Stephen’s mother, Mary Helen Peck, was the daughter of Dr. George Peck, once editor of The Christian Advocate, and was the niece of Bishop Peck. A woman of peculiar gifts, she was a writer on many subjects, was much in demand as a public speaker, especially by the Methodist women’s societies of the Church, to which she gave a very active leadership; and in her hobby, the making of wax figures, she displayed her artistic talents. The cares of raising a family of fourteen children seemed to weigh lightly upon her shoulders. In fact, so unconventional were her housekeeping habits that when she came under that scrutiny which the ladies of the congregation sometimes delight in lavishing upon a minister’s wife, she suffered much open criticism and was finally informed that she ought to stay at home and take care of her large family, instead of making so many speeches.
A Methodist Home
Of those fourteen children, the one, besides Stephen, giving by far the most promise was Agnes Crane, who with one of her brothers attended the Centenary Collegiate Institute at Hackettstown, N. J. She was an artist of skill (we have seen some of her drawings), could sing well and write poetry or prose, serious or comic. Once she wrote a pseudo-oratorio, “Jonah,” that added much to the mirth of her friends. She used to say of herself: “Mother has hope that her ugly duckling may turn out a swan.” Her face was as solemn as that of anyone who ever lived; but her alert mind, her spirit of fun, and her radiant personality made her most companionable. And she was Stephen Crane’s good angel, brightening his boyhood as an older sister can sometimes do.
Her most intimate friend in school days at C. C. I. was Miss Josephine Baldwin, now on the editorial staff of the Methodist Sunday school publications. Miss Baldwin cherishes many memories of the boy Stephen and his family, and especially of their camping days in the woods of Mongaup Valley, near Port Jervis, N. Y. Here Stephen’s career was nearly terminated at the age of ten when he was bitten by a snake. Only the promptest medical aid pulled him through, when all thought he must surely die.
The shack which the Cranes built was whimsically called “Saints’ Rest,” and was usually overcrowded by so large a family. Agnes slept directly under the hammock that nightly held the slumbering Stephen. One night the hammock broke and Stephen landed in full length on top of his sister. Luckily for her, he was slight in weight, but still she bemoaned the misfortune that “his bones were not sufficiently upholstered to make it anything but an unpleasant experience.”
Into the fatherless home, whence other brothers and sisters had been called away by death, came the heavy sorrow of Agnes’ death in 1884, and Stephen, then a lad of thirteen, lost from his life another sustaining, guiding hand. When he entered Pennington Seminary, over which his father had once presided, the reduction in tuition, allowed him as a minister’s son, was not sufficient to make both ends meet financially, so that he was obliged to Work during his vacations. His mother, discerning his talent for writing, secured for him a commission as correspondent of the New York Tribune from Asbury Park and Ocean Grove, which she had held herself in former summers. This newspaper reporting won for him his first great literary friend, Hamlin Garland, and helped toward his college preparation which finally admitted him to Lafayette College. From there after a short stay he migrated to Syracuse University. At Syracuse he continued to write for the New York Tribune, adding also the Detroit Free Press and the Syracuse Daily News correspondence.
Syracuse Days
W. H. Van Benschoten, Dr. Bertrand M. Tipple and the Rev. E. H. Carr were students at Syracuse when Crane was an undergraduate there and remember his personality distinctly. Selecting his own course from the subjects he felt he needed most, he was classed as a special student. His fellows, however, regarded him as a freshman. At Lafayette he had been initiated into the Delta Upsilon fraternity, and accordingly at Syracuse made D. U. his home. One day the steward of the club-house, a senior, shouted forth: “I want a freeshie to turn grindstone for the kitchen knives. Come on, Crane.” Whereupon he retorted, quite red in the face, that he never had and never would turn grindstone for anybody.
His room in the D. U. house, adorned with many college banners, was the scene of animated conversations and great discussions. Dr. Bertrand M. Tipple also lived in the same “frat.” house. He confesses that none of them at that time ever guessed Crane’s genius. He was different, to be sure; always more or less revolutionary in his attitude toward college life, in his methods of study, in his somewhat heterodox ideas on most questions. And neither students nor faculty understood him. But whatever unpopularity this might have produced was greatly mitigated by the fact that he had a generous capacity for friendship among those whom he chose as his friends, and also that he was catcher on the Varsity baseball nine, on which team “Bert” Tipple played first base. Crane back of the bat always “froze on to the ball,” as baseballese hath it, even though it came with such force as to make his slight figure seem to rebound with the impact. In the preface to posthumous editions of The Red Badge of Courage he is quoted as having said that in college he was more interested in baseball than in the work of the classroom. Perhaps that partly explains the brevity of his career in Syracuse.
Newspaper Experiences
Leaving college, he soon became engrossed in newspaper work in New York. His duties as reporter brought him in touch with the picaresque side of city life. Out of this period of his work came his first novel, Maggie, a Girl of the Streets, and a small volume of somewhat advanced verse, and eventually also The Red Badge of Courage. This last gave him instant fame in America and later a still greater appreciation in England than in his own country. It also led to his engagement as a war correspondent in Cuba and in the Graeco-Turkish War. His first journey to Cuba was with a filibustering expedition which gave him the background for his story Flanigan. On their way home the ship was wrecked off the coast of Florida and The Open Boat presents his vivid description of two frightful days at sea in a dory, ending tragically with the death of one of the crew as, thoroughly exhausted, they all landed upon the beach in an angry surf. That adventure laid the foundation for his bad health in subsequent years. The tale is regarded by some critics as his very best work; it is the title story of one of his collections of short stories. His adventures as journalist in the Graeco-Turkish War inspired the writing of Death and the Child, which has vied with The Open Boat for first place among his shorter stories. The Spanish-American War, to which he went as newspaper correspondent, produced his Wounds in the Rain, probably the finest piece of literature that came out of that conflict. His last work was done in England, the Whilomville stories, certain contributions to various periodicals, and a historical series upon the world’s great battles. His health was so steadily failing, however, that he repaired to Dover for a stay by the sea; and thence later to Badenweiler, Baden, in the Black Forest, where on June 5, 1900, he died at the age of twenty-nine.
Those who knew him best, not only his fellows in college and newspaper work, but also that intimate group of great writers who frequented his home near London, among them Wells, Conrad and Henry James, found in him a certain companionableness and a great capacity for friendship; and they learned to love him enthusiastically. Some of them also felt that the poor boy had somehow lost his way in life. Lacking those moral qualities necessary to sustain a great career, and lavishly squandering his physical resources, never overabundant in that frail form, he never attained that reach in his life and his work which was promised in the days of his first success. But in his best work, meager as it was in quantity, he left a priceless heritage to American letters, and in the two decades since his untimely death the appreciation of his name and fame has been increasing, rather than diminishing.
From: The Bookseller, July 1900, p.69
Obituary (The Bookseller, July 1900)
Stephen Crane, the brilliant young novelist and newspaper man, died in Baden-Weiler, in the Black Forest, Germany, June 5, where he had gone in search of health. He first attracted attention through his novel, The Red Badge of Cour
age. His later works were not so successful. He was sent abroad to report the Graeco-Turkish war for a London paper, and later was engaged by New York papers to report the war in Cuba. During the latter engagement a shipwreck and other exposures resulted in the illness that caused his death at the early age of twenty-eight years. He was born in Newark, N. J. His father, Rev. Dr. J. T. Crane, was a Methodist minister. The body was brought to this country and funeral services were held in New York City.
From: The Lafayette Weekly, V. XXVI, No. 30, June 8, 1900, p.249
STEPHEN CRANE DEAD. (The Lafayette Weekly)
We clip the following from The Philadelphia Press:
“Badenweiler, Baden, June 5. — Stephen Crane, the American author and war correspondent, died here to-day, aged 30 years.”
Crane’s Career.
Stephen Crane was regarded as one of the most promising of the younger lights in literature. His genius was remarkably precocious, as he entered journalism at 16, and made a notable impression with his novel, “The Red Badge of Courage,” in 1895, when only 24. He was born in Newark, N. J., November 1, 1871, of English ancestry, the first Stephen Crane having come over in 1635 with the company that planted the first English colony in New Jersey, at Elizabethtown. He descended on both sides from a distinguished line of soldiers and divines, his father, the late Rev. Dr. Jonathan T. Crane, president of Pennington Seminary, being a preacher of unusual wit and elegance, while his mother was a daughter of the well-known Methodist clergyman, Rev. Dr. George T. Peck, at one time editor of the official organ of the Methodist Church, The Christian Advocate.
Young Crane received his education at Lafayette College and Syracuse University, leaving, however, without a degree and without much of a record for scholarship. Instead of books, he studied men and things, and all through his college days was contributing sketches to New York and Detroit papers. His first introduction to public notice came through The Philadelphia Press, which, in 1895, accepted from the New York syndicate for which he was doing hack work, a short serial story of some 20,000 words. This was the afterward famous ‘‘ Red Badge of Courage.’’ When half the instalments of the story had appeared, The Press published a brief editorial paragraph drawing attention to its power and originality, and, armed with this, the young author presented himself and his story to Appleton & Co., of New York, and found in them a ready publisher.
The success of the book was instantaneous. The American edition appeared in October, 1895, and was followed by an English edition in January, 1896, which effectually disposes of the story that England “discovered” Crane before America. “Maggie, A Girl of the Streets,” “The Black Riders, and Other Lines” (poems), “George’s Mother,” “The Little Regiment,” “The Third Violet,” “The Open Boat,” “Active Service,” and “The Eternal Patience” followed in quick succession, and English critics had already begun to rank their young writer with Tolstoi and Zola.
Mr Crane made a brilliant name for himself as a war correspondent also. He was with the armies of the Greco-Turkish War of 1897, and, while on his way to Cuba, in the same year, was shipwrecked and obliged to live for some time in an open boat until rescued. His American home was at Hartwood, N.Y., but he took up his residence in England about a year ago.
From: The Review of Reviews, V. XV, No. 6, June 1897, p.753
YOUNG MR. STEPHEN CRANE. (The Review of Reviews, V. XV, No. 6, June 1897)
Mr. Stephen Crane has been heard of in various exciting connections lately. After a narrow escape from drowning, while on his way to Cuba, — turned into “ copy “ for the June Scribner’s, while the London weeklies were printing obituaries of him and quarreling with their contemporaries on this side as to who really “ discovered “ him, — he started toward Crete as a war correspondent for a famous journal; the results of the latter trip are not as yet, but now we have a “ realistic” picture of some real New York artists—” Wrinkles,” “ Grief,” “ Penny,” et al. — and a real model, affectionately termed, “ Splutter,” who make their coffee on a gas stove, balanced on two bundles of kindling, which are balanced on a chair, which is balanced on a trunk — all because the rubber tube of the gas stove is too short — and who talk in real Bohemian slang, terming each other “ dubs “ and “dudes “ as terms of reproach, and “Indians” when speaking in brotherly affection and comradeship. One of this artistic company falls in love, and such is his modesty that his idol is forced to give him not only three violets, at separate times, but to get thoroughly out of patience with him before he can dream of the possibility of her returning his affection.
From: The Critic, No. 733, March 7, 1896 p.163
The Author of “The Red Badge”. (The Critic, No. 733, March 7, 1896)
Not many weeks ago, a young man walked into the private office of Mr. Ripley Hitchcock at the Messrs. Appleton’s, bearing a letter of introduction from a well-known author. The letter explained that the young man was Mr. Stephen Crane, and that he would like to find a publisher for some short stories that he had with him. Mr. Hitchcock looked over the stories and expressed his regret that there were not enough of them to make a book. “If you had a long story, one that would make a book by itself,” he said, “we should be very glad to publish it.” Then Mr. Crane modestly suggested that he had a fairly long story that had been published by a syndicate of newspapers and might be worth reprinting in book-form; it was a story of war, and had attracted some attention when it appeared serially. Mr. Hitchcock asked to see it, and he had no sooner read it than he decided to publish it. His decision was a wise one, for it was “The Red Badge of Courage.” Few books by an American author have attracted more attention than has this, not only here, but in England, and Mr. Crane has started out on his literary career with flattering prospects.
“The Red Badge of Courage” was written when Mr. Crane was between twenty-one and twenty-two years of age, and is a remarkable performance when one considers that he had had no personal experience of war. When asked where he got his minute knowledge of battle scenes and sensations, he replied that he drew upon his imagination. He had talked to old soldiers, but they had never told him just the things he wanted to know about. They would describe the position of the troops, and tell how this regiment marched up here while another one marched down there; but as for their sensations in the fight, they seemed to have forgotten them. And yet old soldiers who have read Mr. Crane’s story say that he has painted a most realistic picture. He is now twenty-four years of age, and has published but three books. The first one, “Maggie: A Girl of the Streets,” published at his own expense and over a pen-name, had virtually no circulation, but made its author known to Mr. W. D. Howells and other men-of-letters. Just before the last holidays, Mr. Crane published a volume of “Lines” called “The Black Riders.” This book will not add to his reputation. It is intended for poetry, but it falls far short of its intention. At the same time there are a few thoughts among the “Lines,” and that is something to be thankful for.
Mr. Crane did some journalistic hack work at sixteen, and at eighteen, for the first time, tried his hand at fiction, writing sketches that appeared in the New York Tribune’s Sunday edition. At twenty he began writing “Maggie” and finished it after he was twenty-one. Later in the same year he began “The Red Badge of Courage,” and finished it some months after his twenty-second birthday. “The Black Riders” was written in the same year. During the next twelvemonth, Mr. Crane travelled for the Bacheller Syndicate, devoting his time to that concern, and also writing stories for English magazines. During the past winter he has written a novel of art-student life in New York, which will be published in book-form by the Messrs. Appleton, and will probably be published serially in a magazine as well. Mr. Crane is at present at work upon a novelette for McClure’s called ‘‘ The Little Regiment.” This, he tells us, will be his last story dealing with battle. In a letter to a correspondent in New York, he says:—”When I look back on this array it appears that I have worked, but as a matter of truth I a
m very lazy, hating work and only taking up a pen when circumstances drive me. I live at Hartwood, N. Y., very quietly and alone, mostly. And,” he adds, “I think a good saddle-horse is the one blessing of life.”
According to an article by Mr. J. N. Hilliard, recently printed in the Rochester, Union and Advertiser, Mr. Crane comes of a family of clergymen and soldiers. The first Stephen Crane in America came from England to Massachusetts in 1635; his sons settled in other parts of the country. The subject of this sketch was born in New York State. He went to Lafayette College for a while, and also to Syracuse University, but he did not graduate from either of these seats of learning. He had no taste for study, and preferred baseball to books; yet it is of this young writer that the never gushing Atlantic Monthly says, in speaking of “The Red Badge of Courage”:—” The original power of the book is great enough to set a new fashion in literature.”
At the present writing Mr. Crane is in New York. His home, however, is in the country, among the hills of Sullivan County, and there he lives a healthy out-of-doors life, spending most of his time on horseback. He has, we hear, just signed an agreement with Mr. McClure to write for McClure’s Magazine on a salary. This is a comfortable arrangement, but it is not always the best thing for an author, particularly a young one. Mr. Crane has made a splendid beginning, but he has not learned all there is to know of the art of writing. We have no quarrel with his style, but we have with his grammar. Among other slips we find “a little ways,” “a thick woods,” “he could not flee, no more than,” etc., “the majesty of he who,” “whom he knew to be him,” “they looked to be dumped out,” “he looked to be much harrassed,” “ there was, apparently, no considered loopholes,” “set upon it was the dark and hard lines.” Some of these may be mere typographical errors; one that looks to be of this class is “filled with profane illusions to generals.”
Complete Works of Stephen Crane Page 186
