The South whose gaze is cast
No more upon the past,
But whose bright eyes the skies of promise sweep,
Whose feet in paths of progress swiftly leap;
And whose fresh thoughts, like cheerful rivers, run
Through odorous ways to meet the morning sun!
Chapter XI. Characteristics and Ideas
Perhaps the best single description of Lanier is that by his friend H. Clay Wysham: "His eye, of bluish gray, was more spiritual than dreamy — except when he was suddenly aroused, and then it assumed a hawk-like fierceness. The transparent delicacy of his skin and complexion pleased the eye, and his fine-textured hair, which was soft and almost straight and of a light-brown color, was combed behind the ear in Southern style. His long beard, which was wavy and pointed, had even at an early age begun to show signs of turning gray. His nose was aquiline, his bearing was distinguished, and his manners were stamped with a high breeding that befitted the `Cavalier' lineage. His hands were delicate and white, by no means thin, and the fingers tapering. His gestures were not many, but swift, graceful, and expressive; the tone of his voice was low; his figure was willowy and lithe; and in stature he seemed tall, but in reality he was a little below six feet — withal there was a native knightly grace which marked his every movement."* If to this be added the words of Dr. Gilman as to the impression he produced on people, the picture may be complete: "The appearance of Lanier was striking. There was nothing eccentric or odd about him, but his words, manners, ways of speech, were distinguished. I have heard a lady say that if he took his place in a crowded horse-car, an exhilarating atmosphere seemed to be introduced by his breezy ways."**
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* `Independent', November 18, 1897.
** `South Atlantic Quarterly', April, 1905.
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He was mindful of the conventionalities of life. He had nothing of the Bohemian in his looks, his manners, or his temperament. Poor though he was, he was scrupulous with regard to dress. He was a hard worker, but when his health permitted, he was thoroughly mindful of duties that devolved upon him as a member of society. He wrote to Charlotte Cushman: "For I am surely going to find you, at one place or t' other, — provided heaven shall send me so much fortune in the selling of a poem or two as will make the price of a new dress coat. Alas, with what unspeakable tender care I would have brushed this present garment of mine in days gone by, if I had dreamed that the time would come when so great a thing as a visit to YOU might hang upon the little length of its nap! Behold, it is not only in man's breast that pathos lies, and the very coat lapel that covers it may be a tragedy." Professor Gildersleeve gives a characteristic incident: "I remember he came to a dinner given in his honor, fresh from a lecture at the Peabody, in a morning suit and with chalk on his fingers. Came thus, not because he was unmindful of conventionalities. He was as mindful of them as Browning, — came thus because he had to come thus. There was no time to dress. The poor chalk-fingered poet was miserable the whole evening, hardly roused himself when the talk fell on Blake, and when we took a walk together the next day he made his moan to me about it. A seraph with chalk on his fingers. Somehow, that little incident seems to me an epitome of his life, though I have mentioned it only to show how busy he was."*
— * Letter to the author. —
He was a welcome guest in many homes. "He had the most gentle, refined, sweet, lovely manners, I think I may say, of any man I ever met," says Charles Heber Clarke. A letter from the daughter of the late John Foster Kirk, former editor of "Lippincott's Magazine", gives an impression of Lanier in the homes of his friends: —
"My first sight of Lanier was when he came into the room with my father at dusk one evening (they had been walking through the Wissahickon woods and came back to tea), and his presence seemed something beautiful in the room, even more from his manner than from his appearance, gracious and fine as that was. He always seemed to me to stand for chivalry as well as poetry, and his goodness was something you felt at once and never forgot. He was at our house one day with his flute. He and my father were going to Mr. Robert P. Morton's, in Germantown, to play together. We happened to speak of the fact that my sister, then a little girl, though absolutely without ear for music, had a curious delight in listening to it. Mr. Lanier said he would like to play to her; we called her in from the yard where she was playing, and he played some of his own music, explaining to her first what he thought of when he wrote it, describing to her the brook in its course, and other things in nature. He could easily have found a more appreciative listener, but not a happier one.
"I remember his eagerness about all forms of knowledge and expression. We went with him to the Centennial, where we were full of excitement about pictures, though none of us knew much about them. I remember the pleasure Mr. Lanier had in the sense of color and splendor given him by the big Hans Makart (`Caterina Cornaro') and discussions of that and the English and Spanish pictures. Intellectually he seemed to me not so much to have arrived as to be on the way, — with a beautiful fervor and eagerness about things, as if he had never had all that he longed for in books and study and thought."*
— * Letter to the author. —