Wreck of the Hesperus

Hello, you have A Way with Words.

Hi.

Hello, who’s this?

This is Tim calling from Houston, Texas.

Well, hello, Tim. Welcome to the show.

Thank you.

What can we do for you?

Well, I was calling about an expression that my mom and grandma used, and it’s the wreck of the Hesperus. I’ve never heard any other family use it, and it was used in context when things were messy or screwed up or dirty. You look like the wreck of the Hesperus. And the only thing I can find on it is the Longfellow point. It doesn’t seem to have a lot to do with that connotation.

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, yeah, it does.

It does, Tim. Have you read that poem?

I sure have.

It’s not a very long poem.

Yeah, it’s about a young lady that goes out with the sea captain, and the boat goes down, and she gets tied to the mast, and she ends up praying to calm the waters. I think it’s a really compelling poem. You know, I mean, it’s kind of, I don’t know, it’s got this rhythm to it, you know. At daybreak on the bleak sea beach, a fisherman stood aghast to see the form of a maiden fair lashed close to a drifting mast. Because she gets tied to the mast of this ship in a shipwreck, and everybody dies, and she sort of washes up on the shore and looks pretty worse for the wear.

Yeah.

But she’s not dead, right?

Oh, yeah.

Oh, she is.

There’s a lot of Christ imagery in it.

Yeah, there’s a lot of that. And I mean, it talks about the salt sea was frozen on her breast, the salt tears in her eyes. And he saw her hair like the brown seaweed on the billows fall and rise. I mean, it’s a pretty terrible picture. And that’s what that expression comes from. I believe that poem was written by Longfellow in the 1840s. And, you know, I guess it was sort of like the perfect storm of its day, this poem.

So you would learn that in school. That’s why a lot of people might know that, right?

Well, yeah, that’s one of the reasons.

I think shipwrecks tend to capture our imagination, don’t they?

I mean, the imagery in this poem is pretty compelling. There was a movie, I think, involving Cecil B. DeMille, an adaptation of this poem. And in the late 19th century, there was a cantata for solo and choir that was performed around the country based on this poem. But I think it is something that you’d probably hear a generation or two ago. I mean, I certainly don’t hear people using it today. But the comparison to something that’s in disarray, that it’s messy, is mostly about the wreck and not about the romanticism or the girl tied to the mast, right?

I think just the whole horrible picture.

I mean, when I read that poem, it sort of, you know, makes my heart race and makes my blood run cold.

It didn’t do that for you?

Yeah, I don’t know that I connected with it in the same way as it sounds like you have.

Well, Tim, I don’t get out much, so that’s the problem there.

But I know that on Google Books, there’s a terrific version of the poem with these great illustrations.

Yes, I was just looking at it.

You were?

Yeah, it’s a spectacular photograph.

I mean, what do you call those, ink drawings or something?

Yeah, or lithographs or something.

Yeah.

So that was your heartbeat I heard pounding as you were reading some of the stances?

No, it’s a fantastic story.

It’s dark and sad.

And, yeah, as you said, the salt sea was frozen on her breast, the salt tears in her eyes.

Yeah, it’s very moving.

Yeah.

So I’m glad that you brought this to the table for discussion, Tim.

I would love to introduce more people to that poem.

I think it’s pretty powerful.

Well, thank you, Grant and Martha, and thank you for sharing your resonance with that.

Thank you for calling and sharing yours, and call us again sometime with some more Southern expressions.

All right. Bye-bye.

Okay.

Take care.

Bye-bye.

Bye-bye.

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