Born at Philadelphia, Oct. 10, 1802; died at New York, July 6, 1864. An American journalist and poet. With Samuel Woodworth he established the “New York Mirror” in 1823 (discontinued in 1842), with N. P. Willis the “New Mirror” in 1843, and shortly after the “Evening Mirror.” In 1845 he founded the “National Press.” Its name was changed in a few months to “The Home Journal.” This he edited with Willis till shortly before his death. He wrote “Briarcliff” (1825), etc., and edited “American Melodies” and, with N. P. Willis, “The Prose and Poetry of America” (1845). Among his best-known poems are “Woodman, Spare that Tree” and “My Mother’s Bible.”
Personal
He was about five feet two or three inches high, or, perhaps, a few inches more, not much more, however. His face was genial and pleasant. Short, crisp, dark curly hair, thinly streaked with silver threads, encircled a high, well-formed forehead, beneath which was a pair of bright, twinkling black eyes. The nose was well-shaped, and the mouth and chin cast in delicate moulds, the latter being slightly dimpled. The complexion was fresh and florid; altogether the aspect of the face was decidedly intellectual; not your pseudo-pensive, thoughtful sort of expression—that mock sentimentalism of look which certain young gentlemen, with turn-down collars, rejoice in, but a pleasant, vivacious, sparkling Tom Moore-ish look, which at once convinced you that its owner was open-hearted, as well as open-faced. The gentleman, too, had a semi-military air and carriage, albeit, he had by no means a martial figure.
It happened one day that I was driving in the vicinity of New York with George Morris, the American poet. We turned into Bloomfield Road, then a woodland lane of great natural beauty, to view at Morris’s request a stately old tree, which had been planted by the poet’s grandfather. I well remember the ring of genuine pathos in Morris’s voice as he told me, on our way towards the tree, of the tender recollections associated with the old homestead to which it was contiguous. His happy boyhood in the old home, surrounded by father, mother, and sisters, all came back to him at the mention of that old tree. Little did we dream of the drama that was to follow. As we neared the homely cottage that had once housed the Morris family, my friend noticed an old man with his coat off, sharpening an axe. “What are you going to do?” asked the poet, with a tremor of apprehension in his tone. “You surely do not intend to cut down that tree?” “Yes, siree,” was the blunt reply of the old man, who was evidently the occupant of one of the cottages. Morris and I descended from our trap to hold a parley with the old fellow. In conversation it transpired that the old man did not fancy having the tree so near his house. Besides, he wanted it for firewood. We asked him how much the wood would be worth, and he replied, “About ten dollars.” So a bargain was speedily made; the money was paid to him, and the daughter of the woodman pledged her word that the tree should stand as long as she lived. Now this incident made a deep impression upon me, and I suggested it to Morris as a fine subject for poetic treatment. He took the hint and wrote the now well-known poem, “Oh, Woodman, Spare that Tree,” which I immediately set to music.
No poet of his generation was more loved both in Europe and America.
General
Morris is, very decidedly, our best writer of songs—and, in saying this, I mean to assign him a high rank as poet.
Morris is the best known poet of the country, by acclamation, not by criticism. He is just what poets would be if they sang, like birds, without criticism; and it is a peculiarity of his fame, that it seems as regardless of criticism, as a bird in the air. Nothing can stop a song of his. It is very easy to say that they are easy to do. They have a momentum, somehow, that is difficult for others to give, and that speeds them to the far goal of popularity—the best proof consisting in the fact, that he can, at any moment, get fifty dollars for a song unread, when the whole remainder of the American Parnassus could not sell one to the same buyer for a shilling. It may, or may not, be one secret of his popularity, but it is the truth—that Morris’s heart is at the level of most other people’s and his poetry flows out by that door. He stands breast-high in the common stream of sympathy, and the fine oil of his poetic feeling goes from him upon an element it is its nature to float upon, and which carries it safe to other bosoms, with little need of deep diving or high-flying. His sentiments are simple, honest, truthful and familiar; his language is pure and eminently musical, and he is prodigally full of the poetry of every-day feeling.
In our judgment, there is no professed writer of songs in this day who has conceived the true character of this delicate and peculiar creation of art with greater precision and justness than Mr. Morris, or been more felicitous than he in dealing with the subtle and multiform difficulties that beset its execution.
George P. Morris, among the honored contributors to American poetry, whose pieces are familiar, is recognised as the song-writer of America.
The most genuine lyric poet who has yet honored American literature, was George P. Morris. His songs are almost as familiar to American and English households as the music of birds, and they are ever welcome guests, for they are chaste in language and sentiment. They are magnetic because of their sympathy with the finer feelings of human nature. The author’s genial humor, and kindliness of heart were ever manifest in his writings; and these qualities gave him hosts of friends among those even who never looked upon his ruddy face and sparkling black eyes…. It was not as a journalist that General (he held the office of brigadier) Morris won his widest popularity. It was chiefly and most substantially by his songs. These were ever sought after; and Balfe, Sir John Stephenson, Sir Henry Bishop and other English composers wedded them to sweet melodies, when they were sung by Malibran, Braham, Russell, Dempster, Anna Bishop and other noted vocalists, at public concerts. Millions of copies of “Woodman, Spare that Tree” were sold; and other songs, such as “We were Boys Together,” “My Mother’s Bible,” “Origin of Yankee Doodle,” “Long Time Ago,” were sources of great profit to author and publisher, because of their popularity.
He has written odes and songs for a wide diversity of occasions, temperaments, and modes of feeling, from grave to gay, without ever pandering to a low taste, or giving voice to an unworthy sentiment. The popularity of his lyrics is the surest testimony to their poetic worth…. Mr. Morris has an easy command of rhythm and metre. His verses are music to the ear, as well as poetry to the inward sense. They are not such verses as feebly suit existing melodies, but such as would of themselves inspire and reward the musical composer, and could not fail to prescribe and enforce at his hand, each its appropriate style of treatment. They commonly seize on the one central idea of the occasion or theme, give perfect unity to its expression, and group around it just those subsidiary thoughts that render it more emphatic.
The songs of Mr. Morris have been produced at intervals during the whole term of his literary career. They have been successfully set to music, and popularly sung on both sides of the Atlantic. The themes include most varieties of situation, presenting the love ballad, the patriotic song, the expression of patriotism, of friendship, and numerous occasional topics.
It is chiefly as a song writer that Morris will be best remembered. Some of his lyrics such as “Woodman, Spare that Tree,” and “Near the Lake where Drooped the Willow,” are compositions of which any poet might be proud. A proof of the great popularity of Morris as a poet is the fact that for above a score of years he could, any day, exchange one of his songs unread for a fifty-dollar cheque, when none of the literati of New York could at that time sell one for the fifth part of that sum. Between 1838, the year that he published “The Deserted Bride, and Other Poems,” and 1860, when the last edition of his poetical writings appeared, several collections of his songs, ballads, and poems were issued by some of the best New York publishers. His military title,… comes from his connection with the state militia.
Morris is strong in the expression of simple sentiments, such as are assured of the ready sympathy of the people. Of his poems, “Woodman, Spare that Tree!” is the best known; of others, his “Song of Marion’s Men” is meritorious as a stirring and native ballad. These two poems and a few others will live with the songs of the nation, while his more ambitious efforts are already forgotten.
