The Children's Longfellow Told in Prose — Context and Discussion

Hayman's Descriptive Expansions

Hayman frequently amplifies Longfellow's settings with sensory details not present in the verse. In 'Lady Wentworth,' she describes the governor's mansion: 'Within, it was magnificent to behold with its oak floors and carved chimney-pieces. All through the winter immense fires of logs blazed cheerily on the open hearths, while portraits of dead and gone Wentworths in heavy gilt frames looked placidly down from the tapestry-covered walls.' This passage adds a layer of domestic opulence that Longfellow's poem only suggests. Similarly, in 'Elizabeth,' the Quaker maiden remarks on the American landscape: 'In the old country there is a long twilight, but here in the forest is hardly a moment between daylight and lamplight.' Hayman uses such contrasts to highlight the strangeness of the New World to European settlers, a theme she reinforces through dialogue and descriptive asides.

Dialogue as Characterization

Hayman often invents or expands dialogue to reveal character, especially in moments of social tension. In 'Lady Wentworth,' the governor's wedding command is rendered through direct speech: 'This is my birthday; it shall also be my wedding-day, and you shall marry me.' When the rector hesitates, the governor insists, 'If you hesitate to do as I ask you, then, as chief magistrate, I command you.' This exchange, drawn from Longfellow's original, is given added weight by Hayman's framing—she notes the rector's 'loud, clear tones' and the bride's 'blushing and confused' demeanor. In 'Elizabeth,' the housemaid Hannah's complaint about the Delaware River—'Here we see nothing but pine-trees already flecked with snow'—contrasts with Elizabeth's appreciation of winter's 'spotless mantle of snow,' establishing a tension between homesickness and wonder that runs through several tales.

Structural Choices: Framing and Selection

Hayman organizes her collection by grouping poems under thematic or structural headings. Five stories are taken from Longfellow's 'Tales of a Wayside Inn,' a series 'whose plan was evidently suggested by the Canterbury Tales,' as she notes in the introduction. This framing invites readers to see the tales as linked narratives, though Hayman does not preserve the inn's frame story. She also selects poems that feature strong, often romantic plots—'The Courtship of Miles Standish,' 'Evangeline,' 'The Falcon of Ser Federigo'—and omits shorter lyrics. The result is a collection weighted toward adventure and romance, with each story prefaced by a brief historical or legendary note. For instance, she explains that Hiawatha 'was known among the different tribes under various names' and was 'a person of miraculous birth,' a detail that orients young readers without overwhelming them.

Voice and Register: Balancing Fidelity and Accessibility

Hayman's prose style oscillates between formal exposition and colloquial storytelling. In 'The Building of the Ship,' she begins with a historical overview: 'It was in bygone days, long before the use of steam was even thought about; trains were unknown, and when people wished to get from one part of the country to another they were obliged to make the journey on horseback or in coaches.' This explanatory tone gives way to more vivid passages, as when she describes a sailing ship's 'charm' that 'no steamer with all its complicated machinery can replace.' She occasionally retains Longfellow's own phrasing, such as the line about Martha Hilton: 'A maid of all work, whether coarse or fine, / A servant who made service seem divine.' These quoted fragments, never more than eight words, serve as touchstones for the original verse while allowing Hayman's prose to carry the narrative.

Readers approaching this edition should note that Hayman's adaptations are not abridgments but full prose retellings, each with its own descriptive texture and explanatory asides. The collection offers a consistent entry point into Longfellow's narrative world, though the prose inevitably flattens the metrical and rhythmic effects of the verse. Comparing Hayman's versions with the original poems can illuminate how she chooses to expand or compress scenes, and which details she considers essential for a young audience. The book is best read as a companion to Longfellow, not a substitute.

I remember sitting with my grandmother, her finger tracing Longfellow’s lines as she turned them into stories for me. The Children’s Longfellow brought that warmth back, the way prose can hold a poem’s pulse without its meter. It reminded me of slipping through The Poetical Works of Henry Kirk White : With a Memoir by Sir Harris Nicolas — A Closer Reading, that same quiet ache of discovering a voice made gentler by retelling. Both felt like finding old letters, slightly faded but still breathing.