PROF. VERE DE BLAW by Eugene Field: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
A Colorado mining-camp restaurant owner named Casey hires a struggling piano professor named Vere de Blaw to elevate the atmosphere.
The poem
Achievin' sech distinction with his moddel tabble dote Ez to make his Red Hoss Mountain restauraw a place uv note, Our old friend Casey innovated somewhat round the place, In hopes he would ameliorate the sufferin's uv the race; 'Nd uv the many features Casey managed to import The most important wuz a Steenway gran' pianny-fort, An' bein' there wuz nobody could play upon the same, He telegraffed to Denver, 'nd a real perfesser came,-- The last an' crownin' glory uv the Casey restauraw Wuz that tenderfoot musicianer, Perfesser Vere de Blaw! His hair wuz long an' dishybill, an' he had a yaller skin, An' the absence uv a collar made his neck look powerful thin: A sorry man he wuz to see, az mebby you'd surmise, But the fire uv inspiration wuz a-blazin' in his eyes! His name wuz Blanc, wich same is Blaw (for that's what Casey said, An' Casey passed the French ez well ez any Frenchie bred); But no one ever reckoned that it really wuz his name, An' no one ever asked him how or why or whence he came,-- Your ancient history is a thing the Coloradan hates, An' no one asks another what his name wuz in the States! At evenin', when the work wuz done, an' the miners rounded up At Casey's, to indulge in keerds or linger with the cup, Or dally with the tabble dote in all its native glory, Perfessor Vere de Blaw discoursed his music repertory Upon the Steenway gran' piannyfort, the wich wuz sot In the hallway near the kitchen (a warm but quiet spot), An' when De Blaw's environments induced the proper pride,-- Wich gen'rally wuz whiskey straight, with seltzer on the side,-- He throwed his soulful bein' into opry airs 'nd things Wich bounded to the ceilin' like he'd mesmerized the strings. Oh, you that live in cities where the gran' piannies grow, An' primy donnies round up, it's little that you know Uv the hungerin' an' the yearnin' wich us miners an' the rest Feel for the songs we used to hear before we moved out West. Yes, memory is a pleasant thing, but it weakens mighty quick; It kind uv dries an' withers, like the windin' mountain crick, That, beautiful, an' singin' songs, goes dancin' to the plains, So long ez it is fed by snows an' watered by the rains; But, uv that grace uv lovin' rains 'nd mountain snows bereft, Its bleachin' rocks, like dummy ghosts, is all its memory left. The toons wich the perfesser would perform with sech eclaw Would melt the toughest mountain gentleman I ever saw,-- Sech touchin' opry music ez the Trovytory sort, The sollum "Mizer Reery," an' the thrillin' "Keely Mort;" Or, sometimes, from "Lee Grond Dooshess" a trifle he would play, Or morsoze from a' opry boof, to drive dull care away; Or, feelin' kind uv serious, he'd discourse somewhat in C,-- The wich he called a' opus (whatever that may be); But the toons that fetched the likker from the critics in the crowd Wuz _not_ the high-toned ones, Perfesser Vere de Blaw allowed. 'T wuz "Dearest May," an' "Bonnie Doon," an' the ballard uv "Ben Bolt," Ez wuz regarded by all odds ez Vere de Blaw's best holt; Then there wuz "Darlin' Nellie Gray," an' "Settin' on the Stile," An' "Seein' Nellie Home," an' "Nancy Lee," 'nd "Annie Lisle," An' "Silver Threads among the Gold," an' "The Gal that Winked at Me," An' "Gentle Annie," "Nancy Till," an' "The Cot beside the Sea." Your opry airs is good enough for them ez likes to pay Their money for the truck ez can't be got no other way; But opry to a miner is a thin an' holler thing,--The music that he pines for is the songs he used to sing. One evenin' down at Casey's De Blaw wuz at his best, With four-fingers uv old Wilier-run concealed beneath his vest; The boys wuz settin' all around, discussin' folks an' things, 'Nd I had drawed the necessary keerds to fill on kings; Three-fingered Hoover kind uv leaned acrosst the bar to say If Casey'd liquidate right off, _he'd_ liquidate next day; A sperrit uv contentment wuz a-broodin' all around (Onlike the other sperrits wich in restauraws abound), When, suddenly, we heerd from yonder kitchen-entry rise A toon each ornery galoot appeared to recognize. Perfesser Vere de Blaw for once eschewed his opry ways, An' the remnants uv his mind went back to earlier, happier days, An' grappled like an' wrassled with a' old familiar air The wich we all uv us had heern, ez you have, everywhere! Stock still we stopped,--some in their talk uv politics an' things, I in my unobtrusive attempt to fill on kings, 'Nd Hoover leanin' on the bar, an' Casey at the till,-- We all stopped short an' held our breaths (ez a feller sometimes will), An' sot there more like bumps on logs than healthy, husky men, Ez the memories uv that old, old toon come sneakin' back again. You've guessed it? No, you hav n't; for it wuzn't that there song Uv the home we'd been away from an' had hankered for so long,-- No, sir; it wuzn't "Home, Sweet Home," though it's always heard around Sech neighborhoods in wich the home that _is_ "sweet home" is found. And, ez for me, I seemed to see the past come back again, And hear the deep-drawed sigh my sister Lucy uttered when Her mother asked her if she 'd practised her two hours that day, Wich, if she hadn't, she must go an' do it right away! The homestead in the States 'nd all its memories seemed to come A-floatin' round about me with that magic lumty-tum. And then uprose a stranger wich had struck the camp that night; His eyes wuz sot an' fireless, 'nd his face wuz spookish white, 'Nd he sez: "Oh, how I suffer there is nobody kin say, Onless, like me, he's wrenched himself from home an' friends away To seek surcease from sorrer in a fur, seclooded spot, Only to find--alars, too late!--the wich surcease is not! Only to find that there air things that, somehow, seem to live For nothin' in the world but jest the misery they give! I've travelled eighteen hundred miles, but that toon has got here first; I'm done,--I'm blowed,--I welcome death, an' bid it do its worst!" Then, like a man whose mind wuz sot on yieldin' to his fate, He waltzed up to the counter an' demanded whiskey straight, Wich havin' got outside uv,--both the likker and the door,-- We never seen that stranger in the bloom uv health no more! But some months later, what the birds had left uv him wuz found Associated with a tree, some distance from the ground; And Husky Sam, the coroner, that set upon him, said That two things wuz apparent, namely: first, deceast wuz dead; And, second, previously had got involved beyond all hope In a knotty complication with a yard or two uv rope!
A Colorado mining-camp restaurant owner named Casey hires a struggling piano professor named Vere de Blaw to elevate the atmosphere. The professor can perform elaborate opera pieces, but it’s the old parlor songs from back East that resonate deeply with the miners. One night, while playing one of those familiar tunes, he inadvertently pushes a homesick stranger into despair, leading to the man taking his own life. This darkly comic tall tale unfolds with surprising emotional depth, exploring themes of memory, exile, and the pain of being away from home.
Line-by-line
Achievin' sech distinction with his moddel tabble dote / Ez to make his Red Hoss Mountain restauraw a place uv note,
His hair wuz long an' dishybill, an' he had a yaller skin,
At evenin', when the work wuz done, an' the miners rounded up / At Casey's,
Oh, you that live in cities where the gran' piannies grow,
The toons wich the perfesser would perform with sech eclaw / Would melt the toughest mountain gentleman I ever saw,
'T wuz 'Dearest May,' an' 'Bonnie Doon,' an' the ballard uv 'Ben Bolt,'
One evenin' down at Casey's De Blaw wuz at his best,
Perfesser Vere de Blaw for once eschewed his opry ways,
You've guessed it? No, you hav n't; for it wuzn't that there song
And then uprose a stranger wich had struck the camp that night;
Then, like a man whose mind wuz sot on yieldin' to his fate,
Tone & mood
Broadly comic and affectionate, the piece is crafted in a thick phonetic frontier dialect that maintains a lighthearted tone. Yet, beneath the humor lies a real sense of longing—Field clearly cares for these miners and feels their desire to return home. The final stanza veers into dark comedy, detailing a man's suicide in the clinical terms of a coroner's report, which strikes a balance between being funny and unsettling. The overall impression is akin to a campfire story shared by someone who’s both laughing and carrying a hint of sadness.
Symbols & metaphors
- The unnamed tune — The song "De Blaw" that brings the room to a halt is never named. That silence is intentional — it represents the music each listener personally associates with home and childhood. By leaving it unnamed, Field makes it relatable to everyone.
- The Steinway grand piano — A concert grand piano in a rugged mining-camp restaurant is a funny mismatch, yet it also reflects the miners' true desire for beauty and culture. Casey brings it in as a status symbol, but it ultimately becomes a way for them to express their homesickness.
- The mountain creek — Field's extended simile for memory compares it to a creek nourished by snow and rain, which is both beautiful and musical. However, when cut off from its source, it dries up to bare rocks. Memory operates similarly — without the vibrant connections of home, it dwindles into a mere shadow of what it once was.
- The stranger — He arrives without a name and departs lifeless. He embodies an exaggerated version of every miner present—a man who attempted to escape his past but discovered he couldn't. His fate elicits dark humor, yet he also serves as a cautionary tale about the consequences of unresolved homesickness.
- Opera vs. parlor songs — High culture, like opera and 'opry airs', symbolizes aspiration and sophistication—it's what people often perform to appear refined. In contrast, the old parlor songs evoke genuine emotional memories. The poem straightforwardly argues that this second type of music is the one that truly matters.
Historical context
Eugene Field wrote this poem in the 1880s while he was a columnist for the Chicago Morning News and already well-known for his humorous frontier verse. During this time, Colorado's mining camps were thriving, attracting men who had left their families and familiar lives back East in pursuit of silver and gold. Although Field never lived in a mining camp, he gained insight into the culture through his journalism and the broader American experience of westward migration. This poem fits within the tradition of comic dialect verse — think Bret Harte or James Whitcomb Riley — that employed exaggerated regional speech to narrate stories about everyday working people. Field's unique talent was weaving genuine sentiment into his humor: the poem's comedic take on a man driven to suicide by a piano tune resonates because the homesickness it depicts is deeply authentic. The parlor songs De Blaw plays — "Ben Bolt," "Silver Threads Among the Gold," "Bonnie Doon" — were popular hits of the mid-19th century, instantly recognizable to Field's readers.
FAQ
Field never reveals the details. This is intentional. The narrator playfully challenges the reader—'Think you've figured it out? No, you haven't'—and proceeds to share only his personal recollection of his sister being sent to practice piano. The song remains unnamed, allowing each reader to imagine their own version.
Both aspects contribute to its intrigue. The dialect spelling, the comic opera titles, and the deadpan coroner's verdict all aim for humor. However, the stanza comparing memory to a drying mountain creek and the scene of miners paused at their cards by an old tune are truly poignant. Field excelled at concealing genuine emotion within a joke.
Dialect verse was a very popular style in 19th-century American journalism and poetry. Writers such as Bret Harte, James Whitcomb Riley, and Field used phonetic spelling to show that the narrator was an everyday working person, not a literary gentleman. This approach made the poems feel more immediate and spoken, rather than just written.
'Ben Bolt' (1843), 'Bonnie Doon' (Robert Burns), 'Darling Nelly Gray' (1856), 'Silver Threads Among the Gold' (1873), and 'Annie Lisle' (1857) were beloved parlor songs in the mid-19th century — the type of tunes families gathered around the piano to sing. Field's original readers would have been familiar with each of these.
It's a phonetic spelling of *table d'hôte*, a French phrase referring to a fixed-price meal with a specific menu. The humor in Casey providing one in a Colorado mining camp lies in his attempt to introduce a bit of European elegance to such a rugged environment.
The frontier West had a distinct culture of avoiding questions about a person's past. Many men who went to the mining camps were escaping something—debt, a failed marriage, legal issues, or simply a life they wished to leave behind. The unspoken rule was to accept people as they were and not to ask too many questions.
He clearly favors popular culture for this audience. The miners listen politely to the opera excerpts, but it’s the old sentimental ballads — the songs from home — that truly move them to tears. Field isn’t against opera; he highlights that when you’re homesick and far from everything familiar, emotional connection trumps technical skill.
It plays out as a black comedy — the coroner's verdict, describing a 'knotty complication with a yard or two of rope,' is intentionally ridiculous. However, the stranger's speech before he drinks and leaves powerfully captures the impact of homesickness and exile on a person. Field keeps the humor flowing so that the true darkness of the ending doesn’t fully hit you until you've finished.