"Under the Old Elm," read at Cambridge on the hundredth anniversary of Washington's taking command of the American army, eloquently commemorates the character and achievements of the "Father of his Country :

"Out of that scabbard sprang, as from its womb,
Nebulous at first but hardening to a star,
Through mutual share of sunburst and of gloom,
The common faith that made us what we are."

"The Cathedral" is Lowell's longest poem. Somewhat uneven in its merits, it contains many noble passages. It might be made to illustrate nearly every prominent point in the poet's character. As compared with his earlier writings, it reveals the presence of a slightly conservative tendency. The leading incidents of the poem are connected with a visit to the cathedral of Chartres. He was filled with admiration at the consecrated spirit of a former age that sought expression in such a miracle of stone:

"I gazed abashed,

Child of an age that lectures, not creates,
Plastering our swallow-nests on the awful Past,
And twittering round the work of larger men,
As we had builded what we but deface."

His deep religious nature is evident throughout the poem, though his creed is larger than that of his Puritan ancestors. Softened by the touch of an all-embracing sympathy and charity, he finds that

"God is in all that liberates and lifts,

In all that humbles, sweetens, and consoles."

In "The Cathedral" we have a striking instance of the wilful caprice with which his muse sometimes startles us. At

the hotel in Chartres he met two Englishmen who mistook him for a Frenchman.

"My beard translated me to hostile French;

So they, desiring guidance in the town,
Half condescended to my baser sphere,

And, clubbing in one mess their lack of phrase,
Set their best man to grapple with the Gaul.
'Esker vous ate a nabitang?' he asked:

'I never ate one; are they good?' asked I;

Whereat they stared, then laughed, and we were friends."

Considered in the most favorable light, the poet's wit on this occasion can hardly be said to display particular brilliancy; and to introduce the incident into a grave and elevated poem is a bit of freakishness that makes "the judicious grieve."

Of Lowell's prose writings, there is not space to speak in detail. The three volumes entitled "My Study Windows" and "Among My Books" (two volumes) are made up of essays. "My Study Windows" is of greatest general interest. It opens with three delightful papers entitled "My Garden Acquaintance," "A Good Word for Winter," and "On a Certain Condescension in Foreigners." In these the keen wit, kindly humor, and shrewd observation of Lowell appear at their best. Of his various garden acquaintance, to give a single quotation, he says: "If they will not come near enough to me (as most of them will), I bring them close with an operaglass, a much better weapon than a gun. I would not, if I could, convert them from their pretty pagan ways. The only one I sometimes have savage doubts about is the red squirrel. I think he oölogizes. I know he eats cherries (we counted five of them at one time in a single tree, the stones pattering down like the sparse hail that preludes a storm), and that he gnaws off the small ends of pears to get at the seeds. He steals the corn from under the noses of my poultry. But what would you have? He will come down upon the limb of the tree I

-

am lying under till he is within a yard of me. He and his mate will scurry up and down the great black walnut for my diversion, chattering like monkeys. Can I sign his deathwarrant who has tolerated me about his grounds so long? Not I. Let them steal, and welcome. I am sure I should, had I had the same bringing up and the same temptation. As for the birds, I do not believe there is one of them but does more good than harm; and of how many featherless bipeds can this be said?"

Lowell occupies a foremost place among American critics. For the critic's office he was eminently qualified, both by natural gifts and broad scholarship. The two volumes of "Among My Books" are devoted chiefly to elaborate studies of "Dryden," "Shakespeare Once More," "Dante," " Spenser," "Wordsworth," "Milton," and "Keats." In each case a wide range of reading is made to contribute its treasures. The essays,

supplied with numerous foot-notes, are learned to a degree that is almost oppressive. Lowell displays a deep insight and great soundness of judgment. His style is rich in allusion. At times it is epigrammatic; and again it is not unlike his own description of Milton's style. "Milton's manner," he says, "is very grand. It is slow, it is stately, moving as in triumphal procession, with music, with historic banners, with spoils from every time and region; and captive epithets, like huge Sicambrians, thrust their broad shoulders between us and the pomp they decorate." Now and then his humor lights up a sentence or paragraph in the most unexpected way.

As a few other of our literary men, Lowell was appointed to represent this country abroad. His diplomatic career detracts nothing from his reputation. He was appointed minister to Spain in 1877, and three years later minister to England. Without any occasion to display great diplomatic gifts, he filled his post faithfully, and fostered international good feeling. In the social and literary circles of England his culture and genius gained for him a proud distinction.

Lowell was frequently called on for addresses. Among his

works is a volume entitled "Democracy and Other Addresses." He was not an orator so much as a refined and scholarly speaker. He spoke in an earnest, conversational tone, depending upon the weight of his utterance to secure the attention and interest of his hearers. He made no use of gesture. He did not soar to the heights of impassioned utterance, of which we must believe him to have been capable. He did not move a great popular assembly, but to the scholarly and cultivated he was a delightful speaker.

Lowell lived beyond the allotted age of three score and ten. His latter years were sweetened by the tribute of honor and love which a great people united in paying him. He died Aug. 12, 1891, recognized at home and abroad as a man of high gifts and noble character. He is, perhaps, our best representative man of letters. An English critic has fairly expressed the feeling abroad: "No poetic note higher or deeper than his, no aspirations more firmly touched towards lofty issues, no voice more powerful for truth and freedom, have hitherto come to us from across the Atlantic."