THE STODDARDS by Eugene Field: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
Eugene Field offers a heartfelt and humorous tribute to his friends Richard Henry Stoddard and his wife Elizabeth.
The poem
When I am in New York, I like to drop around at night, To visit with my honest, genial friends, the Stoddards hight; Their home in Fifteenth street is all so snug, and furnished so, That, when I once get planted there, I don't know when to go; A cosy cheerful refuge for the weary homesick guest, Combining Yankee comforts with the freedom of the west. The first thing you discover, as you maunder through the hall, Is a curious little clock upon a bracket on the wall; 'T was made by Stoddard's father, and it's very, very old-- The connoisseurs assure me it is worth its weight in gold; And I, who've bought all kinds of clocks, 'twixt Denver and the Rhine, Cast envious eyes upon that clock, and wish that it were mine. But in the parlor. Oh, the gems on tables, walls, and floor-- Rare first editions, etchings, and old crockery galore. Why, talk about the Indies and the wealth of Orient things-- They couldn't hold a candle to these quaint and sumptuous things; In such profusion, too--Ah me! how dearly I recall How I have sat and watched 'em and wished I had 'em all. Now, Mr. Stoddard's study is on the second floor, A wee blind dog barks at me as I enter through the door; The Cerberus would fain begrudge what sights it cannot see, The rapture of that visual feast it cannot share with me; A miniature edition this--this most absurd of hounds-- A genuine unique, I'm sure, and one unknown to Lowndes. Books--always books--are piled around; some musty, and all old; Tall, solemn folios such as Lamb declared he loved to hold; Large paper copies with their virgin margins white and wide, And presentation volumes with the author's comps. inside; I break the tenth commandment with a wild impassioned cry: Oh, how came Stoddard by these things? Why Stoddard, and not I? From yonder wall looks Thackeray upon his poet friend, And underneath the genial face appear the lines he penned; And here, gadzooks, ben honge ye prynte of marvaillous renowne Yt shameth Chaucers gallaunt knyghtes in Canterbury towne; And still more books and pictures. I'm dazed, bewildered, vexed; Since I've broke the tenth commandment, why not break the eighth one next? And, furthermore, in confidence inviolate be it said Friend Stoddard owns a lock of hair that grew on Milton's head; Now I have Gladstone axes and a lot of curious things, Such as pimply Dresden teacups and old German wedding-rings; But nothing like that saintly lock have I on wall or shelf, And, being somewhat short of hair, I should like that lock myself. But Stoddard has a soothing way, as though he grieved to see Invidious torments prey upon a nice young chap like me. He waves me to an easy chair and hands me out a weed And pumps me full of that advice he seems to know I need; So sweet the tap of his philosophy and knowledge flows That I can't help wishing that I knew a half what Stoddard knows. And so we sit for hours and hours, praising without restraint The people who are thoroughbreds, and roasting the ones that ain't; Happy, thrice happy, is the man we happen to admire, But wretched, oh, how wretched he that hath provoked our ire; For I speak emphatic English when I once get fairly r'iled, And Stoddard's wrath's an Ossa upon a Pelion piled. Out yonder, in the alcove, a lady sits and darns, And interjects remarks that always serve to spice our yarns; She's Mrs. Stoddard; there's a dame that's truly to my heart: A tiny little woman, but so quaint, and good, and smart That, if you asked me to suggest which one I should prefer Of all the Stoddard treasures, I should promptly mention her. O dear old man, how I should like to be with you this night, Down in your home in Fifteenth street, where all is snug and bright; Where the shaggy little Cerberus dreams in its cushioned place, And the books and pictures all around smile in their old friend's face; Where the dainty little sweetheart, whom you still were proud to woo, Charms back the tender memories so dear to her and you.
Eugene Field offers a heartfelt and humorous tribute to his friends Richard Henry Stoddard and his wife Elizabeth. He depicts their New York home as a treasure trove filled with rare books, antique clocks, etchings, and literary artifacts. The speaker can't help but envy all the beautiful items around him — he even humorously suggests he might break the Ten Commandments just to possess them — yet ultimately, he confesses that the true gem of the house is Mrs. Stoddard herself. This poem celebrates friendship, admiration, and the special joy of spending an evening with those who share your passions.
Line-by-line
When I am in New York, I like to drop around at night, / To visit with my honest, genial friends, the Stoddards hight;
The first thing you discover, as you maunder through the hall, / Is a curious little clock upon a bracket on the wall;
But in the parlor. Oh, the gems on tables, walls, and floor-- / Rare first editions, etchings, and old crockery galore.
Now, Mr. Stoddard's study is on the second floor, / A wee blind dog barks at me as I enter through the door;
Books--always books--are piled around; some musty, and all old; / Tall, solemn folios such as Lamb declared he loved to hold;
From yonder wall looks Thackeray upon his poet friend, / And underneath the genial face appear the lines he penned;
And, furthermore, in confidence inviolate be it said / Friend Stoddard owns a lock of hair that grew on Milton's head;
But Stoddard has a soothing way, as though he grieved to see / Invidious torments prey upon a nice young chap like me.
And so we sit for hours and hours, praising without restraint / The people who are thoroughbreds, and roasting the ones that ain't;
Out yonder, in the alcove, a lady sits and darns, / And interjects remarks that always serve to spice our yarns;
O dear old man, how I should like to be with you this night, / Down in your home in Fifteenth street, where all is snug and bright;
Tone & mood
Warm, funny, and genuinely affectionate. Field embodies the envious yet good-hearted guest, maintaining a light-hearted humor throughout — poking fun at commandments, wishing for Milton's hair, and joking about stealing. Despite the jokes, there's a deep admiration for Stoddard as a collector, thinker, and friend. The poem concludes with a sense of quiet longing, adding emotional depth that belies its playful exterior.
Symbols & metaphors
- The clock in the hallway — The clock, created by Stoddard's father, symbolizes inherited value and the passage of time. It's the first item that Field desires, indicating that everything in this house holds personal significance, not just financial value.
- The blind dog (Cerberus) — The small blind dog guarding the study is a humorous twist on the mythological Cerberus. It watches over a room filled with visual treasures it will never see, highlighting the notion that access to beauty and knowledge is a privilege — something Field knows he’s fortunate to experience.
- Milton's lock of hair — A tangible piece of a great poet, the lock of hair reflects the Victorian desire to connect with literary history. For Field, it's the object of envy — not due to its monetary worth, but because it links its owner directly to brilliance.
- The books — Books show up in nearly every stanza and serve as the main symbol of the poem: they represent intellectual life, the bond between readers, and a unique type of wealth that isn’t counted in dollars. Their 'musty' and 'old' qualities make them even more appealing, not less.
- Mrs. Stoddard in the alcove — Sitting quietly away from the men’s conversation but still influencing it with her comments, Mrs. Stoddard emerges as the poem’s ultimate and most valuable 'treasure.' She embodies the human warmth that gives significance to all the objects — without her, the house would merely be a museum.
- The Ten Commandments (eighth and tenth) — Field's jokes about breaking the commandments against coveting and stealing create a recurring comic theme that reflects his growing desire. By the time he gets to the eighth commandment, the joke has intensified, revealing an important truth: having great collections can create a moral dilemma for those who appreciate beautiful things.
Historical context
Eugene Field wrote this poem to honor Richard Henry Stoddard (1825–1903), a highly regarded American literary figure from the nineteenth century. Stoddard was not only a poet and critic but also an editor who spent many years at the heart of New York's literary scene. His home on Fifteenth Street served as a true gathering spot for writers and collectors. His wife, Elizabeth Barstow Stoddard, was an accomplished novelist and poet in her own right, although Field primarily portrays her as the heart of the home in this piece. Based in Chicago as a columnist for the Chicago Morning News, Field was somewhat of an outsider to the New York literary scene, yet he maintained strong connections through friendships like this one. This poem is part of a tradition of verse tributes to literary friends that flourished during the Victorian era, a time when poets often addressed one another in print. Known for his humor and passion for books and collecting, Field's envy expressed in this poem feels very much in line with his character.
FAQ
Richard Henry Stoddard was a prominent American poet and literary critic based in New York. His wife, Elizabeth Barstow Stoddard, was also a talented novelist and poet. Their home served as a hub for writers, and Field was a true friend of the family. The poem pays tribute to real individuals rather than fictional characters.
The tenth commandment in the Bible is 'thou shalt not covet' — which means you shouldn't have an intense desire for things that belong to others. Field turns this into a joke: he's so taken aback by Stoddard's impressive collection of books and antiques that he can't help but covet them, which means he's technically sinning. He then jokes about shifting to the eighth commandment (thou shalt not steal), suggesting he might simply take what he wants.
Cerberus is the three-headed dog from Greek mythology tasked with guarding the entrance to the underworld. Field humorously applies this name to Stoddard's small blind dog. The dog barks at him when he enters the study, acting like a guardian, but it's so tiny that it can't even see the treasures it's meant to protect. The joke lies in the stark contrast between the majestic mythological name and the absurd little dog.
William Thomas Lowndes put together *The Bibliographer's Manual of English Literature*, a well-known list of rare and notable books from the nineteenth century. Field humorously remarks that Stoddard's dog is 'a genuine unique... unknown to Lowndes' — suggesting it's such a rare find that even the esteemed cataloguer of rarities missed it. This is a bibliophile's inside joke, revealing the kind of circle Field and Stoddard associated with.
William Makepeace Thackeray was a prominent Victorian novelist best known for *Vanity Fair*. A portrait of him adorned Stoddard's wall, complete with an inscription that indicates Stoddard's ties to the upper echelons of the Anglo-American literary scene. Thackeray visited the United States in the 1850s and socialized in the same circles as Stoddard.
In Greek mythology, the Giants attempted to climb to Mount Olympus by piling two mountains on top of each other: Mount Ossa over Mount Pelion. Field uses this imagery to illustrate Stoddard's anger as an immense force built upon another immense force. This classical metaphor conveys that when Stoddard's wrath is stirred, it's truly formidable.
Both, genuinely. The jokes about wanting and stealing, the mock-medieval spelling, the absurd dog — these are all funny. But the admiration for Stoddard's wisdom and conversation is sincere, and the final stanza, where Field reflects on those evenings with a sense of yearning, carries a quiet sadness. Field was skilled at blending humor with true emotion, and this poem showcases that talent well.
John Milton is regarded as one of the greatest poets in the English language, best known for *Paradise Lost*. During the Victorian era, people often collected physical mementos from famous individuals—like locks of hair, handwritten notes, and personal belongings. Having a lock of Milton's hair was like possessing a piece of literary history. Field, who was experiencing baldness himself ('being somewhat short of hair'), layers a self-deprecating joke about his own appearance on top of his literary envy.