campanis

And now for a Christmas poem:

...but first, some history.

The Civil War started in 1861. Hopefully many of you are aware of this already. What you may not be aware of, though is this: that was the same year that Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's wife, Fanny died.  It was July and the Massachusetts air was stifling and stale. In hope of relief, every house had its windows open to invite whatever breeze there may be.  Mrs. Longfellow had just finished trimming her girls' hair in an effort to cool them, and had decided to keep a lock or two.  She lit a candle to melt some sealing wax, just as the first breeze of the day entered the window she stood next to.  Unfortunately this drought brought none of the long-awaited relief Fanny was desperate for, as it led the  light summer dress she was wearing into the flame of her candle.  She was soon engulfed in flames, and in an effort to protect her young girls nearby, Fanny fled to her husband in the next room.  There, Henry tried to smother the flames with a throw rug that proved too small to be effective.  In desperation, he flung himself at her, using his arms and body to extinguish the fire.  Fanny died the next day, suffering severely from her burns. Ill from grief, Henry was unable to attend her funeral, also suffering from burns on his face, arms, and hands.

Longfellow's characteristic beard is a result of his
difficulty shaving after sustaining burns on his face. 

That first Christmas following Fanny's death, Longfellow wrote:
"How inexpressibly sad are all holidays."

The ensuing year offered little comfort, and the Christmas of 1862 was marked in Longfellow's journal with:
"'A merry Christmas', say the children, but that is no more for me." 

The year of 1863 was a difficult one on the nation as the Civil War continued without promise of ending, and it brought further tragedy to the Longfellow household, as Henry received news that his eldest son Charles, a Lieutenant in the Union Army, had been severely wounded by a bullet taken under the shoulder blade and damaging the spine. In his journal that year, Longfellow silently offered no insight to the weight of his grief.

The Christmas of 1864, Longfellow penned the following:

I heard the bells on Christmas Day

Their old, familiar carols play,

And mild and sweet 

The words repeat

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,

The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along

The unbroken song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till ringing, singing on its way,

The world revolved from night to day,

A voice, a chime,

A chant sublime

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth

The cannon thundered in the South,

And with the sound

The carols drowned

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent

The hearth-stones of a continent,

And made forlorn

The households born

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;

"There is no peace on earth," I said;

"For hate is strong,

And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The Wrong shall fail,

The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

You will likely recognize this as a popular Christmas carol.  Indeed, it is one of my favorite Christmas hymns. It was set to music in 1872 and Longfellow's healing resolution has been resounded ever since.

Happy Christmas.