Remembered as a novelist and poet, Elizabeth Drew Barstow Stoddard was the second of nine children raised in Mattapoisett, Massachusetts, a setting she drew on for her novels.
This brief obituary of Richard Henry Stoddard discusses his poetic and editorial careers.
Stedman is mentioned as "the closest of the poet's surviving friends." The writer quotes Stedman's remarks that Stoddard's poetry exhibited "affluence, sincere feeling, strength, a manner peculiarly his own, very delicate fancy, and, above all, an imagination at times exceeded by that of no other American poet" (378).
Her husband's obituary describes her as "the woman of genius who remained his helpmeet until about a year ago" (378).
The brief note identifies Stoddard as "the veteran poet, critic, and journalist." "Stoddard died at his home in New York, on the morning of May 12, having nearly completed his seventy-eighth year" (378). According to the note, Stoddard was a "New Englander by birth," but had come to New York during his boyhood.
"Tailoring, blacksmithing, iron moulding, and law office work were among his early ventures, before he gained the recognition as a writer toward which his ambitions had been drifting since his boyhood years." Stoddard became was a magazine contributor during the early years of his literary career, and he published his first volume of poetry, "Footprints," in 1849, at the age of 24 (378).
The note also mentions Stoddard's job at the New York Custom House (1853-1870), which "gave him a livlihood during his most productive literary period." During this time he was also the literary reviewer for the "World" and had held the same position at the "Mail and Express" for the last 25 years of his life (378).
Stoddard published many books "including juveniles, critical monographs, and collections of verse, besides those to which his relation was editorial" (378).
According to the writer, "He has never been a popular poet, in the sense in which his famous New England contemporaries were popular, but the judicious know his work and esteem it highly" (278).
The writer mentions that Stoddard wrote a lot, but much if it was journalism and has "been consigned to oblivion." The writer is positive, however, that enough of Stoddard's work will survive "to insure the holding of his memory in grateful recollection." The writer also mentions that Stoddard was working on a collection before he died, which will be published posthumously (378).
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