the
contented Dutch tradesman "whose golden face, like the round and ruddy
physiognomy of the sun on the sign of a village tavern, seems to say
'Good entertainment here;'" of Venice, that "it is so visionary and
fairylike that one is almost afraid to set foot on the ground, lest he
should sink the city;" of authorship, that "it is a mystery to many
people that an author should reveal to the public secrets that he
shrinks from telling to his most intimate friends;" that "nothing is
more dangerous to an author than sudden success, because the patience of
genius is one of its most precious attributes;" that "he who carries his
bricks to the building of every one's house will never build one for
himself;"--these were all fresh, racy, and truthful, and would bear
recalling when many a brilliant stroke of wit had sparkled on the
surface and gone under. As a mere critic he grew more amiable and
tolerant as he grew older, as is the wont of literary men; and John
Dwight, then the recognized head of the musical brotherhood of Boston,
always maintained that Longfellow was its worst enemy by giving his warm
indorsement to the latest comer, whatever his disqualifications as to
style or skill.

Holmes said of him in a letter to Motley in 1873:--

"I find a singular charm in the society of Longfellow,--a soft voice, a
sweet and cheerful temper, a receptive rather than aggressive
intelligence, the agreeable flavor of scholarship without any pedantic
ways, and a perceptible soupcon of the humor, not enough to startle or
surprise or keep you under the strain of over-stimulation, which I am
apt to feel with very witty people."

And ten years later, writing to a friend and referring to his verses on
the death of Longfellow, printed in the "Atlantic Monthly," he said:
"But it is all too little, for his life was so exceptionally sweet and
musical that any voice of praise sounds almost like a discord after it."

Professor Rolfe has suggested that he unconsciously describes himself in
"The Golden Legend," where Walter the Minnesinger says of Prince
Henry:--

"His gracious presence upon earth
Was as a fire upon a hearth;
As pleasant songs, at morning sung,
The words that dropped from his sweet tongue
Strengthened our hearts; or, heard at night,
Made all our slumbers soft and light."

He also points out that this is the keynote of the dedication of "The
Seaside and the Fireside," the volume published in 1849.

"As one wh