According to one observer, when the monument the Revisiting Series examined this week was unveiled on M and Connecticut Streets NW, the place was absolutely buzzing. The heroic bronze figure sat draped in his academic robe, book in hand, and looked out on the streets packed with the wide spectrum of adoring fans: men, women, and children “of all races and nationalities.”

It was May 7, 1909. The Marine Band played "The Star-Spangled Banner" and "America the Beautiful" while the flag that had previously covered the statue “floated above the heads of the great throng.” Then a Reverend blessed the ceremony—such was the power of the man!

And yet for all the pomp with which it was dedicated, when DCist went to see this monument of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow one recent evening, we could hardly see him. The man described as “the joyful, enthusiastic mouthpiece of what was best in his time” sits unlit, alone, and stranded on an island in the middle of the noisy intersection southeast of Dupont Circle.

Photo courtesy of dcmonuments.com

Rev. George R. Grose wrote in the Zion’s Herald that at the dedication there was a large shield in the middle of the platform which read (from Longfellow’s “The Building of a Ship”):

“Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
Humanity, with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!”

And yet the other evening, the only inscription we could find was one word: LONGFELLOW.

Even though interest in the monument has obviously waned considerably—our contact at the NPS said, “In my six years here, no on has ever asked about the monument”—the original context of the monument’s construction is, as the Revisiting Series tends to find with most forgotten monuments, rather fascinating.

The monument was erected not only as a testament to one of this country’s greatest poets, but also as a statement of American culture. For at the time of the unveiling, according to Grose, there were no national monuments in D.C. that commemorated American literature.

Grose mentions the Poets’ Corner in Westminster Abbey, and is both relieved and jubilant that the nation was able to raise the $35,000—“by gifts from rich and poor”—to celebrate Longfellow’s contribution to American literature and society. Grose was sure the monument cemented the U.S.’s legitimacy in global culture and expressed the nation’s propulsion into a new age. Indeed, Longfellow, “while he makes us feel the nobility of his white soul, and brings close to our view the great, simple, normal life of humanity,” would be a fine model for America as it sought to keep its morals and traditions in order while adjusting to a frenetically industrialized, internationalizing modernity.

There may not be “flags, wreaths, and festoons of laurel and bunches of iris, the poet’s favorite flower,” commemorating Longfellow anymore, but surely we have space in our hearts for a little appreciation for one of the most important figures in American literature. So next time you find yourself stuck in traffic or transitioning from one Dupont bar to another, take a second to pay your respects. Remember peaceful old Longfellow, the poet who was not only "the purest democrat known to humanity," but a crucial player in this country's cultural maturation.