'Ye posters of the wakeless
air!' quite as extravagant as the Spanish poet, who calls a star a
'burning doubloon of the celestial bank'?"{51} It is a curious fact that
this exuberant poet Chivers claimed a certain sympathy{52} with the
Boston "Dial" and with the transcendental movement, which had a full
supply of its own extravagances; and it is clear that between these two
rhetorical extremes there was needed a voice for simplicity. Undoubtedly
Bryant had an influence in the same direction of simplicity. But Bryant
seemed at first curiously indifferent to Longfellow. "Voices of the
Night" was published in 1839, and there appeared two years after, in
1841, a volume entitled "Selections from the American Poets," edited by
Bryant, in which he gave eleven pages each to Percival and Carlos
Wilcox, nine to Pierpont, eight to himself, and only four to Longfellow.
It is impossible to interpret this proportion as showing that admiration
which Bryant seems to have attributed to himself five years later when
he wrote to him of the illustrated edition of his poems, "They appear to
be more beautiful than on former readings, much as I then admired them.
The exquisite music of your verse dwells more than ever on my ear."{53}
Their personal relation remained always cordial, but never intimate,
Longfellow always recognizing his early obligations to the elder bard
and always keeping by him the first edition of Bryant's poems, published
in 1821. Both poets were descended from a common pilgrim ancestry in
John Alden and Priscilla Mullins, whose story Longfellow has told.{54}

Thus much for first experiences with the world of readers. The young
professor's academical standing and services must be reserved for
another chapter. But he at once found himself, apart from this, a member
of a most agreeable social circle, for which his naturally cheerful
temperament admirably fitted him. It is indeed doubtful if any Harvard
professor of to-day could record in his note-books an equally continuous
course of mild festivities. There are weeks when he never spends an
evening at home. He often describes himself as "gloomy," but the gloom
is never long visible. He constantly walks in and out of Boston, or
drives to Brookline or Jamaica Plain; and whist and little suppers are
never long omitted. Lowell was not as yet promoted to his friendship
because of youth, nor had he and Holmes then been especially brought
together, but Prescott, Sumner, Felton, and