FRANCIS CARLIN, mystical poet, who went into seclusion
in 1923 when his verse began to win him a measure of fame,
died yesterday in St. Francis Hospital, the Bronx, after
a brief illness. He would have become 63 years old on
April 7.
Born in Bay Shore, L.I., the son of Mr and Mrs Mark
MacDonnell, Mr Carlin attended parochial school in
Norwalk, Conn; but left before finishing the eighth
grade. His baptismal name was James Francis Carlin
MacDonnell, but he always wrote under the name
Francis Carlin, in honour of his grandfather, a
weaver in county Tyrone, Ireland, who won local
fame as an impromtu versifier.
While holding a position with R.H. Macy & Co;
he wrote and studied intensively after the day's
work. He was a floorwalker in the store when
his first book of poetry, My Ireland, was
published in 1918, and was superintendent of
the fourth floor when A cairn of stars was published
two years later.
As his literary reputation grew, he became the
friend of Christopher Morley, Padraic Colum, T.A. Daly,
the Rev. Leonard Feeny, S.J. and other poets. In
1923, when he left his accustomed haunts, he was
regarded by literary critics as one of the most
promising Irish-American poets.
Mr Carlin quit his job and dropped out of sight
because he feared literary teas, speaking invitations
and association with literary figures of note would
spoil his poetic gift.
"I always remember," he said later, "what Daly
once said to me, "The thrush sings alone on the
highest twig of the tree." So I withdrew from it all.
I was utterly convinced I had to work alone. No
unique work can be done without a sense of isolation."
On 6 December, 1939, Mr Carlin was found going
from one employment agency to another on Sixth Avenue,
seeking a job either as a dishwasher or night watchman.
He explained he had been forced to end his sixteen
years of seclusion in furnished rooms in Queens,
the Bronx and Manhattan, because his savings were
gone.
A debt of œ110, part of it back rent and part
storage charges for forty boxes of manuscripts and
books, had so weighed on his mind that he decided
he could not continue in peace to study of the
structure of the Bible that had occupied him during
his seclusion. He had hoped to bring out a monumental
publication on the Bible.
"If I succeed in getting a $10 or $12-a-week,"
Mr Carlin said "I will be able to finish the work
I believe I was put here to do. I don't intend to
renege on poetry. I have many poems in my mind
and ten on paper, which need considerable editing."
During his seclusion he had also made a study
of botany and had spent a year in Ireland.
In recent years he published many poems. His
works appeared in several anthologies, and he had
contributed to America, The Sign, Voices, The
Commonweal [Commonwealth?], Ave Maria and other
magazines. He was an academy member of the Catholic
Poetry Society of America.
In American Profile, a textbook published last
year under the auspices of the Catholic University
of America, Mr Carlin is described as "a lonely,
almost legendary figure," who chose to isolate
himself from the seeking of praise. The book thus
evaluates his works:
"His poetry is magical with old memories. His
thoughts seem to hover over places and faces that
have brought him peace through fugitive years.
His metrical style is always melodious, the
phrasing intricate yet never obscure.
"Almost every stanza is shot through with
fragrance as of a mind imbued with restless hungers
yet tamed to the discipline of prayer. His latest
poems surpass in spiritual maturity A cairn of stars
and My Ireland, the books upon which his earlier
reputation was based."
The sad music of his more popular verse is
embodied in the final stanza of his Beyond Rathkelly:
As I went over the Far Hill,
Just beyond Rathkelly-
Och, to be on the Far Hill
With the hopes that I had then!
As I went over the Far Hill
I wished for little Nellie,
And if a star were falling now
I'd wish for her again.
Mr Carlin was the brother of John L. MacDonnell,
formerly an assistant district attorney when Thomas
E. Dewey was District Attorney.
The New York Times, 12-3-45.
