Tuckerman: Rejoice that peace is his at last!

John Keese was never a major literary figure, but he connected to many important writers and critics. He made his money mostly as an auctioneer and employee at the New York customs house, though he dabbled in the publishing world; his major work is an early anthology of American poetry (for which he often shared information with fellow anthology Rufus W. Griswold). A man of wit and humor, he suffered greatly when, on April 21, 1843, his son Willets drowned. Another in the literary circle, Henry Theodore Tuckerman (pictured), wrote of the tragedy in a poem titled "The Early Called." Keese included it the next year in his anthology The Mourner's Chaplet: An Offering of Sympathy for Bereaved Friends. That book was then bundled with Cypress Wreath: A Book of Consolation for Those Who Mourn, a similar anthology edited by Griswold (who had recently lost both his wife and his son).

Where are thy many fearful spells, O death!
In the sweet presence of thy guileless prey,
I grow enamored of thee, and my breath
Deepens with awe, before this lovely clay.

Hope's purest dews from out thy icy urn,
Fall on my heart, like an eternal balm,
With strange content to thee I fondly turn,
And bless thy holy and mysterious calm.

For here thy touch has chilled the fair and pure,
Hallowed what earth can never more debase,
Caused childhood's smile forever to endure,
And stamped on innocence immortal grace.

In every curve of that cold, placid brow,
I read high gifts, half latent, yet defined;
And trace in lineaments, all marble now,
Pledges of manhood's nobleness and mind.

Think ye that God would lift the summer stream,
To feed the clouds with earth-refreshing showers,
Yet never those high promises redeem—
Yielding to barren death angelic powers?

Think ye the love that wings the meanest seed
Will suffer thought to perish in its dawn?
And bid the germs of loftiest hope and deed,
Like insects die the moment they are born?

No! let the spring's first violets exhale
Their richest odors round his dreamless sleep;
Let leaves of freshest green and roses pale
With promise greet the eyes that o'er him weep.

For the young spirit that has passed away,
Like them brought sudden pleasure to the heart,
And with unconscious beauty, day by day,
Woke gladsome dreams too sacred to depart.

Tuckerman insists that those who survive do not mourn the dead infant as he has gone to heaven. Instead, he suggests we should weep for ourselves, who no longer have the pleasure of experiencing his playfulness and "his infant charms." He concludes, "rejoice that peace is his at last!"

Apparent neglect in Griswold's Temple of Fame

With its first edition in 1842, The Poets and Poetry of America became the defining anthology of American verse. Its editor, Rufus Wilmot Griswold, quickly became one of the most powerful literary figures of the day: Writers of all backgrounds, and all levels of success, did what they could to get into Griswold's favor. For his own part, Griswold claimed no personal bias in his selections (though his generous section on his friend Charles Fenno Hoffman was questionable).

In the next decade or so, however, Griswold's reputation took a dive. His posthumous attacks on Edgar Allan Poe certainly left him open to public controversy, but he also suffered privately from the awkward divorce from his second wife, followed by attacks from angry women who tried to break up his third marriage. His face was by then scarred from an explosion in his home, and his wife and daughter were in a horrific train accident in 1853 (his daughter was briefly pronounced dead; his other daughter had been taken from him to live with his second wife). Amid all this, Griswold was no longer the intimidating literary power he once was, leaving him open to attack from even the most minor of poets.

On November 8, 1855, David Bates wrote to him angrily for being excluded from the 10th edition of The Poets and Poetry of America. He wrote that he never asked to be part of the "Temple of Fame" that Griswold had created with his book. Once included, however, he assumed he would stay in its pages (as most others did):

Perhaps I have been too modest. I certainly never begged the honor, or claimed it as a right: and yet I feel that an Author, who has been favourably noticed by the press, both in England and America... deserved that much consideration at the hands of an American in the land that gave him birth.

Bates particularly argues that he is popular enough, and therefore his exclusion is inappropriate. His writing was in school texts, for example, and so he demanded to know why Griswold, this self-proclaimed arbiter of American poetic taste, had neglected him (slyly suggesting it was personal):

As you are doubtless aware of the popularity of some of my poems, will you be kind enough to inform me why I have been treated with apparent neglect, as I am not conscious of having ever wronged you in thought, word or deed.

Whatever the reason, Bates was not reinserted for the 1856 edition — the final edition before Griswold's death in 1857.

Genuine expression of an American mind

"She may readily be supposed to have that characteristic which is so rarely found among us, Americanism," wrote Rufus Wilmot Griswold in his preface to The Poetical Writings of Elizabeth Oakes Smith, dated June 10, 1845. "Her writings in their department may be regarded as the genuine expression of an American mind." Oakes Smith, according to Griswold, wrote to express her thoughts, not for notoriety. Even so, she published essays, tales, and criticism in addition to her poetry — all to the praise of Griswold, one of her greatest supporters. Through all her writings, he says, lies "the same beautiful vein of philosophy," which Griswold ultimately concludes is morality.

Among the most well-known poems in the collection are "The April Rain," "The Acorn," and the nearly 80-page The Sinless Child, which is broken into seven parts (and a section of notes). Indeed, Griswold (a licensed Baptist clergyman) would have approved of the religious message prevalent in most of the collection. Yet Oakes Smith was not as conventional or conservative as might first be presumed from his support. At 16 years old, she married a man nearly twice her age, a fellow poet and author named Seba Smith, but refused to use only his name. Even her children were named "Oakes Smith" (or "Oaksmith") rather than merely Smith. Five years after Griswold's endorsement/preface, she began a series of articles promoting women's rights (published by Griswold's some-time mentor Horace Greeley). At one point, she was considered for a leadership role among a group of women, but was denied the opportunity simply for wearing a dress that too fully exposed her neck and arms.

One particular poem in this collection expresses some of her frustration with life, "The Unattained":

And is this life? and are we born for this?—
To follow phantoms that elude the grasp,
Or whatsoe’er secured, within our clasp
To withering lie, as if each earthly kiss
Were doomed death’s shuddering touch alone to meet.
O Life! hast thou reserved no cup of bliss?
Must still THE UNATTAINED beguile our feet?
THE UNATTAINED with yearnings fill the breast,
That rob for aye the spirit of its rest?
Yes, this is Life; and everywhere we meet,
Not victor crowns, but wailings of defeat;
Yet faint thou not: thou dost apply a test,
That shall incite thee onward, upward still:
The present cannot sate, nor e’er thy spirit fill.

Griswold: purloining the fastest

The first issue of Brother Jonathan was published on July 1, 1839, edited by Parke Benjamin, and with a young Rufus Wilmot Griswold as his assistant. The New York-based publication came about three years before Griswold's anthology of American poetry made him one of the most famous critics in the country.

The Brother Jonathan was only four pages long — but they were very big pages. One friend wrote of it as "up-to-the-sky-to-be-lauded, biggest-of-all-possible-newspapers." They were lucky to take advantage of cheap postal rates at the time and, when they lost control of the newspaper to its publisher, they founded an identical publication called the New World. Oversized broadside newspapers became the rage, ushering a period dominated by "Mammoth Weeklies," as they were nicknamed.

More importantly, the editorial policies at these publications were to pirate previously-published works, including serialized works which had not yet published final installments. Further, Griswold and Benjamin published (read: "pirated") full-length novels in their pages and, under the name of "newspaper," they sold cheaper than actual books at 50 cents a copy, and enjoyed the cheap postal rates that came with the designation "newspaper." Competition drove prices even lower; some of the "Mammoth Weeklies" charged only 6 cents. Book publishers had to slash their own prices to keep up and, though the large format newspaper died out by mid-1844, the effect on the industry was long-lasting: previously, the average price of a new book was $2; it was now 50 cents.

Oddly, throughout it all, Griswold advocated the need for copyright law to prevent literary piracy. A contemporary editor said of Griswold, "He takes advantage of a state of things which he declares to be 'immoral, unjust and wicked,' and even while haranguing the loudest, is purloining the fastest."

*Note: The date for the first issue of Brother Jonathan comes from a biography of Griswold written decades after his death by his son William McCrillis Griswold (who barely knew his father). Much of the book is less than reliable.

Taylor: one so strong in hope, so rich in bloom

The poet Bayard Taylor died on December 19, 1878. Perhaps the worst part of his death was that he could no longer defend himself from being called "James Bayard Taylor" — never his legal name, though his parents did name him after politician James A. Bayard. The error comes from anthologist Rufus Wilmot Griswold, who encouraged the younger man to publish his poems. Taylor, certainly unable to predict the confusion over his name, dedicated that 1844 volume of poems to Griswold, "as an expression of kind gratitude for the kind encouragement he has shown the author." Griswold, who assisted in the publication of that book, also had "James Bayard Taylor" put on the title page, an error which continues to this day.

Perhaps on a happier note, Taylor's friend Christopher Pearse Cranch paid a posthumous tribute through a sonnet:

Can one so strong in hope, so rich in bloom
   That promised fruit of nobler worth than all
   He yet had given, drop thus with sudden fall?
   The busy brain no more its worth resume?
Can Death for life so versatile find room?
   Still must we fancy thou mayst hear our call
   Across the sea, with no dividing wall
   More dense than space to interpose its doom.
Ah then—farewell, young-hearted, genial friend!
   Farewell, true poet, who didst grow and build
   From thought to thought still upward and still new.
Farewell, unsullied toiler in a guild
   Where some defile their hands, and where so few
   With aims as pure strive faithful to the end.

Another poetic tribute came from Southern writer Paul Hamilton Hayne (appropriate, considering Taylor's attempts to reunite North and South through poetry). Hayne said this poem was inspired in part by a letter Taylor wrote to him only weeks before his death:

"Oft have I fronted Death, nor feared his might!—
To me immortal, this dim Finite seems
Like some waste low-land, crossed by wandering streams
Whose clouded waves scarce catch our yearning sight:
Clearer by far, the imperial Infinite!—
Though its ethereal radiance only gleams
In exaltations of majestic dreams,
Such dreams portray God's heaven of heavens aright!"

Thou blissful Faith! that on death's imminent brink
Thus much of heaven's mysterious truth hast told!
Soul-life aspires, though all the stars should sink;—
Not vain our loftiest Instinct's upward stress,—
Nor hath the immortal Hope shone clear and bold,
To quench at death, his torch in Nothingness!

More from another of Taylor's Southern admirers will be posted in a couple days.

Duyckincks, anthologies, and Young America

The second and final volume of the Cyclopedia of American Literature was published on December 15, 1855. Edited by the two brothers Evert Augustus Duyckinck and George Long Duyckinck, the book was meant to be a comprehensive biographical dictionary of notable (and not so notable) American writers. It was substantially successful and expanded volumes were published throughout the 19th century. Pictured here is a later edition with E. A. Duyckinck on the title page.

In their preface, the Duyckinck brothers explain their aims: "to bring together as far as possible... convenient for perusal and reference, memorials and records of the writers of the country and their works, from the earliest period to the present day." Further, they attempted to present as complete yet as brief a selection as possible in a printed format that is both affordable and attractive. They chose to be as open-minded as possible in their selections, including both poetry and prose, as well as humor and song (frequently ignored by other anthologists). Unlike Rufus Griswold's anthology of poetry, they made a concerted effort to represent the whole country, especially the South, and several women. The book even did not limit itself to "writers born in this country," but anyone who had written in the United States or about it.

Of course, it was Griswold himself who responded the loudest. In a long review, Griswold denounced the book for minor errors, and for not emphasizing New England writers (his own book was criticized for doing that). The angry response is not entirely surprising: both Griswold and the Duyckincks were competing to establish the literary canon. Further, their respective anthologies were politically motivated. Griswold, a Whig, had an elitist view of literature and took care to represent those with Whig leanings. The Duyckincks, leaders in the "Young America" movement, tried to bring the country together through balanced representation, while still highlighing writers with similar leanings like Cornelius Mathews.

Griswold had antagonized the movement earlier. In compiling his own anthology of prose (The Prose Writers of America), he purposely excluded Mathews and others. He rightfully predicted, "Young America will be rabid." Griswold and the Duyckincks carried on a rivalry for their entire lives.

Edgar Allan Poe is dead

He collected several anthologies, among the highest-selling books in the entire century. An influential editor, a prolific literary critic and essayist, and one of the most well-read men in the United States, Rufus Wilmot Griswold's reputation today rests on one obituary that he wrote. First published on October 9, 1849, in the New York Tribune, the obituary began:

Edgar Allan Poe is dead. He died in Baltimore the day before yesterday. This announcement will startle many, but few will be grieved by it... He had few or no friends. The regrets for his death will be suggested principally by the consideration that in him literary art lost one of its most brilliant, but erratic stars.

Griswold's description of Poe claimed his "choler" was quickly raised, that he was plagued with gnawing envy, and that he believed all people were villains. His career, said Griswold, was spent seeking success only for a "right to despise a world which galled his self-conceit." Much of Griswold's characterization of Poe was stolen verbatim from a work of fiction by Edward Bulwer-Lytton.

One of the earliest responses to Griswold's posthumous attacks on Poe came from George Lippard, the young Philadelphia novelist who considered Poe a mentor. In several articles, Lippard both defended Poe and attacked Griswold. At one point, he said that he would give more for Poe's toe nail than for "Rueful Grizzle's soul." Lippard predicted Poe's fate:

As an author his name will live, while three-fourths of the bastard critics and mongrel authors of the present day go down to nothingness and night. And the men who now spit upon his grave, by way of retaliation for some injury which they imagined they have received from Poe living, would do well to remember, that it is only an idiot or a coward who strikes the cold forehead of a corpse.

*The debate between Griswold and Lippard over the legacy of Poe continues this month (October 2010) at the Rye Arts Center in New York as part of their annual "POE: EVERMORE." The original script was written by me, your faithful American Literary Blogger; I'll also be performing as Mr. Lippard.

Birth of Phoebe Cary

Originally named Mount Pleasant, this small village in southwestern Ohio was renamed Mount Healthy in 1850, following an outbreak of cholera. It was in this town that poet Phoebe Cary was born on September 4, 1824; her older sister and fellow poet Alice Cary was born there four years earlier. Their family home is now a center for the blind and visually impaired.

The two sisters wrote poetry and were first collected in an anthology by Rufus Wilmot Griswold in 1848; Griswold also helped them publish their own book, The Poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary, in 1849. Its success inspired their move to New York. In that city, Phoebe published two books of her own poetry. Of the two sisters, Phoebe was the more outspoken one; she was involved with the women's rights movement and, for a time, she edited The Revolution, a newspaper published by Susan B. Anthony.

Phoebe's most famous poem is a hymn, "Nearer Home" — a somber piece which was often sung at funerals. However, she also had a humorous side and wrote many parodies (including one of Edgar Allan Poe and many of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow). One example is "Ballad of the Canal," a parody of James T. Fields's "Ballad of the Tempest":

We were crowded in the cabin,
Not a soul had room to sleep;
It was midnight on the waters,
And the banks were very steep.

'Tis a fearful thing when sleeping
To be startled by the shock,
And to hear the rattling trumpet
Thunder, "Coming to a lock!"

So we shuddered there in silence,
For the stoutest berth was shook,
While the wooden gates were opened
And the mate talked with the cook.

And as thus we lay in darkness,
Each one wishing we were there,
"We are through!" the captain shouted,
And he sat upon a chair.

And his little daughter whispered,
Thinking that he ought to know,
"Isn't travelling by canal-boats
Just as safe as it is slow?"

Then he kissed the little maiden,
And with better cheer we spoke,
And we trotted into Pittsburg,
When the morn looked through the smoke.

*The image above is from "Old Pictures," an online resource collecting historic images.

Birth of Fanny Osgood

Frances Sargent Locke was born on June 18, 1811 in Boston, Massachusetts, though most of her early life was spent in nearby Hingham. Years later, she submitted her first poems to Juvenile Miscellany, a publication edited by Lydia Maria Child. She met Samuel Stillman Osgood at the Boston Athenaeum; they married in 1835 and soon had three daughters. She often directed her poetry to her family.

In the late 1830s, living in London while her husband pursued his career as a painter there, "Fanny Osgood" (as she came to be known), published her first two collections of poems. After returning to the United States, she published about a half-dozen more. One of her biggest advocates was the influential editor/anthologist Rufus Wilmot Griswold, who called her work "forcible and original" as well as "picturesque." He believed she was constantly improving as well: "Every month her powers have seemed to expand and her sympathies to deepen." Griswold doted on her enough that it was rumored he was falling in love with her. Either way, Osgood's popularity among American women poets was truly unparalleled up to her early death in 1850.

Modern critics are on the fence with Osgood. Some dismiss the occasionally-flirtatious Osgood and some rate her work with the kind of sentimental, domestic poetry which deserves to be forgotten. One poem which would have feminist critics up in arms is "A Song," which asks a lover to "Call me a bird" before the narrator is locked in a cage, "ne'er dreaming of flight," but only existing to sing to entertain her lover. But the tenderness in some of her domestic works, particularly those addressed to her children, reveal a sincere motherly affection. Literary historian Emily Stipes Watts notes that these poems "are honest attempts to express thoughts and emotions never so fully expressed before by women in poetry" and depict a sincere concern for her daughters' development and well-being. Of course, making any generalization for such a prolific writer is impossible. Even choosing a sample is never fully representative, but I'll go with this one:

  Ah! woman still
  Must veil the shrine,
Where feeling feeds the fire divine,
  Nor sing at will,
  Untaught by art,
The music prison'd in her heart!
  Still gay the note,
  And light the lay,
The woodbird warbles on the spray,
  Afar to float;
  But homeward flown,
Within his next, how changed the tone!

  Oh! none can know,
  Who have not heard
The music-soul that thrills the bird,
  The carol low
  As coo of dove
He warbles to his woodland-love!
  The world would say
  'Twas vain and wild,
The impassion'd lay of Nature's child;
And Feeling so
Should veil the shrine
Where softly glow her fires divine!

Death of Fanny Osgood

Frances Sargent Osgood died of tuberculosis on May 12, 1850 at her home in New York. She suffered from the disease for years, possibly as far back as the mid-1840s when she had a friendship (or possibly a romantic relationship) with Edgar A. Poe.

By the end of her life, Fanny (as she was called) had lost her ability to speak. Her last word, "angel", was written with the intention of being mailed to her husband, the painter Samuel Stillman Osgood (who painted her portrait, right). She was buried in her parents' lot at Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Massachusetts. A year later, a collection of her writings was published by her friends in order to raise money for Osgood's memorial headstone. It was reissued as Laurel Leaves in 1854 with a biographical introduction by the anthologist Rufus Wilmot Griswold, who had served as a booster during her early career (Griswold may have had romantic feelings for her). Samuel Osgood took a long time installing her monument, but it was one which he designed himself. The current family marker was inspired by her poem "The Hand That Swept the Sounding Lyre":

The hand that swept the sounding lyre
  With more than mortal skill,
The lightning eye, the heart of fire,
  The fervent lip are still!
No more, in rapture or in woe,
  With melody to thrill,
     Ah, nevermore!

But angel hands shall bring him balm
  For every grief he knew,
And Heaven’s soft harps his soul shall calm
  With music sweet and true,
And teach to him the holy charm
  Of Israfel anew,
     Forevermore!

Love’s silver lyre he played so well
  Lies shattered on his tomb,
But still in air its music-spell
  Floats on through light and gloom;
And in the hearts where soft they fell,
  His words of beauty bloom
     Forevermore!

The metal lyre that topped the family monument at Mount Auburn had five strings representing the family. Four were cut by 1851: Osgood's two surviving daughters died the year after their mother, joining another daughter who died in infancy. Samuel Osgood, the last string on the lyre, died in 1885; his was the last wire cut.

Memorializing James Fenimore Cooper

James Fenimore Cooper died in September 1851. Despite a slightly abrasive personality, Cooper was immediately recognized as an American literary icon. So, about four weeks later, the editor Rufus Wilmot Griswold presented a resolution to the New York Historical Society to honor Cooper.

Calling him "an illustrious associate and countryman," "a masterly illustrator of our history," someone with "imminent genius" who was "honorable, brave, sincere, generous," Griswold helped organize a committee that became a veritable who's who of "Who are they??" — mostly-forgotten literary critics and writers: Parke Godwin, Fitz-Greene Halleck, George Pope Morris, James Kirke Paulding, Epes Sargent, Gulian Verplanck and, of course, the ubiquitous Nathaniel Parker Willis.

After a couple delays, the major ceremony was held on February 25, 1852 at Metropolitan Hall on Broadway (it was two years old at the time and would burn down two years later). The main address was given by Daniel Webster, then Secretary of State. Griswold himself held the role of co-secretary in organizing the event, though he may have served as Master of Ceremonies (I haven't seen evidence for this yet).

Remembrance letters were sent by Richard Henry Dana, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Samuel F. B. Morse, and Francis Parkman (and a whole bunch of obscure folks). Also speaking was Washington Irving, a somewhat controversial selection. Cooper and Irving were recognized early on for being progenitors of American writing, but they were not good friends. Cooper had antagonized Irving, once calling him a "double dealer" with low moral qualities, though Irving himself showed no animosity in return.

Irving later admitted his speech at Cooper's memorial was poorly-delivered. After him spoke William Cullen Bryant, who mentioned "an unhappy coolness" between Irving and Cooper; Irving was hoping that coolness would not come up. Even so, the event was recorded as a success; Elizabeth Oakes Smith was in the audience and, allegedly, was brought to tears. "The whole affair succeeded quite well," recorded Griswold.

Not quite so well, Dr. Griswold.

The committee hoped the event would raise enough money to honor Cooper with a large public statue. They fell short of their goal, raising less than $700. They gave the proceeds to another effort which led to a Cooper monument in Lakewood Cemetery — a marble pillar over 20-feet tall, surmounted by a statue of the author's most famous character, Leather-Stocking (a.k.a. Natty Bumpo).

 

*The image is from the James Fenimore Cooper Society.

Prohibition, temperance, and T. S. Arthur

On this day, January 16, in 1919, the 18th Amendment took effect in the United States — establishing 13 years of prohibition of the sale, manufacture, and consumption of alcohol. In honor of this "Noble Experiment," it's worth looking into some of the literary figures who believed in the sober lifestyle back in the 19th century.

Early in his career, editor/anthologist Rufus Wilmot Griswold advocated for a temperate lifestyle in the 1830s. Years later, he would come to enjoy vintage wines. Poet/abolitionist James Russell Lowell was a teetotaler for a (short) time after his marriage, likely due to the influence of his wife Maria White. His anti-alcohol stance was so strong for a time that his neighbor Henry Wadsworth Longfellow worried that Lowell would force him to destroy his wine cellar. Lowell, however, was infamous for his drinking while an undergraduate at Harvard and, perhaps, sneaking a few drinks when his wife wasn't looking.

Edgar A. Poe struggled to control what would now be called alcoholism throughout his short life. Aware of his problem, he went as long as 18 months without drinking at one point before finally looking for help. In 1849, he took a vow of sobriety and became a card-carrying member of the Sons of Temperance. Thirteen years before Leaves of Grass, Walt Whitman published a book called Franklin Evans; or, The Inebriate (1842) — a temperance novel. The poet later called the book "a damned rot" and said he was actually drunk when he wrote it.

Perhaps the most important anti-alcohol writer was Timothy Shay Arthur, the New York author of Ten Nights in a Bar-Room and What I Saw There (1854). The story is told by an infrequent visitor to a new tavern in Cedarville named Sickle and Sheaf, founded by Simon Slade. Over his ten visits, the narrator witnesses the downfall of the tavern owner, his guests, and the town in general — all because of alcohol.

According to the publisher's preface:

"Ten Nights in a Bar-Room" gives a series of sharply drawn sketches of scenes, some of them touching in the extreme, and some dark and terrible. Step by step the author traces the downward course of the tempting vender and his infatuated victims, until both are involved in hopeless ruin. The book is marred by no exaggerations, but exhibits the actualities of bar-room life, and the consequences flowing therefrom, with a severe simplicity, and adherence to truth.

Halfway through the novel, Slade the tavern-keeper is described by a character: "He does not add to the general wealth. He produces nothing. He takes money from his customers, but gives them no article of value in return —nothing that can be called property, personal or real." The book's chapter titles include "Some of the Consequences of Tavern-Keeping," "More Consequences," "Sowing the Wind" and (wait for it) "Reaping the Whirlwind." Alcohol leads to neglect, domestic abuse, gambling, and even murder. According to the book, not only is the tavern-keeper ruined, but also the entire town. "Does the reader need a word of comment on this fearful consummation?" the author asks at the end of one chapter. "No: and we will offer none."

During Prohibition (which lasted from 1920 to 1933), a feature film of Arthur's book was released, directed by William O'Connor (his other films were mostly Westerns), based on a 19th-century stage version adapted by William H. Pratt. Cheers!

*The image above is the bar room in question, from an early edition of Arthur's book.

Hoffman, Griswold, and 'The Poets and Poetry of America'

In a letter dated January 11, 1841, Charles Fenno Hoffman wrote to Rufus Wilmot Griswold about his personal biography. Griswold was preparing his important anthology The Poets and Poetry of America, a book which solidified its compiler as an influential arbiter of taste in American poetry, an advocate for "nationalism," and someone easily swayed by personal opinion. The book, published in 1842, collected over 80 poets in 476 pages. Each poet was introduced by a short biographical sketch.

Hoffman clarified to Griswold that, while editing his journal the American Monthly, he simultaneously contributed to the New Yorker, the Mirror, and "other journals, in all of which, among a variety of subjects, [I] wrote zealously in favor of international copyright." In the letter, Hoffman apologized for sounding egotistical. Griswold used much of Hoffman's wording in the final version of his biography.

When The Poets and Poetry of America was published, in fact, Griswold granted Hoffman more space than any other writer — a total of 45 poems (compared to three by Edgar Poe, 11 by Nathaniel Parker Willis, and 14 by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow). Hoffman's space allotment was double — yes, double — that of any other poet.

Which begs the question: Who the hell is Charles Fenno Hoffman?!?

Hoffman was a New York City-born author and poet. One-legged after an amputation at age 11, Hoffman helped establish the Knickerbocker Magazine (in honor of Washington Irving) in 1833. He published a couple travel books and a novel which fictionalized the so-called "Kentucky Tragedy." He published several volumes of poetry before going insane and being hospitalized in 1849. He spent 35 years in various insane asylums before dying in one in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania in 1884.

Hoffman was never popular as a poet, even within his own New York sphere. Griswold admitted that he allowed his personal friendship with Hoffman to influence his over-representation in the book. In fact, Griswold's selections made for the staunchest criticism for The Poets and Poetry of America (which sold out three editions in six months). Modern scholars note the book is nothing more than "a graveyard of poets" because writers like the insane, one-legged Hoffman are now virtually unknown.