‘The Village Blacksmith’: Heroism in Daily Life

"A Blacksmith's Shop," 1771, by Joseph Wright of Derby. Public Domain

Under a spreading chestnut-tree ⁠The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands, And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp and black, and long; His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school Look in at the open door; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys; He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughter’s voice, Singing in the village choir, And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother’s voice Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling—rejoicing—sorrowing, Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night’s repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught! Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought.

As students traipsing through the viridian Irish countryside or marching along the cobblestone streets of Italian cities, we chanted, “Under a spreading chestnut tree, the village smithy stands.” Pulled from many different educational backgrounds to share a semester abroad during college, we somehow found in the recesses of our memory an unexpected common link.

It was Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Village Blacksmith” and how proudly our small, merry troop of American students recited it to pass the time on our long excursions. To anyone who overheard us and didn’t understand English, it likely seemed quite odd.

Published in 1840, the poem became a staple of required reading and often memorization in American schools for many years. The blacksmith who stands as the subject of the poem embodies a quiet, everyday heroism. In fact, Longfellow’s readers would soon experience a dramatic call to heroism as the country neared the outbreak of the Civil War.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1868, photographed by Julia Margaret Cameron. Public Domain

However, the type of heroism exemplified in the poem doesn’t necessarily propel us into battle; it can be enacted under any circumstances. What matters is that we lead a purposeful life as the blacksmith does in the poem. Finding this purpose is what enables us to lead a life well-lived, such that we arrive at each night with the sense that we’ve earned our repose.

The Village Smithy

In the beginning of the poem, Longfellow spends considerable time describing the physical appearance of the blacksmith, for his physical strength parallels his spiritual fortitude.

“He earns whate’er he can,” Longfellow writes, indicating that the blacksmith utilizes his talents and capabilities to their utmost to provide for his family and to ensure that he leaves no debt unpaid. He works continuously, such that the swinging of his sledge serves as a steady rhythm in the life of the village.

The blacksmith’s strength is a source of wonder to the children, who aren’t scared away by the impressive display of force from the smithy but instead are drawn to it. It isn’t brute force but the blacksmith’s care for his craft that drives the smithy, and this draws the children to the forge, fearless of the sparks.

Along with the dignity he derives from his work, the blacksmith finds the source of his joy in worship and family. His heart is able to rejoice in spite of the sorrow that has touched his life, and his strength and gentleness are evinced in the single gesture of wiping the tear from his eye as he’s reminded of his wife who passed away. In his earthly life, he’s driven onward by hope in the life to come and his faith that only there will we have eternal rest and music undying.

First page of the original manuscript for "The Village Blacksmith" Public Domain

The Flaming Forge of Life

Many analyses of the poem seem to summarize the main idea as the notion that we control our own destiny, but if the focus of the poem is to be on autonomy at all, it’s in the sense that the blacksmith crafts a life well-lived one day at a time. He actively works toward something each day but allows himself the appropriate, well-earned rest from his toil. By all appearances, he leads a quiet, unextraordinary existence, but Longfellow paints him as heroic, and so he is.

The blacksmith isn’t without his share of suffering, but he bears his burdens well, shouldering his hardship as a natural part of his lot on earth and profiting from it through growth in endurance and fortitude.

The lesson that the blacksmith teaches us isn’t merely that we can forge our own futures if only we exert enough willpower over them. Instead, the blacksmith teaches us to keep careful watch over our conduct and shape our characters with painstaking care, as you would on an anvil.

The image implies a forceful action, for it’s only with difficulty and continued, rigorous discipline that we arrive at the virtue exemplified by the blacksmith. However, by embracing this task, as well as the other burdens life allots us, we’re able to live a purposeful and fulfilling life that brings joy to others and to ourselves.

Would you like to see other kinds of arts and culture articles? Please email us your story ideas or feedback at [email protected]