Summary: Perhaps the definitive biography of Paul Laurence Dunbar, one of the first African writers to achieve fame for his poetry and other writings.

On the sesquicentennial of the birth of Paul Laurence Dunbar (b. 1872), Princeton University published this extensively researched biography of a man who, arguably was one of the first great African-American poets and writers. Born of former slaves, including an alcoholic father who soon divorced his mother Mathilda, he was able to enroll in Dayton’s top high school when few African-Americans achieved more than an eighth grade education. A classmate of Orville Wright, being educated in a classically-oriented curriculum, he began writing, teaming up on several publishing efforts with Wright.

Dunbar gained the attention of influential men like James Whitcomb Riley and Frederick Douglas early on, giving him connections, the opportunities to read his poetry, and reviewing his books. This was a mixed blessing. Fellow Ohioan William Dean Howells praised an early collection of his poetry, bringing him wider notice of the literary public but also imposing the first of the “cages” Jarrett depicts that would trouble his brief, yet brilliant career.

Dialect poetry. Howells especially praised his dialect poetry, often around scenes of southern life pre- and post-Emancipation in the language and idioms people supposed Blacks to use. Throughout his career Dunbar composed poems both in formal English and dialect, the latter to satisfy the demand of the public. This also represented a larger struggle against the racial stereotypes that both shaped public taste and yet Dunbar strove to transcend. He wanted to be known simply as a great poet, not as a Black poet.

Poverty. While publishing his first collections and trying to cultivate connections who would help publicize his work, Dunbar struggled with lowly jobs such as an elevator operator in Dayton, earning a meager $4 a week while trying to help his mother. Poverty would be a cage against which he would struggle, shaping his efforts both in writing prodigiously for papers, periodicals, several musicals, one of the early Black librettists, as well as his book publishing efforts. This also necessitated relentless travel to readings, all while working at the Library of Congress, efforts detrimental to his health.

Alcoholism. Like his father, Dunbar drank increasingly throughout his life. On the one hand, it seemed to facilitate his composing, as when he turned out a school song for Tuskegee Institute on short notice and, increasingly hampered his readings when he turned up drunk. It also released violent tendencies exacerbating problems in an already troubled marriage.

A difficult marriage. Fellow writer Alice Ruth Moore came to his notice in a magazine article and they began writing, developing a deepening bond long before they met. At this time, as throughout his life, Dunbar had flirtations (and perhaps more) with a number of other woman. For this reason, she was slow to engage, and then to set a date for a wedding. Neither her parents nor Mathilda would give the couple their blessing (and Mathilda would occupy an unhealthy place in their eventual marriage). Jarrett covers at length Dunbar’s rape of Alice (when inebriated) during their engagement. Apparently she had physical injuries requiring medical attention and leave from work. It nearly broke the engagement. After several years of marriage, there was another violent incident, leading to permanent separation (though not divorce) during which she refused to respond to his attempts to apologize and reconcile. Dunbar, in declining health, purchased a home in Dayton. living with his mother.

Tuberculosis. Through most of his adult life, Dunbar was in frail health, frequently laid low by “colds” that signaled something more. Eventually, it became clear he was sick with what was then called “consumption” and is now known as tuberculosis. During his life, before the age of antibiotics, there wasn’t a cure. Dunbar even rationalized drinking as curative. A trip to Colorado brought a remission, but after his break with Alice, his condition worsened. All he could do was read and write. The end came in February of 1906, when he was but 33 years of age. He was buried in a different part of the same cemetery where his father was buried.

Jarrett not only covers the “cages” of Dunbar’s life but also how the caged bird sang. He traces his literary career, citing a number of poems. He traces Dunbar’s transition to writing several moderately successful novels as well as the previously mentioned musical collaborations. One wonders what Dunbar would have done had he lived longer or not faced the constraints he had. Yet were these constraints the very thing that drove and inspired Dunbar?

As a fellow Ohioan, I knew of Dunbar but welcome what is probably the definitive biography on Dunbar. Jarrett confirmed to me the extent of Dunbar’s greatness. He also confirmed me in his recognition of his and my favorite Dunbar poem, “We Wear the Mask,” and arguably one of his greatest, with which I will close:

  We wear the mask that grins and lies,
  It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
  This debt we pay to human guile;
  With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
  And mouth with myriad subtleties.

  Why should the world be over-wise,
  In counting all our tears and sighs?
  Nay, let them only see us, while
  We wear the mask.

  We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
  To thee from tortured souls arise.
  We sing, but oh the clay is vile
  Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
  But let the world dream otherwise,
  We wear the mask!

Paul Laurence. Dunbar, “We Wear the Mask.” from The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar. (New York: Dodd, Mead and Company, ) via Poetry Foundation ( )