Text: Annie Russell Marble, “Willis and Poe: A Retrospect,” The Critic (New York, NY), vol. XLVIII, January 1906, pp. 24-26

[page 24:]

FENIMORE COOPER said through one of his characters, “To an American. always means just eighteen months.” Happily we have outgrown some of the braggart traits which called forth such extreme sarcasm but do we not seem still precocious occasionally, anxious to appear older than we are in history and letters? The day of the American literary centenary is at hand and with patriotic zeal the celebrations have begun. That an author is read, or even is popular, one hundred years after his birth is scarcely sufficient ground, however, for proclaiming him among the immortals of literature. Reading some of the lavish tributes heaped upon Emerson and Hawthorne one felt assured that the men, reserved and sincere, would have deplored such extravagance. On the other hand, there is a feeling of satisfaction at the coming of these centenaries, if they are observed with taste and discrimination. Such is the fitting time to disprove false statements and uproot prejudices, to collect bits of personalia from the surviving family and few acquaintances of the author, or to record in an effective form a special message which the author has brought to some individual reader. It is the occasion for registering the present rank of the author in comparison with earlier popularity or neglect; it is not the occasion for glowing prophecies.

Perhaps it is fortunate, as a means of emphasizing the true significance of the centenary, that the present month in America recalls the birth of a minor almost forgotten, writer. Following the revival of interest in seer and in romancer, and preceding the acclaims which will soon greet the three favorite New England poets, is this centennial year of Willis, once the most successful of earlier American writers, if success [column 2:] be gauged by popularity and financial returns. With new force recurs the truism, “Time! the corrector where our judgments err.” Fifty years ago Willis ranked, abroad as well as in America, with Irving and Longfellow in general favor, surpassing Bryant, Hawthorne, and Poe. He outlived his own prestige, and his star of fame, once so conspicuous, has lost its radiance until there is not even a glimmer of revival. Justice seems now to be done his memory by recalling such phrases of characterization as “the graceful trifler,” “the prince of paragraphists,” or

The topmost bright bubble on the Wave of the Town.

Occasionally some reader of authority rescues a few of his stanzas from the mass of buried verses and prose ephemera. Colonel Higginson has recently instanced “the sweet, dying cadences” of “The Belfry Pigeon.” With kindly judgment, tinctured by boyhood's memories, he finds evidence “to atone for all of Willis’ coxcombry and to show that, in spite of the English applauses that spoiled him, he was a poet at heart,” in the melodious lines.

Whatever tale in the bell is heard,

He broods on his folded feet unstirr’d,

Or, rising half in his rounded nest.

He takes the time to smooth his breast,

Then drops again with filmèd eyes.

And sleeps as the last vibration dies.

Poe's relation to Willis was that of a just, intuitive critic and a warm, often dependent, friend. Spurning the bulk of his writings that gained the ear of the social world, Poe delighted in those simple stanzas by Willis, beginning, “The shadows lay along Broadway. [page 25:] In this pictorial study of two women, attended by the “Unseen Spirits” of hauteur and repentance, Poe admired the “grace, dignity, and pathos,” and asserted that here was “a true imagination,” a verdict accepted by latter-day critics. Poe was really our first critic with intuition to pierce through the film of popularity and with courage to affirm that Longfellow was overrated as a poet of originality, that the obscure Hawthorne was “a man of extraordinary genius,” and that Willis's’ fame was largely due to his temperament, with its versatility and energy, and to the effective “display of his wares.” In spite of such detraction he regarded Willis as a sincere friend, with far-reaching, helpful influence.

With frank acknowledgment that Willis's own work was of only passing value, it may be worth while to record that he had qualities of mind and heart which, joined to his potential popularity, enabled him to do many a service for struggling authors of his day, then almost unheeded but now among the few American writers who are candidates for lasting fame. Through his Athenæum sketches and his editorial columns in the Mirror and the Home Journal, he introduced, or, in turn, defended from unjust attacks, Bryant, Halleck, Cooper, Hawthorne, Poe, and Longfellow. His columns were kindly and encouraging in tone, even if they sometimes lacked keenness, in those days when newspaper notices generally savored of hyperbole or invective. In Poe's letters one may find many iterations of his indebtedness to Willis. Writing Griswold he said, “Willis, whose good opinion I value highly, and of whose good word I have a right to be proud, has done me the honor to speak very pointedly in praise of ‘The Raven.’ ‘ Again, with more than formal or politic thanks, he wrote Willis, “I have not forgotten how ‘a good word in season’ from you made ‘The Raven’ and made ‘Ulalume.’ “ Both these poems, which now rank high on the list of native poetry, were first printed anonymously in inferior journals with meagre circulation and might have been buried there, had not Willis [column 2:] reprinted them in his popular columns with notes of sure approval and adroit inquiry as to the author, thus challenging public curiosity. His comment on “The Raven” as “the most effective single example of fugitive poetry ever published in this country,” and his more effusive praise of the phonetic merit of “Ulalume” were almost the first pronounced words of recognition of Poe as poet.

Willis did more than stand sponsor for the first-fruits of genius of his less fortunate friend. He gave him employment, with strong support and opportunity, and came to his defence in print on two noteworthy occasions. When the poverty of the Poe family was unfolded to the public by a kind but indiscreet woman, Willis not only sent inquiries of friendship and practical aid, but, yet more, he wrote a judicious statement of the case in his Home Journal, — “kind and manly comments,” said Poe in a letter of. thanks. Through the intimacy established while Poe was assisting Willis as editor of the New Mirror in 1844 and 1845, the latter was able to answer with force and dignity some of Griswold's insinuations in his famous obituary of Poe in the Tribune. Against the charge of erratic and violent temper Willis testified:

With the highest admiration for his genius, and a willingness to let it atone for more than ordinary irregularity, we were led to expect, by common report, a very capricious attention to his duties, and occasionally a scene of violence and difficulty. Time went on, however, and he was invariably punctual and industrious — a patient, industrious, and most gentlemanly person, commanding the utmost respect and good feeling by his unvarying deportment and ability.

Willis was the first commentator to explain the fearful effects of a few grains of alcohol on Poe's brain, and to appeal for a kindlier judgment for the man in his sanity and for the poet gifted far beyond the common knowledge.

Without recalling in detail other services to American authors of half a century ago, amid the words of [page 26:] disparagement which are his due and the yet more scathing censure of silence, one may pause for a word of appreciation of Willis, the friend, and [column 2:] may find reason for Professor Richardson's affirmation that Willis “was a power not to be ignored in the development of letters in New York,”