would be aroused by the potent charms of Berkshire scenery. His "Star Papers," though "top-shelved" now, contain more than one fine record of these glowing impressions.
Longfellow's connection with Berkshire was one of marriage. In May, 1843, while professor at Harvard and
H. H. Ballard.
wrapped up in his intellectual pursuits, he writes to a friend: "Of late my heart has quite turned my head out of doors." The disturbing element was Miss Frances Appleton, daughter of Nathan Appleton, of Boston, a woman of rare culture, whose face "at times seemed to make the very air brighter with its smiles." Her ancestral home was in Pittsfield. And it was on their wedding journey thither, while visiting the Springfield armory, that the idea, suggested by her, of likening the rows of burnished arms to the pipes of a mighty organ upon which the death-angel played awful symphonies, was afterwards embodied in his "Arsenal at Springfield." A little way down the broad, elm-shaded street leading east from Pittsfield Park, there stands a square, old-fashioned dwelling, once the country seat of Nathan Appleton. This was the bridal couple's destination. Here, on the landing of the broad stairs, away at the end of the hall, stood the ancient timepiece even now ticking in our memories,—
"Forever, never,
Never, forever."
Seldom was there a happier marriage. For the next few years the poet's life flowed on like a peaceful river, and in these years his genius found the moments of its happiest inspiration. "The Belfry at Bruges," "Evangeline," and numerous shorter poems date from this period. Meanwhile, in summer, it was his delight to retire to the "old-fashioned country seat," where he gave himself up to gathering pond-lilies, watching the waterwheel in the brook, romping with the children in the new-mown hay, taking long drives and walks, in short, doing almost anything save what he had come for to this "land of drowsy-head." His diary in August, 1848, contains an interesting confession: "I find it quite impossible to write in the country. The influences are soothing and slumberous. In coming here I hoped to work successfully on 'Kavanagh,' and as yet I have written scarcely a page." Once, on a drive to Stockbridge, he was told that everything sang of Sedgwick in that region. "The very grasshoppers in the fields chirp, 'Sedgwick! Sedgwick!" the imaginative speaker affirmed.
Hither came Charles Sumner once, to visit his brother member of "The Five of Clubs." In his college days he had tramped over Hoosac Mountain, under which the great tunnel now runs, and was charmed with the magnificent view, as Henry Clay had been a few years earlier. Now sick almost unto death, he came again, writing Longfellow, "I am weak as a girl, but only lack strength." But the Berkshire breezes wonderfully did their part, as they had often done before, and soon he was on horse and off to see Miss Sedgwick, then scraping an acquaintance with Fanny Kemble who promised to ride with him and introduce him to the beautiful lanes and wild paths of the mountains.
Sumner was present at Longfellow's wedding, and accompanied the happy
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