A DUTCH PICTURE by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
A retired Dutch privateer, Simon Danz, returns home wealthy from his exploits, but finds it hard to adjust to everyday life—his garden resembles a battlefield, his windmills evoke Spanish towers, and the pull of the sea is ever-present.
The poem
Simon Danz has come home again, From cruising about with his buccaneers; He has singed the beard of the King of Spain, And carried away the Dean of Jaen And sold him in Algiers. In his house by the Maese, with its roof of tiles, And weathercocks flying aloft in air, There are silver tankards of antique styles, Plunder of convent and castle, and piles Of carpets rich and rare. In his tulip-garden there by the town, Overlooking the sluggish stream, With his Moorish cap and dressing-gown, The old sea-captain, hale and brown, Walks in a waking dream. A smile in his gray mustachio lurks Whenever he thinks of the King of Spain, And the listed tulips look like Turks, And the silent gardener as he works Is changed to the Dean of Jaen. The windmills on the outermost Verge of the landscape in the haze, To him are towers on the Spanish coast, With whiskered sentinels at their post, Though this is the river Maese. But when the winter rains begin, He sits and smokes by the blazing brands, And old seafaring men come in, Goat-bearded, gray, and with double chin, And rings upon their hands. They sit there in the shadow and shine Of the flickering fire of the winter night; Figures in color and design Like those by Rembrandt of the Rhine, Half darkness and half light. And they talk of ventures lost or won, And their talk is ever and ever the same, While they drink the red wine of Tarragon, From the cellars of some Spanish Don, Or convent set on flame. Restless at times with heavy strides He paces his parlor to and fro; He is like a ship that at anchor rides, And swings with the rising and falling tides, And tugs at her anchor-tow. Voices mysterious far and near, Sound of the wind and sound of the sea, Are calling and whispering in his ear, "Simon Danz! Why stayest thou here? Come forth and follow me!" So he thinks he shall take to the sea again For one more cruise with his buccaneers, To singe the beard of the King of Spain, And capture another Dean of Jaen And sell him in Algiers.
A retired Dutch privateer, Simon Danz, returns home wealthy from his exploits, but finds it hard to adjust to everyday life—his garden resembles a battlefield, his windmills evoke Spanish towers, and the pull of the sea is ever-present. The poem traces his restless days and evenings spent by the fire until he realizes he must set sail once more. It captures the essence of a man who is more at home on the sea than in any house.
Line-by-line
Simon Danz has come home again, / From cruising about with his buccaneers;
In his house by the Maese, with its roof of tiles,
In his tulip-garden there by the town, / Overlooking the sluggish stream,
A smile in his gray mustachio lurks / Whenever he thinks of the King of Spain,
The windmills on the outermost / Verge of the landscape in the haze,
But when the winter rains begin, / He sits and smokes by the blazing brands,
They sit there in the shadow and shine / Of the flickering fire of the winter night;
And they talk of ventures lost or won, / And their talk is ever and ever the same,
Restless at times with heavy strides / He paces his parlor to and fro;
Voices mysterious far and near, / Sound of the wind and sound of the sea,
So he thinks he shall take to the sea again / For one more cruise with his buccaneers,
Tone & mood
Warm, nostalgic, and gently ironic. Longfellow clearly has a fondness for Simon Danz — he doesn't pass moral judgment on piracy; instead, he paints an affectionate picture of a man who feels out of place on land. The tone remains light even as the restlessness turns to melancholy, and the lively ballad rhythm carries the flow like the sea itself.
Symbols & metaphors
- The tulip garden — Tulips are quintessentially Dutch, making the garden a symbol of home, domestic life, and the everyday existence that Simon is expected to desire. However, as he sees Turkish soldiers among the flowers, the garden also reflects how thoroughly the sea has taken over his thoughts — he can’t view peace without envisioning war.
- The windmills — Windmills are a well-known feature of the Dutch landscape, but Simon sees Spanish coastal towers when he looks at them. They symbolize the fragile line between his current reality and the adventurous life he remembers — the familiar Dutch world feels like it's constantly about to blend into the Spanish Main.
- The ship at anchor — Longfellow uses a powerful metaphor to describe Simon's condition. A ship at anchor may not be free, but it's also not completely at rest; it sways and pulls with each tide. This imagery conveys the unique suffering of a restless individual striving for stillness: the struggle is ongoing, yet true peace remains elusive.
- The Rembrandt firelight — The image of old sailors gathered around the fire, captured in chiaroscuro, reflects both the beauty and the constraints of memory. Much like a Rembrandt painting, it feels vibrant and warm yet also static — these men remain caught in their past glories, half illuminated and half slipping into shadow.
- The voice of the sea — The sea calling Simon by name elevates the poem from a character study to something more mythic. The ocean isn't just a workplace; it's a powerful force with its own will. Simon's struggle to resist it implies that some individuals are deeply tied to a life that they can never truly escape.
Historical context
Longfellow published "A Dutch Picture" in his 1878 collection *Kéramos and Other Poems*, during his seventies. The poem reflects on the longstanding rivalry between the Dutch Republic and Spain in the seventeenth century, when Dutch privateers—acting like a mix of licensed pirates and naval auxiliaries—attacked Spanish ships and coastal towns. The line "singe the beard of the King of Spain" references Sir Francis Drake's famous claim following his 1587 raid on Cádiz. Longfellow had a genuine interest in Dutch culture and painting; his mention of Rembrandt aligns with a broader fascination in nineteenth-century America with the Dutch Golden Age as a symbol of wealth and artistic success. The poem fits into a tradition of literary genre painting—using words to capture the essence of a visual piece—that was popular among Victorian and post-Romantic poets across both sides of the Atlantic.
FAQ
Longfellow created Simon Danz as a blend of various traits rather than a depiction of a single privateer. The name has a Dutch ring to it, and the actions — raiding Spanish shores, selling captives in Algiers, and residing along the Meuse — could realistically belong to a Dutch privateer from the 1600s. However, no specific historical figure named Simon Danz has been pinpointed as the inspiration.
It's a historical phrase that refers to a daring and humiliating raid on Spanish land. The English privateer Francis Drake famously used this expression after he attacked the Spanish fleet at Cádiz in 1587. Longfellow takes it to connect Simon to that same audacious tradition and to instantly evoke the spirit of the time in the poem.
Rembrandt van Rijn mastered chiaroscuro, skillfully depicting figures illuminated by firelight or candlelight set against deep shadows. The scene of old sailors huddled around a winter fire perfectly embodies the kind of intimate, textured moments Rembrandt captured in his paintings. By referencing him, Longfellow suggests that the entire poem aims to achieve in words what Dutch Golden Age painters accomplished on canvas: portraying everyday life with both warmth and precision.
The poem features ballad-like stanzas of five lines, following a lively AABBA rhyme scheme (often referred to as a limerick structure, but here it carries a more dignified tone). This rolling, forward-moving rhythm echoes the sea's motion and maintains a light feel, even as the subject takes a melancholic turn. It's an apt choice for a tale about a man who can never seem to stay still.
Both, and that's the point. Simon enjoys comfort, wealth, and the company of friends, yet he feels fundamentally out of place on land. The poem approaches this with warmth instead of sorrow — Longfellow isn't feeling sorry for Simon; he's honoring a man who truly understands himself. The circular ending, where Simon chooses to return to the sea and experience it all once more, feels like a release rather than a loss.
Jaén is a city in southern Spain, and its dean was a senior church official — a significant hostage or ransom target for a privateer. Selling him in Algiers meant passing him off to North African buyers, a common practice in the Mediterranean slave trade at the time. The Dean keeps coming to Simon's mind (he sees him in the gardener) because the capture was undoubtedly one of his proudest achievements.
The circular structure is intentional. Longfellow illustrates that Simon's life lacks a final chapter — it simply goes in circles. The same raid, the same king, the same captive. For some individuals, home serves as a brief break between adventures instead of a final destination, and the poem's form reflects that reality by looping back on itself.
It's a double meaning. On one level, it’s a picture *of* Dutch life — showing a scene in the Netherlands with a Dutch sea captain. On another level, it represents a picture *in the style of* Dutch Golden Age painting, especially the genre scenes of daily life that Rembrandt, Vermeer, and their peers are known for. Longfellow is framing the poem as a verbal counterpart to that tradition.