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Kavanagh, a Tale
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This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.
As a reproduction of a historical artifact, this work may contain missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.
186 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1849
4 people are currently reading
95 people want to read
About the author
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
2,910 books735 followersExtremely popular works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, American poet, in the United States in his lifetime, include
The Song of Hiawatha
in 1855 and a translation from 1865 to 1867 of
Divine Comedy
of Dante Alighieri.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow educated. His originally wrote the "Paul Revere's Ride" and "Evangeline." From New England, he first completed work of the fireside.
Bowdoin College graduated Longefellow, who served as a professor, afterward studied in Europe, and later moved at Harvard. After a miscarriage, Mary Potter Longfellow, his first wife, died in 1835. He first collected Voices of the Night (1839) and Ballads and Other Poems (1841).
From teaching, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow retired in 1854 to focus on his writing in the headquarters of of George Washington in Cambridge, Massachusetts, during the Revolutionary War for the remainder.
Dress of Frances Appleton Longfellow, his second wife, caught fire; she then sustained burns and afterward died in 1861. After her death, Longfellow had difficulty writing and focused on from foreign languages.
Longfellow wrote musicality of many known lyrics and often presented stories of mythology and legend. He succeeded most overseas of his day. He imitated European styles and wrote too sentimentally for critics.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow educated. His originally wrote the "Paul Revere's Ride" and "Evangeline." From New England, he first completed work of the fireside.
Bowdoin College graduated Longefellow, who served as a professor, afterward studied in Europe, and later moved at Harvard. After a miscarriage, Mary Potter Longfellow, his first wife, died in 1835. He first collected Voices of the Night (1839) and Ballads and Other Poems (1841).
From teaching, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow retired in 1854 to focus on his writing in the headquarters of of George Washington in Cambridge, Massachusetts, during the Revolutionary War for the remainder.
Dress of Frances Appleton Longfellow, his second wife, caught fire; she then sustained burns and afterward died in 1861. After her death, Longfellow had difficulty writing and focused on from foreign languages.
Longfellow wrote musicality of many known lyrics and often presented stories of mythology and legend. He succeeded most overseas of his day. He imitated European styles and wrote too sentimentally for critics.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
May 23, 2015
If you want to know what this fairly obscure Longfellow novel is about, but don't want to go to all the trouble of reading it, here's a summary:
Once upon a time, two teenaged girls were friends. They were maybe sort of kind of in love with each other, but then a hot guy moved to town and they learned what real love is. (Specifically, it's heterosexual. Did I mention this novel was written in 1847?) Of course only one of the girls could marry him, what with the bigamy laws and him being a clergyman and all; so the other girl considerately pined away and died to clear the playing field for the happy couple, who spent their honeymoon in Italy doing missionary work and apparently nothing else, since they stayed there three years and came home without any babies, if you get my drift.
Did I miss anything? I don't think I missed anything.
Okay, fer realz: I read this novel because it's mentioned in a book about Emily Dickinson I'm reading as research for a YA novel I'm writing. Kavanagh was important to Dickinson, in part because she read it against her father's wishes. "He buys me many books," Dickinson wrote facetiously, "but begs me not to read them, because he fears they joggle the mind."
"He did not wish his children, when little, to read anything but the Bible," her friend, Thomas Wentworth Higginson, explained more seriously in a loving tribute to Dickinson's life and work; "and when, one day, her brother brought her home Longfellow's Kavanagh, he put it secretly under the pianoforte cover, made signs to her, and they both afterwards read it."
With a backstory like that, how could I resist reading it myself? Especially since it's über short?
Another reason I had to check Kavanagh out is that it's described as depicting "what is probably the first lesbian relationship in American fiction."
And I'm supposed to not read this how, exactly?
I have to say that if I hadn't been told to watch out for a lesbian romance, I would have skated right by it. Here's the hottitude in full:
"I have just been writing to you," said Alice; "I wanted so much to see you this morning!"
"Why this morning in particular? Has anything happened?"
"Nothing, only I had such a longing to see you!"
And, seating herself in a low chair by Cecilia's side, she laid her head upon the shoulder of her friend, who, taking one of her pale, thin hands in both her own, silently kissed her forehead again and again.
... "I am so glad to see you, Cecilia!" she continued. "You are so beautiful! I love so much to sit and look at you! Ah, how I wish Heaven had made me as tall, and strong, and beautiful as you are!"
"You little flatterer! What an affectionate, lover-like friend you are! What have you been doing all the morning?"
"Looking out of the window, thinking of you, and writing you this letter, to beg you to come and see me."
"And I have been buying a carrier-pigeon, to fly between us, and carry all our letters."
"That will be delightful."
"He is to be sent home to-day; and after he gets accustomed to my room, I shall send him here, to get acquainted with yours; — a Iachimo in my Imogen's bed-chamber, to spy out its secrets."
That's it, ladies and gents. Do you need a moment alone? I think I do. TO TAKE A NAP.
Seriously, the hottest part of that alleged lesbian romance scene is the reference to Iachimo and Imogen. I don't have time to spell it all out here (which is a nice way of saying I'm too lazy); but it's from a rather creepy scene in Shakespeare's Cymbeline. Iachimo is a slimy jerk who sneaks into the sleeping Imogen's bedroom. While he's there, he steals some of her jewelry and scopes out her nekkid bosom.
Kind of a weird reference for an innocent nineteenth-century village girl to make, right?
Other than the nonexistent girl-on-girl action, this novel is a perfectly pleasant read – a sweet story about various residents of a tiny New England village, including a rather pathetic schoolteacher who's always talking about that great novel he's going to write someday. He's so busy talking about writing, he never actually sits down and does any.
Some things never change.
Anyway. As you can see from my updates and the quotable quotes I fed into the Goodreads' database, Kavanagh is often quite funny and occasionally brilliant. But it's not something you need to rush out and read unless you're obsessed with Longfellow, and no offense but that's kind of weird. Or you could read it if you're obsessed with Dickinson and feel the need to read anything she read. Which is also quite weird; but in my own defense, it's my main character who's obsessed with Dickinson. I'm just trying to get into her head. My character's, I mean.
I told my son about this and he said, "Oh, yeah – that's like what some actors do, right? What's it called?"
"You mean method acting?"
"Exactly! You're method-writing!"
See? It makes sense when he says it.
Once upon a time, two teenaged girls were friends. They were maybe sort of kind of in love with each other, but then a hot guy moved to town and they learned what real love is. (Specifically, it's heterosexual. Did I mention this novel was written in 1847?) Of course only one of the girls could marry him, what with the bigamy laws and him being a clergyman and all; so the other girl considerately pined away and died to clear the playing field for the happy couple, who spent their honeymoon in Italy doing missionary work and apparently nothing else, since they stayed there three years and came home without any babies, if you get my drift.
Did I miss anything? I don't think I missed anything.
Okay, fer realz: I read this novel because it's mentioned in a book about Emily Dickinson I'm reading as research for a YA novel I'm writing. Kavanagh was important to Dickinson, in part because she read it against her father's wishes. "He buys me many books," Dickinson wrote facetiously, "but begs me not to read them, because he fears they joggle the mind."
"He did not wish his children, when little, to read anything but the Bible," her friend, Thomas Wentworth Higginson, explained more seriously in a loving tribute to Dickinson's life and work; "and when, one day, her brother brought her home Longfellow's Kavanagh, he put it secretly under the pianoforte cover, made signs to her, and they both afterwards read it."
With a backstory like that, how could I resist reading it myself? Especially since it's über short?
Another reason I had to check Kavanagh out is that it's described as depicting "what is probably the first lesbian relationship in American fiction."
And I'm supposed to not read this how, exactly?
I have to say that if I hadn't been told to watch out for a lesbian romance, I would have skated right by it. Here's the hottitude in full:
"I have just been writing to you," said Alice; "I wanted so much to see you this morning!"
"Why this morning in particular? Has anything happened?"
"Nothing, only I had such a longing to see you!"
And, seating herself in a low chair by Cecilia's side, she laid her head upon the shoulder of her friend, who, taking one of her pale, thin hands in both her own, silently kissed her forehead again and again.
... "I am so glad to see you, Cecilia!" she continued. "You are so beautiful! I love so much to sit and look at you! Ah, how I wish Heaven had made me as tall, and strong, and beautiful as you are!"
"You little flatterer! What an affectionate, lover-like friend you are! What have you been doing all the morning?"
"Looking out of the window, thinking of you, and writing you this letter, to beg you to come and see me."
"And I have been buying a carrier-pigeon, to fly between us, and carry all our letters."
"That will be delightful."
"He is to be sent home to-day; and after he gets accustomed to my room, I shall send him here, to get acquainted with yours; — a Iachimo in my Imogen's bed-chamber, to spy out its secrets."
That's it, ladies and gents. Do you need a moment alone? I think I do. TO TAKE A NAP.
Seriously, the hottest part of that alleged lesbian romance scene is the reference to Iachimo and Imogen. I don't have time to spell it all out here (which is a nice way of saying I'm too lazy); but it's from a rather creepy scene in Shakespeare's Cymbeline. Iachimo is a slimy jerk who sneaks into the sleeping Imogen's bedroom. While he's there, he steals some of her jewelry and scopes out her nekkid bosom.
Kind of a weird reference for an innocent nineteenth-century village girl to make, right?
Other than the nonexistent girl-on-girl action, this novel is a perfectly pleasant read – a sweet story about various residents of a tiny New England village, including a rather pathetic schoolteacher who's always talking about that great novel he's going to write someday. He's so busy talking about writing, he never actually sits down and does any.
Some things never change.
Anyway. As you can see from my updates and the quotable quotes I fed into the Goodreads' database, Kavanagh is often quite funny and occasionally brilliant. But it's not something you need to rush out and read unless you're obsessed with Longfellow, and no offense but that's kind of weird. Or you could read it if you're obsessed with Dickinson and feel the need to read anything she read. Which is also quite weird; but in my own defense, it's my main character who's obsessed with Dickinson. I'm just trying to get into her head. My character's, I mean.
I told my son about this and he said, "Oh, yeah – that's like what some actors do, right? What's it called?"
"You mean method acting?"
"Exactly! You're method-writing!"
See? It makes sense when he says it.
September 25, 2021
I often find myself returning to this short romance for reasons both known and unknown to me. It's like a small piece of amber in which an insect is framed; I place it on the windowsill for a few months, but find myself glancing at it frequently. And, sometimes, I pick it up again for a more thorough look. It might partly be the amber-like quality of the setting: a small New England town (where I now find myself) utterly charming in its quaint myopia. But it is also the greatness that it tries to achieve, which is mirrored in the story's narrative — that of a man too blinkered to his surroundings to realize that the greatest story is that which is just outside his door. His sights are set too high, on mountains and vistas too far afield to be of any use to him; and while his eyes are thus averted, the world passes him by. There is a certain tendency of humanity to engage in such behavior; we call that which is near to us mundane, and pretend that only things far removed from our experience are grand and worth thinking about. Of course, this is truly foolish, and it is this folly that Longfellow hopes to highlight. So while the plot, on its surface, is merely a boilerplate love story (with many tragic elements sometimes overwrought in Longfellow's rather purple prose), the larger theme is a really magnificent one, and one that often hits me hard. I do wonder what I miss when gazing at the mountains. (Reading this alongside Tolkien's Leaf by Niggle is a powerful combo-attack on the mind.) And this feeling is exaggerated by the number of qualities I seem to share with one of the main characters: Mr. Churchill, a man of capability overladen by aspirations, life's little exigencies, and a kind heart (recall here Leaf by Niggle, as well). He never begins his Great Work (the Romance of which he dreams), though it is his chief desire in life. And though the conditions surrounding him are favorable (a supportive wife, a warm and healthy family, good friends, time for leisure and reflection, a private study, and a tragedy unfolding just outside his window), he lacks the willpower to manifest that which is potential in him. And, in some ways, that is the true tragedy of the story.
July 29, 2014
This is a meandering tale of three people in a small town, and how their lives affect each other through everyday events. Could it have had a stronger plot? Yes. Was it quaint in its religious references and antiquated vernacular? Yes. Was the point delicately made that we spend our lives searching the far off mountains for what has been laying on our doorsteps? Yes.
Originally published in 1849, my copy is dedicated to Vera Larson by her teacher in 1910. I wonder what that teacher reflected on after reading this, as the teacher in the book goes the entire plot without realizing his life dream of writing a great Romance Novel while one is happening right outside his own door.
Also, my favorite part had to be where the two best friends each fall in love with the new preacher, but he only loves one. When Cecilia goes to Alice to tell her that Kavenaugh has asked for her hand, Alice's words are so very true: "How very happy you are, and how very wretched am I! You have all the joy of life, I all its loneliness. How little you will think of me now! How little you will need me! I shall be nothing to you - you will forget me!"
It is a scene very real, even today, 162 years later. You feel Alice's pain as her blindness creeps in and her center of happiness, Cecilia, creeps out. So touching. It might not have been Longfellow's best work, but it is very touching and inspiring. Though I have written one romance, it compels me to write another and that, I think, would make him feel that his effort was not in vain.
Originally published in 1849, my copy is dedicated to Vera Larson by her teacher in 1910. I wonder what that teacher reflected on after reading this, as the teacher in the book goes the entire plot without realizing his life dream of writing a great Romance Novel while one is happening right outside his own door.
Also, my favorite part had to be where the two best friends each fall in love with the new preacher, but he only loves one. When Cecilia goes to Alice to tell her that Kavenaugh has asked for her hand, Alice's words are so very true: "How very happy you are, and how very wretched am I! You have all the joy of life, I all its loneliness. How little you will think of me now! How little you will need me! I shall be nothing to you - you will forget me!"
It is a scene very real, even today, 162 years later. You feel Alice's pain as her blindness creeps in and her center of happiness, Cecilia, creeps out. So touching. It might not have been Longfellow's best work, but it is very touching and inspiring. Though I have written one romance, it compels me to write another and that, I think, would make him feel that his effort was not in vain.
September 26, 2020
I read this after learning that Hawthorne and Dickinson thought highly of this poem novel. Although I'm not a particular fan of Longfellow, I enjoyed reading this. It's a quaint yet insightful telling of the loves, passions, failings, sorrows and tragedies of a small New England town. There's also a good dose of humor in it. At first, after completing it, I thought "that was a pleasant read" and didn't think it I'd get any more out of it; but I find it still resonates, particularly it's urging that within the life you live and the people around you is as much romance, heroism and tragedy as there is in the lives of the greats we usually pay attention to -- as well as the importance of being bold and seizing the moment. And lastly, some of his scenes are just pure beauty, even if tragic (e.g., Lucy).
January 22, 2023
3 stars for its character, 1 for its significance (?) finally finished it (the only i had on my phone in the car). the writing style was easy to follow.
also, i feel like i wouldn’t really mind a life like this! even would enjoy it for a little. unfortunately i think (in practice) the simplicity would drive me insanity. also i love money if we’re being real
also, i feel like i wouldn’t really mind a life like this! even would enjoy it for a little. unfortunately i think (in practice) the simplicity would drive me insanity. also i love money if we’re being real
July 28, 2019
Great sketch of life over the course of the year in a small New England village with loving attention to the small dramas of everyday life. Recommended for fans of Cranford or Avonlea.
December 9, 2024
⭐️ One star for the story
⭐️ One star for the author
⭐️ One star for the adorable copy I own
⭐️ One star for the author
⭐️ One star for the adorable copy I own
May 24, 2021
Kui prokrastinatsioon on su teine nimi, Columba tabullaria eksib teelt & traagilisi noote toovad süütute surmad.
”Ja nüüd luba, et annan sulle lugeda mõnd väljavõtet neist imepärastest läkitustest.”
Seda öeldes tõi Cecilia lagedale väikese pakikese kolmnurkseid armastuskirju, roosa paelajupiga kokku seotud. Võtnud sealt huupi ühe, oli ta just lugemist alustamas, kuid peatus, nagu oleks väljas mingi asi ta tähelepanu köitnud. Kruusasel teel kostsid sammud.
“Härra Kavanagh läheb,” ütles ta poolsosinal.
Alice tõusis äkki madalalt toolilt Cecilia kõrvalt ja noored sõbratarid vaatasid aknast välja, et näha mööduvat vaimulikku.
“Kui kena ta on!” ütles Alice tahtmatult.
“Jah, tõepoolest.”
Sel hetkel põrkas Alice aknalt tagasi. Kavanagh oli vaadanud üles, nagu oleks mingi salajane magnet tema pilku ligi tõmmanud. Alice’i põski kattis ere puna, ta langetas silmad, kuid Cecilia jäi aknale edasi vaatama. Kavanagh möödus ja mõne hetke pärast oli ta silmist kadunud.
Kaks sõbratari seisid sõnatult teineteise kõrval.
”Ja nüüd luba, et annan sulle lugeda mõnd väljavõtet neist imepärastest läkitustest.”
Seda öeldes tõi Cecilia lagedale väikese pakikese kolmnurkseid armastuskirju, roosa paelajupiga kokku seotud. Võtnud sealt huupi ühe, oli ta just lugemist alustamas, kuid peatus, nagu oleks väljas mingi asi ta tähelepanu köitnud. Kruusasel teel kostsid sammud.
“Härra Kavanagh läheb,” ütles ta poolsosinal.
Alice tõusis äkki madalalt toolilt Cecilia kõrvalt ja noored sõbratarid vaatasid aknast välja, et näha mööduvat vaimulikku.
“Kui kena ta on!” ütles Alice tahtmatult.
“Jah, tõepoolest.”
Sel hetkel põrkas Alice aknalt tagasi. Kavanagh oli vaadanud üles, nagu oleks mingi salajane magnet tema pilku ligi tõmmanud. Alice’i põski kattis ere puna, ta langetas silmad, kuid Cecilia jäi aknale edasi vaatama. Kavanagh möödus ja mõne hetke pärast oli ta silmist kadunud.
Kaks sõbratari seisid sõnatult teineteise kõrval.
May 22, 2025
Of course, H. W. Longfellow is much more famous for his poetry, than for his novels.
This one is a sketch of life over the course of the year in a small New England village with loving attention to the small dramas of everyday life.
Published for the first time in 1849, it was rather unknown to the large public, even if great names like Emily Dickinson, Nathaniel Hawthorne and Ralph Waldo Emerson valued it quite a lot.
This one is a sketch of life over the course of the year in a small New England village with loving attention to the small dramas of everyday life.
Published for the first time in 1849, it was rather unknown to the large public, even if great names like Emily Dickinson, Nathaniel Hawthorne and Ralph Waldo Emerson valued it quite a lot.
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