On October 6, 1897, Paul Laurence Dunbar arrived in Washington, D. C., where he would soon begin working at the Library of Congress. He was 25 years old and engaged to Alice Ruth Moore, a school teacher in Brooklyn. Steady income from his new job made it more feasible for Paul and Alice to get married.
Dear Little Wife-to-be: I arrived all safe last night. I was a little bit blue, but I knew in my heart that any sacrifice of inclination was for your dear sake and tended to our future happiness, and this was a consolation to me. At intervals all the way here I gazed at the picture of your dear face which I carried in my pocket. You do not know, little one, how I long for you and the time when you will be all and indeed my own.
Paul Laurence Dunbar to Alice Ruth Moore, October 7, 1897. Paul Laurence Dunbar Papers, Ohio History Connection (Microfilm edition, Roll 5).
Paul had previously worked as an elevator operator in Dayton, earning only $4 per week. His salary at the Library of Congress was $720 per year (or about $13.85 a week).
Paul Dunbar is now assured all freedom from anxiety regarding his means of livelihood while cultivating his muse. The government has taken him under its protecting wing and by giving him a place in the congressional library will enable him to polish that talent as a versifier.
"Dunbar's Good Luck." The Syracuse Courier (Syracuse, New York). October 7, 1897. Page 4.
Despite the additional income, Paul was not happy in his job and did not plan to stay long at the Library of Congress. He felt confined at his workplace and longed for more freedom.
I have had to lay down my letter for a long while as I have been very busy for the past hour. I am alone in my stack now and so have much time to myself, to read and to write. Of course, I like this immensely; but I shall not hold this place longer than a year unless they raise my salary, but I have great hopes that this will be done.
Paul Laurence Dunbar to Alice Ruth Moore, no date [December 1897]. Paul Laurence Dunbar Papers, Ohio History Connection (Microfilm edition, Roll 5).
This morning I have had a perfect fit of almost hysterical nervousness. It seemed that I could not stay at my work. But I have stuck it out and it is now 10 minutes to twelve. Maybe a walk at noon will do me good.
Paul Laurence Dunbar to Alice Ruth Moore, January 12, 1898. Paul Laurence Dunbar Papers, Ohio History Connection (Microfilm edition, Roll 8).
I want to drop you a line this morning before I settle down to work. It is such a beautiful day that I am wild to be out. You cannot imagine how this confinement here works on me.
Paul Laurence Dunbar to Alice Ruth Moore, January 18, 1898. Paul Laurence Dunbar Papers, Ohio History Connection (Microfilm edition, Roll 8).
How I hate to think of you drudging away there in dreary old Brooklyn when you might be much better employed in making our little nest beautiful while I did all the drudging for you. I think I shall not be so revolted as at times I am at the monotony of my work, when you come to me. For to know that I am working for your happiness and pleasure will sweeten and lighten my labor.
Paul Laurence Dunbar to Alice Ruth Moore, January 19, 1898. Paul Laurence Dunbar Papers, Ohio History Connection (Microfilm edition, Roll 8).
I would come down to see you, but it wouldn't look well to go out of town when I am on sick leave. You know dear, for our sakes, it won't do for me to get fired. I do not feel though that I can hold the place much longer. I want a larger freedom and I want you, my darling, my wife.
Paul Laurence Dunbar to Alice Ruth Moore, February 27, 1898. Paul Laurence Dunbar Papers, Ohio History Connection (Microfilm edition, Roll 8).
Years later, Alice described how Paul's feelings of confinement at the library inspired one of his most famous poems.
A poet is a poet because he understands; because he is born with a divine kinship with all things, and he is a poet in direct ratio to his power of sympathy. Something of this, emanating from his own experience the poet shows in his poem "Sympathy."
The iron grating of the book stacks in the Library of Congress suggested to him the bars of the bird's cage. June and July days are hot. All out of doors called and the trees of the shaded streets of Washington were tantalizingly suggestive of his beloved streams and fields. The torrid sun poured its rays down into the courtyard of the library and heated the iron grilling of the book stacks until they were like prison bars in more senses than one. The dry dust of the dry books (ironic incongruity! -- a poet shut up in an iron cage with medical works), rasped sharply in his hot throat, and he understood how the bird felt when it beat its wings against the cage.
"The Poet and His Song," by Alice Moore Dunbar. Published by Reverdy C. Ransom, reprinted from The A. M. E. Church Review (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania). October 1914. Page 13.
I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore, --
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings --
I know why the caged bird sings!
Excerpt from "Sympathy" by Paul Laurence Dunbar. Published in Lyrics of the Hearthside (1899).