James Russell Lowell, A Biography; vol. 1/2Scudder, Horace Elisha
General
James Russell Lowell, A Biography; vol. 1/2
Scudder, Horace Elisha
Authors, American -- 19th century -- Biography; Diplomats -- United States -- Biography; Lowell, James Russell, 1819-1891
If we may trust the confession in “The Cathedral” as personal and not
dramatic, Lowell was singularly sensitive in childhood to those subtle
stirrings of nature which give eternity to single moments, and create
impressions which are indelible but never repeated.
“The fleeting relish at sensation’s brim
Had in it the best ferment of the wine.”
A spring morning which witnessed the sudden miracle of regeneration; an
hour of summer, when he sat dappled with sunshine, in a cherry-tree; a
day in autumn, when the falling leaves moved as an accompaniment to his
thought; the creaking of the snow beneath his feet, when the familiar
world was transformed as in a vision to a polar solitude:--
“Instant the candid chambers of my brain
Were painted with these sovran images;
And later visions seem but copies pale
From those unfading frescos of the past,
Which I, young savage, in my age of flint,
Gazed at, and dimly felt a power in me
Parted from Nature by the joy in her
That doubtfully revealed me to myself.”
CHAPTER II
SCHOOL AND COLLEGE
1826-1838
The outer world came early to the notice of Lowell in his garden
enclosure. “I remember,” he writes on the fourth of July, 1876, “how,
fifty years ago to-day, I, perched in a great ox-heart cherry-tree, long
ago turned to mould, saw my father come home with the news of John
Adams’s death.” Two or three journeys also carried him out into the
world in his early boyhood. He remembered going to Portsmouth in his
seventh year, for the visit was impressed on his memory by the startling
effect produced by a skeleton which he confronted when he opened a long
red chest in Dr. Brackett’s house; and it was the next year that his
father took him to Washington and carried him out to Alexandria, where
he spent some days with the Carroll family, who were connections on his
mother’s side, and whence he made an excursion to Mount Vernon. It all
came back to him fifty-nine years later when he took his grandson to the
same shrine; he went straight to the key of the Bastile and to the
honey-locusts in the garden.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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