ELMWOOD, CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS
WHERE JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL WAS BORN, AND
WHERE HE DIED
When Thomas Oliver, Lieutenant Governor and president of George III's provincial council, built his house in Cambridge about 1767, he did not dream that within nine years he would have to abandon it because of his allegiance to the same George III. But so it proved. He was a Tory, and his neighbors would not suffer him to remain among them. On September 2, 1774, he wrote his resignation of the offices he held, adding the statement, "My house at Cambridge being surrounded by five thousand people, in compliance with their command, I sign my name." At his request, made to General Gage and the admiral of the English fleet, troops were not sent to Cambridge, according to plan. "But for Thomas Oliver's intercession," Edward Everett Hale says, "Elmwood would have been the battle-ground of the First Encounters."
After his summary departure the house was used as a hospital by the Continental Army. When the government sold it at auction it became the property first of Arthur Cabot, then of Elbridge Gerry, a Signer of the Declaration of Independence, Governor of Massachusetts from 1810 to 1812, and Vice-President under Madison.
The next occupant was Rev. Charles Lowell, pastor of the West Church of Boston. He bought the property just in time to make it ready for his son, James Russell Lowell, who was born February 22, 1819.
As a boy James never wearied of rambling over the old house and the ten acres of ground, all that was left of the original ninety-five acres. Many of his poems contain references to the memories of these early years. "The First Snowfall," "Music," and "A Year's Life" are, in part, autobiographical. Lines on "The Power of Music" told of the days when he was his father's companion in the chaise, on the way to make a Sunday exchange of pulpits with a neighboring minister:
"When, with feuds like Ghibelline and Guelf,
Each parish did its music for itself,
A parson's son, through tree-arched country ways,
I rode exchange oft in dear old days,
Ere yet the boys forgot, with reverent eye,
To doff their hats as the black coat went by,
Ere skirts expanding in their apogee
Turned girls to bells without the second e;
Still in my teens, I felt the varied woes
Of volunteers, each singing as he chose,
Till much experience left me no desire
To learn new species of the village choir."
Life at Elmwood was interrupted by college days, but he returned to the Cambridge house with his wife, Maria Lowell. The oldest children were born here. Here, too, came the first great sorrow of the parents, the death of their first born. At that time Mrs. Lowell found comfort in writing "The Alpine Sheep," a poem that has helped many parents in a like time of bereavement.
The next great sorrow came during the Civil War, when the death from wounds was announced first of General Charles Russell Lowell, then of James Jackson Lowell, and finally of William Lowell Putnam, all beloved nephews. In the Biglow Papers, Second Series, the poet referred to these three soldiers. Leslie Stephen called the lines "the most pathetic that he ever wrote" in which he spoke of the three likely lads,
"Whose comin' step ther' 's ears thet won't,
No, not lifelong, leave off awaitin'."
During the closing year of the war, one of the students who attended his lectures on Dante at Harvard College wrote of a visit to his preceptor:
"I found the serene possessor of Elmwood in good spirits, ate a Graham biscuit and drank some delicious milk with him and his wife, then enjoyed a very pleasant conversation. He read some of Shakspeare's sonnets, to make me think better of them, and succeeded.... He gave me a very welcome copy of Macaulay's essays and poems, and the little visit was another oasis in school life's dearth of home sociability. Mabel, his only child, was not there at supper, but came home some time after: 'salute your progenitor!' and the answer was a daughter's kiss."
After spending years abroad, part of the time as Minister to Spain, then as Minister to England, Lowell returned to Elmwood. To a friend who congratulated him on being at home again, he said, "Yes, it is very nice here; but the old house is full of ghosts." His cousin, as quoted by Dr. Hale, says of these closing six years of the poet's life:
"The house was haunted by sad memories, but at least he was once more among his books. The library, which filled the two rooms on the ground floor to the left of the front door, had been constantly growing, and during his stay in Europe he had bought rare works with the intention of leaving them to Harvard College. Here he would sit when sad or unwell and read Calderon, the 'Nightingale in the Study,' whom he always found a solace. Except for occasional attacks of the gout, his life had been singularly free from sickness, but he had been at home only a few months when he was taken ill, and, after the struggle of a strong man to keep up as long as possible, he was forced to go to bed. In a few days his condition became so serious that the physician feared he would not live; but he rallied, and, although too weak to go to England, as he had planned, he appeared to be comparatively well. When taken sick, he had been preparing a new edition of his works, the only full collection that had ever been made, and he had the satisfaction of publishing it soon after his recovery. This was the last literary work he was destined to do, and it rounded off fittingly his career as a man of letters."
He died in August, 1891, when he was seventy-two years old.
Elmwood remains in the possession of the Lowell heirs. The ten acres of the poet's boyhood days have been reduced to two or three, but the house is much the same as when the poet lived in it.
Photo by Ph. B. Wallace, Philadelphia
CRAIGIE HOUSE, CAMBRIDGE, MASS.
VI
THE CRAIGIE HOUSE, CAMBRIDGE,
MASSACHUSETTS
MADE FAMOUS BY GEORGE WASHINGTON AND
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"Somewhat back from the village street
Stands the old-fashioned country seat.
Across its antique portico
Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw;
And from its station in the hall
An ancient timepiece says to all,—
'Forever, never!
Never—forever.'"
The clock of which Longfellow wrote stood on the stair-landing of the old Craigie House, Cambridge, Massachusetts, which he bought in 1843, after having occupied it a number of years. Here he wrote the majority of his poems. Here, one June day, Nathaniel Hawthorne dined with the poet. In the course of conversation, the author of "The House of Seven Gables" told Longfellow the heart-moving story of the Acadian maiden who was separated from her lover by the cruel mandate of the conquerors of Acadia, and here the poem was written that told the story. Here were spent days of gladness with friends who delighted to enter the hospitable door. Here the poet rejoiced in his home with the children of whom he wrote in "The Children's Hour":
"Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour."
And here, one sad day in July, 1861, Mrs. Longfellow was so severely burned that she died the next day. This great sorrow bore rich fruit for those who loved the poet. "Above the grave the strong man sowed his thoughts, and they ripened like the corn in autumn," one of his biographers has said.
The house was named for Andrew Craigie, who became the owner of the property in 1793. He had given valuable service during the Revolutionary War, acting as an "apothecary-general" in the Continental Army. He was a man of wealth, and his home was the popular resort for people of note from all parts of the country. During his later years he lost all his money, and his widow was compelled to rent rooms to Harvard students. In this way Edward Everett became a resident of the house.
The builder of the mansion was John Vassall. In 1760, when he occupied the house, it was surrounded by a park of one hundred and fifty acres. Soon after the beginning of the war he went to Boston, and later he removed to England, for his sympathies were with the Crown. Accordingly, in 1778, the property was declared forfeited to the State.
But the estate really became public property three years before this, when a regiment, under the command of Colonel Glover, pitched its tents in the park. In July, 1775, Washington made the house his headquarters, remaining until April 4, 1776.
During these months the house was a busy place. Officers gathered here both for business and for pleasure. Military conferences and court-martials were held in the large room in the second story which was later used by Longfellow as a study. Dinners and entertainments were frequent; these provided a needed safety valve during the weeks of anxious waiting near the British line. Mrs. Washington was a visitor here, thus giving to her husband the taste of home life which he was unwilling to take during the Revolution by making a visit to his estate at Mt. Vernon.
On one of the early days of the Commander-in-Chief's occupancy of the house, he wrote this entry in his carefully-kept account book:
"July 15, 1775, Paid for cleaning the House which was provided for my Quarters, and which had been occupied by the Marblehead regiment, £2 10s. 9d."
The day before this entry was made General Green wrote to Samuel Ward:
"His Excellency, General Washington, has arrived amongst us, universally admired. Joy was visible in every countenance, and it seemed as if the spirit of conquest breathed through the whole army. I hope I shall be taught, to copy his example, and to prefer the love of liberty, in this time of public danger to all the soft pleasures of domestic life, and support ourselves with manly fortitude amidst all the dangers and hardships that attend a state of war. And I doubt not, under the General's wise direction, we shall establish such excellent order and strictness of discipline as to invite victory to attend him wherever he goes."
A council of war was held in the upstairs room on August 3, 1775. After this council General Sullivan wrote to the New Hampshire Committee of Safety:
"To our great surprise, discovered that we had not powder enough to furnish half a pound a man, exclusive of what the people have in their homes and cartridge boxes. The General was so struck that he did not utter a word for half an hour."
Further hints of the serious straits caused by the lack of ammunition were contained in a letter of Elias Boudinot. He said that at the time there were fourteen miles of line to guard, so that Washington did not dare fire an Evening or Morning Gun. "In this situation one of the Committee of Safety for Massachusetts ... deserted and went over to General Gage, and discovered our poverty to him. The fact was so incredible, that General Gage treated it as a stratagem of war, and the informant as a Spy, or coming with the express purpose of deceiving him & drawing his Army into a Snare, by which means we were saved from having our Quarters beaten up...."
The strange inactivity of the British in the face of the unpreparedness of the Continental troops was remarked in a letter written to Congress on January 4, from Headquarters:
"It is not in the pages of history, perhaps, to furnish a case like ours. To maintain a post within musket shot of the enemy, for six months together, without [powder], and at the same time to disband one army, and recruit another, within that distance of twenty odd British regiments, is more, probably, than was ever attempted."
To-day visitors are free to roam through the rooms that echoed to the tread of Washington and his generals, in which the children played in Longfellow's day, and where the poet wrote so many of his messages that have gone straight to the hearts of millions.
VII