[Peace-discuss] Eighteenth of April

C. G. Estabrook galliher at illinois.edu
Mon Apr 19 12:07:16 CDT 2010


Yes, Longfellow's poem was a conscious act of pro-war propaganda in 1860 
<http://www.danagioia.net/essays/elongfellow.htm>.  It supports not one but two 
wars - armed resistance to the British in 1775 and the armed attack on the 
secessionist states in 1860 - that I would not have supported. But it's still a 
good poem and considering it may actually challenge currently politically potent 
historical myths.

There's a good book about Revere's ride by David Hackett Fischer from about 15 
years ago (and he mentions Prince Estabrook, the first colonial militiaman 
wounded in Revolutionary War).  --CGE

On 4/18/10 4:31 PM, Morton K. Brussel wrote:
> So through the night rode Paul Revere;=
> And so through the night went his cry of alarm
> To every Middlesex village and farm,---
> A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
> A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
> And a word that shall echo for evermore!
> For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
> Through all our history, to the last,
> In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
> The people will waken and listen to hear
> The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
> And the midnight message of Paul Revere.
>
> Longfellow wrote this on April 19, 1860, with forebodings of a Civil War?
> Revere's ride is said to be on April 18, 1775.
>
>
> On Apr 18, 2010, at 1:19 AM, C. G. Estabrook wrote:
>
>> A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
>> A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
>> And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
>> Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;
>> That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
>> The fate of a nation was riding that night;
>> And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
>> Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
>> He has left the village and mounted the steep,
>> And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
>> Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
>> And under the alders that skirt its edge,
>> Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
>> Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides...

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