aper on "Longfellow and his Art," the young poet was
really preparing himself in Europe for his literary work as well as for
his professional work, and half consciously. This is singularly
confirmed by his lifelong friend, Professor George W. Greene, who, in
dedicating his "The Life of Nathanael Greene" to his friend, thus
recalls an evening spent together at Naples in 1828:--

"We wanted," he says, "to be alone, and yet to feel that there was life
all around us. We went up to the flat roof of the house where, as we
walked, we could look down into the crowded street, and out upon the
wonderful bay, and across the bay to Ischia and Capri and Sorrento, and
over the house-tops and villas and vineyards to Vesuvius. The ominous
pillar of smoke hung suspended above the fatal mountain, reminding us of
Pliny, its first and noblest victim. A golden vapor crowned the bold
promontory of Sorrento, and we thought of Tasso. Capri was calmly
sleeping, like a sea-bird upon the waters; and we seemed to hear the
voice of Tacitus from across the gulf of eighteen centuries, telling us
that the historian's pen is still powerful to absolve or to condemn long
after the imperial sceptre has fallen from the withered hand. There,
too, lay the native island of him whose daring mind conceived the
fearful vengeance of the Sicilian Vespers. We did not yet know
Niccolini; but his grand verses had already begun their work of
regeneration in the Italian heart. Virgil's tomb was not far off. The
spot consecrated by Sannazaro's ashes was near us. And over all, with a
thrill like that of solemn music, fell the splendor of the Italian
sunset."{13}

As an illustration of this obvious fact that Longfellow, during this
first European visit, while nominally training himself for purely
educational work, was fitting himself also for a literary career, we
find from his letter to his father, May 15, 1829, that while hearing
lectures in German and studying faithfully that language, he was, as he
says, "writing a book, a kind of Sketch-Book of scenes in France, Spain,
and Italy." We shall presently encounter this book under the name of
"Outre-Mer." He connects his two aims by saying in the same letter, "One
must write and write correctly, in order to teach." Again he adds, "The
further I advance, the more I see to be done. The more, too, I am
persuaded of the charlatanism of literary men. For the rest, my fervent
wish is to return home." His brother tells us that a