Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906). Above, a recently discovered unpublished image of Paul, the happily newlywed young poet with his wife, Alice. The curved image suggests a snapshot taken with the newly released Brownie camera (c. 1900).
During his tragically short life, Dunbar became a versatile and prolific novelist, poet, essayist, and playwright. At age 20 he published his first collection of poetry, Oak and Ivy. A second collection Majors and Minors, followed three years later and received a favorable review by Harper’s Weekly editor, William Dean Howells, who favored the poet’s oft use of dialect. Literary fame enabled him to re-publish his two earlier works as the collective, Lyrics of Lowly Life.
Dunbar’s father was an escaped slave who had joined the 55th Massachusetts Regiment during the Civil War. That powerful legacy is recalled, but from from a mother’s viewpoint, in the following 1896 poem first published in his 1901 illustrated book of verse, Candle-Lightn’ Time:
W’en Dey ‘Listed Colored Soldiers
Dey was talkin’ in de cabin, dey was talkin’ in de hall;
But I listened kin’ o’ keerless, not a–t’inkin’ ‘bout it all;
An’ on Sunday, too, I noticed, dey was whisp’rin’ mighty much,
Stan’in’ all erroun’ de roadside w’en dey let us out o’ chu’ch.
But I did n’t t’ink erbout it ‘twell de middle of de week,
An’ my ‘Lias come to see me, an’ somehow he could n’t speak.
Den I seed all in a minute whut he ‘d come to see me for;—
Dey had ‘listed colo’ed sojers an’ my ‘Lias gwine to wah.
Oh, I hugged him, an’ I kissed him, an’ I baiged him not to go;
But he tol’ me dat his conscience, hit was callin’ to him so,
An’ he could n’t baih to lingah w’en he had a chanst to fight
For de freedom dey had gin him an’ de glory of de right.
So he kissed me, an’ he lef me, w’en I ‘d p’omised to be true;
An’ dey put a knapsack on him, an’ a coat all colo’ed blue.
So I gin him pap’s ol’ Bible f’om de bottom of de draw’,—
W’en dey ‘listed colo’ed sojers an’ my ‘Lias went to wah.
But I t’ought of all de weary miles dat he would have to tramp,
An’ I could n’t be contented w’en dey tuk him to de camp.
W’y my hea’t nigh broke wid grievin’ ‘twell I seed him on de street;
Den I felt lak I could go an’ th’ow my body at his feet.
For his buttons was a–shinin’, an’ his face was shinin’, too,
An’ he looked so strong an’ mighty in his coat o’ sojer blue,
Dat I hollahed, “Step up, manny,” dough my th’oat was so’ an’ raw,—
W’en dey ‘listed colo’ed sojers an’ my ‘Lias went to wah.
Ol’ Mis’ cried w’en mastah lef huh, young Miss mou’ned huh brothah Ned,
An’ I did n’t know dey feelin’s is de ve’y wo’ds dey said
W’en I tol’ ‘em I was so’y. Dey had done gin up dey all;
But dey only seemed mo’ proudah dat dey men had hyeahed de call.
Bofe my mastahs went in gray suits, an’ I loved de Yankee blue,
But I t’ought dat I could sorrer for de losin’ of ‘em too;
But I could n’t, for I did n’t know de ha’f o’ whut I saw,
‘Twell dey ‘listed colo’ed sojers an’ my ‘Lias went to wah.
Mastah Jack come home all sickly; he was broke for life, dey said;
An’ dey lef my po’ young mastah some’r’s on de roadside,—dead.
W’en de women cried an’ mou’ned ‘em, I could feel it thoo an’ thoo,
For I had a loved un fightin’ in de way o’ dangah, too.
Den dey tol’ me dey had laid him some’r’s way down souf to res’,
Wid de flag dat he had fit for shinin’ daih acrost his breas’.
Well, I cried, but den I reckon dat ’s whut Gawd had called him for,
W’en dey ‘listed colo’ed sojers an’ my ‘Lias went to wah.
Dunbar’s subsequent short stories, novels, essays, and a play, often examining racial prejudice, found reception in national venues and literary magazines. He wrote the lyrics for In Dahomey, the first Broadway musical written and performed exclusively by African Americans. The 1902 production, one of the most successful of its time, toured the U.S. and England for four years and was a springboard for upcoming comic star Bert Williams, as well as spawning all-black productions like Abyssinia (1906) and Bandanna Land (1908).