion with the "North American Review."POE, EDGAR ALLAN, 1846, The Literati, Works, ed. Stedman and Woodberry, vol. VIII.

Mr. Dana is a writer of great purity and power, of much acuteness and elegance in other walks than in those of philosophic sentiment, or of sentimental description; but in those he is a master, and ranks first among his contemporaries and countrymen. He has vast power in depicting the struggles of the darker passions, jealousy, hatred, suspicion and remorse. "Paul Felton" has touches of Byronic force, and discloses a similar vein to that so fully opened, and with such popular effect, in the works of Godwin and Charles Brockden Brown. In "Paul Felton," Mr. Dana has exhibited power in depicting passion, as well as sentiment; and the same criticism applies to his "Thornton," though in a much inferior degree. Yet he is most at home in pictures of domestic life; in describing the charm of home-scenes, in realizing the ideals of con

jugal felicity. Strange that the author who,

as a man, is so enthusiastic on such a theme, should, as a poet (for he is one, as much in "Tom Thornton" and "Paul Felton," as in the "Buccaneer"), delight in pictures also of gloom, of crime, of remorse. . . . A writer, equally excellent in prose and poetry, seems to be regarded as a sort of intellectual bigamist. The narrowness of vulgar judgments will no more allow a twofold excellence than the law will allow of more than one wedded wife. It is hence, perhaps, the poetry of Dana has been underrated. His prose fiction is so powerful and fine, his criticism so acute and searching, his moral writing so deep and subtle, that with most critics his poetry must suffer in proportion.

Mr.

Griswold has pointed out its principal defect, occasional harshness, (almost inseparable from vigorous earnestness), while he has dwelt justly upon its depth and richness of thought Mr. Dana is essentially a philosophic poet, with perhaps more of thought than imagination; a reflective rather than a creative genius, we mean in degree and relatively. Most of his poetry is grave, and much of it religious. There is a spirituality about it, highly characteristic of the writer and the man. Domestic life, and childhood, and feminine. purity, are his favorite and frequent themes. -JONES, W. A., 1847, The Writings and Literary Character of R. H. Dana, American Review, vol. 5, pp. 270, 271.

Here comes Dana, abstractedly loitering along,
Involved in a paulo-post future of song,
Who'll be going to write what'll never be writ-

ten

Till the Muse, ere he thinks of it, gives him the mitten,

Who is so well aware of how things should be done,

That his own works displease him before they're begun,

Who so well all that makes up good poetry knows,

That the best of his poems is written in prose; All saddled and bridled stood Pegasus waiting, He was booted and spurred, but he loitered debating;

In a very grave question his soul was immersed,

Which foot in the stirrup he ought to put first, And, while this point and that he judicially dwelt on,

He, somehow or other, had written Paul Felton; Whose beauties or faults, whichsoever you see there,

You'll allow only genius could hit upon either. That he once was the Idle Man none will deplore,

But I fear he will never be anything more; The ocean of song heaves and glitters before him,

The depth and the vastness and longing sweep o'er him,

He knows every breaker and shoal on the chart,
He has the Coast Pilot and so on by heart,
Yet he spends his whole life, like the man in the
fable,

In learning to swim on his library table. -LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL, 1848, A Fable for Critics.

There are a simplicity and individuality about Dana's writings, which give him the decided impress of being a man of more originality than he really possesses. There is less reliance upon foreign sources for his subjects; he likewise treats them in a manner of his own, which compels the reader to respect him for his intention, if he cannot applaud him for the successful result of his experiment.-PoWELL, THOMAS, 1850, The Living Authors of America, p. 248.

The contents of the "Idle Man" have been long known to the lovers of Mr. Dana's writings. It is now nearly thirty years since that little publication was suspended, and nearly twenty, since its stories were collected, together with the poetry, and published in a single duodecimo volume. The most powerful of the fiction is "Paul Felton,"

-a terrible delineation of the course of a highly sensitive and educated mind, the victim of morbid feelings, perverting the

good and innocent into causes of suspicion and jealousy, and dragged, as by the power of fiends, along its wretched path of misery to murder, exhaustion, and death. To depict such scenes demands very high powers, -a profound insight into the heart, and a certain experience of the sorrows of a morbidly sensitive mind.-BROWN, S. G., 1851, Dana's Poems and Prose Writings, North American Review, vol. 72, p. 131.

Dana was really the first poet who possessed power enough to delineate the natural peculiarities of his country and to discover the romantic treasures lying hid in its history. SCHERR, J., 1874, A History of English Literature, tr. M. V., p. 300.

The life of Richard Henry Dana has special interest for all Americans, from the circumstance that it includes the entire literary history of the nation, not excepting Barlow's "Vision of Columbus," which appeared about the time of his birth. He has seen the whole achievement, of which he is an honored part. His own contribution to it is none the less important, because so unobtrusively made. He has never been one of those who attach themselves to the structure as a flying buttress, or seek to shoot aloft at an ornate and conspicuous pinnacle; but when we examine the foundations, we shall find his chisel-mark on many of the most enduring blocks.-TAYLOR, BAYARD, 1877, Richard Henry Dana, Essays and Notes, p. 278.

The general impression which the poetry of Richard Henry Dana leaves upon the mind is that he is not so much a poet as a man of vigorous intellect who had determined to be a poet, and that he reached this determination too late in life. He moves like one who is shackled by his measures, whether they are simple, as in "The Buccaneer," or of a higher order, as in "The Husband and Wife's Grave" and "The

Dying Raven." The literary career of Richard Henry Dana may be said to have practically ended with the publication of the little volume containing "The Buccaneer" (1827), though he afterward added to it as many more poems as were con- . tained therein (nine in all), and brought out a collected edition of his works in two volumes. STODDARD, RICHARD HENRY, 1879, Richard Henry Dana, Harper's Magazine, vol. 58, p. 775.

Brown's influence is apparent in two

novels of Richard Henry Dana, "Tom Thornton" and "Paul Felton," in which a more graceful, if still somewhat abrupt, style is employed, with almost equal vigour, if inferior originality, to illustrate similar monstrosities of character, on the basis of incidents almost equally unnatural, and directed to a moral purpose with such intensity that they are said to have rather frightened than amused their readers.NICHOL, JOHN, 1882-85, American Literature, p. 162.

The reader will not go to Dana for any original work in prose. He was a reader and lover of books, and brought good ones to America; wrote about them in the "Review;" and, with the Channings-who were his cousins with the Everetts, and Sparkses and Walkers, made a good centre about which a new literary culture formed itself; but after the literature began to grow, he was easily distanced by the young men who reverenced and outgrew him. Except for that rare and brilliant genius, William Ellery Channing, brought up in part like himself in Newport, he was the oldest of the group that welcomed Wordsworth and the Lake" people, and blessed them because they loved Nature-the only poetical thing, except his fireside and his liberty, which the New Englander then found to love.

MORSE, JAMES HERBERT, 1887, Richard Henry Dana, Sr., The Critic, vol. 11, p. 239.

His poems, published in 1827, under the title of "The Buccaneer, and Other Poems," were too psychological to be popular: but they picture with striking vividness both the outward and the inward world, and show a truly Calvinistic conception of the reality of sin. Their power is greater than their art: and their beauty is overshadowed by their gloom. Dana was one of those men who gave glimpses of powers apparently equal to any achievement, but who never -for whatever reason-achieve quite what is expected of them.-HAWTHORNE, JULIAN, AND LEMMON, LEONARD, 1891, American Literature, p. 116.

Wrote better prose than verse. "The Buccaneer" is based on a finely poetical sea-superstition, but is awkwardly told; all his poems seem manufactured, and most are dull. His reviews of Brown, Irving, and others, in The North American, are sensible, and the style is clear and strong. The tales, "Tom Thornton" and "Paul Felton" (in his periodical, The Idle Man,) have considerable power, although the didactism of the first is too obvious and the second is a rather violent imitation of Brown.-BRONSON, WALTER C., 1900, A Short History of American Literature, p. 170.

PERSONAL

Champion of those who groan beneath
Oppression's iron hand:

In view of penury, hate, and death,
I see thee fearless stand.

Still bearing up thy lofty brow,

In the steadfast strength of truth,

In manhood sealing well the vow

And promise of thy youth.

-WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF, 1833, To W. L. G.

The haters of Garrison have lived to rejoice in that grand world-movement which,

every age or two, casts out so masterly an agent for good. I cannot speak of that gentleman without respect. EMERSON, RALPH WALDO, 1844, Journal; A Memoir of Ralph Waldo Emerson, ed. Cabot, vol. II, p. 430.

In a small chamber, friendless and unseen, Toiled o'er his types one poor, unlearned young man;

The place was dark, unfurnitured, and mean;—
Yet there the freedom of a race began.
O small beginnings, ye are great and strong,
Based on a faithful heart and weariless brain!
Ye build the future fair, ye conquer wrong,

Ye earn the crown, and wear it not in vain. -LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL, 1848, To W. L. Garrison.

He never trifled, made no account of sharp points or minute particulars, was seldom humorous, not often sarcastic, and cared little for studied phrases. Although, to the surprise of most men, probably, there are more epigrammatic and pithy sayings in his speeches-"hits," as Brougham somewhat irreverently calls such burstsmots which will pass into literature-than can be culled from the orations of Webster. His tone was that of a grave and serious indictment; his whole soul freighted his words. Entirely forgetting himself, an intense earnestness melted everyone into the hot current of his argument or appeal, and the influence, strong at the moment, haunted the hearer afterward, and was doubled the next day. He was master of a style of singular elevation and dignity. Windham said the younger Pitt "Could speak a king's speech off-hand." So far as dignity of tone was concerned, Garrison could have done it. No American of our day could state a case, or indite a public document, with more wary circumspection, impressive seriousness, or grave dignity than he could. The "Declaration of Sentiments" by the convention which formed the American Antislavery Society, and that Society's statement of its reasons for repudiating the United States Constitution, have a breadth, dignity, and impressive tone such as are found in few, if any, of our state papers since the Revolution, when Dickinson, Jay, Hamilton, and Adams won such emphatic praise from Lord Chatham. -PHILLIPS, WENDELL, 1879, North American Review, vol. 129, p. 150.

He stands out in the same distinct relief among his contemporaries as against his predecessors; for while others of his own.

party equaled or surpassed him in genius, wit, eloquence, personal attractiveness, social position, ingenuity of attack, brilliancy of defense; yet by his clearness and integrity of nature he surpassed them all, and was the natural leader of all. However keen others might be in moral discernment, he was keener; however ably others might deal with a sophist, his exposition was sure to be the most cogent and convincing. To preserve this mastery among his associates he used no manœuvres, exerted no devices, asked no favors. He never attitudinized, and he never evaded; but his power in his own circle was as irresistible as the law of gravitation. He was never hurried or disconcerted or even vexed; indeed, he did not expend himself on special contests or fret about particular measures. Where others fought to win he simply bore his testimony, which in the end proved the path to winning. I well remember how, at the height of some fugitive-slave case, when it seemed to his associates as if the very gate of freedom turned on keeping that particular slave from bondage, he would be found at his compositor's desk-for he always set up his own editorials-as equable as ever, and almost provokingly undisturbed by the excitement of that fleeting hour.HIGGINSON, THOMAS WENTWORTH, 1885, William Lloyd Garrison, Century Magazine, vol 30, p. 588.

I never saw my father draw even a diagram, and he had not the least training in drawing; yet his penmanship was handsome, and wonderfully persistent in its uniformity. It was always, however, very labored and inflexible, and latterly he wrote much in pencil, having begun with quills, then taken to steel nibs, and sometimes used a gold pen. . . . His ambidextrousness abided with him to the end: he shaved himself with great facility, using either hand; at table he held his knife in his left. He was what would be called a handy man about the house, though not fertile in contrivances. He hung the window-shades and the pictures the latter with a good eye to symmetry, squareness, and general effect. He helped in everything. . . . He had neither a Scientific nor, strictly speaking, a poetic love of nature. He had no botanical knowledge whatever, and small cognizance of the varieties of trees or flowers. A solitary walk in the country could hardly have been congenial to him, at least as an