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Rollins (search for this): chapter 2
reprehensible that they are now difficult to find, and quite banished from orderly households. One of his first attempts in verse was a rhymed catalogue of the books in the family library — a list which begins as follows: The Bible towering o'er all the rest, Of all other books the best. William Penn's laborious writing And a book 'gainst Christians fighting. A book concerning John's Baptism, Elias Smith's Universalism. How Captain Riley and his crew Were on Sahara's desert threw. How Rollins, to obtain the cash, Wrote a dull history of trash. The lives of Franklin and of Penn, Of Fox and Scott, all worthy men. The life of Burroughs, too, I've read, As big a rogue as e'er was made. And Tufts, too, though I will be civil, Worse than an incarnate devil. Now the lives of George Burroughs and Henry Tufts were the Gil Bias and even the Guzman d'alfarache of the New England readers of a hundred years ago; the former having gone through many editions, while the latter — by far t
Christopher Hussey (search for this): chapter 2
Day, even in their own houses. Not only was this petition not granted, but the petitioners were threatened with loss of rights as freemen unless they withdrew their names. Sixteen refused to withdraw them, of whom two, Thomas Whittier and Christopher Hussey, were ancestors of the poet, as was one of the prohibited exhorters, Joseph Peasley. These were temporarily disfranchised, but the name of Thomas Whittier often appears with honour in the town records, even to mentioning the fact that whenernal grandmother, Sarah Greenleaf, about whom he wrote a ballad, and about whose name — translated, as is supposed, from the French Feuillevert — he has written the poem, A name. He was also descended through his maternal grandmother from Christopher Hussey, who had married a daughter of the Rev. Stephen Bachiler, a man of distinguished appearance and character, whose reputation was clouded for two centuries by charges made in his own day, but which now seem to have been dispelled by his desc
Chalkley (search for this): chapter 2
d laughter far away; We fished her little trout-brook, knew What flowers in wood and meadow grew, What sunny hillsides autumn-brown She climbed to shake the ripe nuts down; Saw where in sheltered cove and bay The ducks' black squadron anchored lay, And heard the wild geese calling loud Beneath the gray November cloud. Then, haply with a look more grave And soberer tone, some tale she gave From painful Sewell's ancient tome, Beloved in every Quaker home, Of faith fire-winged by martyrdom, Or Chalkley's Journal, old and quaint,-- Gentlest of skippers, rare sea-saint!-- Or his uncle told of the lore of fields and brooks. Himself to Nature's heart so near That all her voices in his ear Of beast or bird had meanings clear, Like Apollonius of old, Who knew the tales the sparrows told, Or Hermes who interpreted What the sage cranes of Nilus said; A simple, guileless, childlike man, Content to live where life began; Strong only on his native grounds, The little world of sights and sounds Wh
Hermes (search for this): chapter 2
gray November cloud. Then, haply with a look more grave And soberer tone, some tale she gave From painful Sewell's ancient tome, Beloved in every Quaker home, Of faith fire-winged by martyrdom, Or Chalkley's Journal, old and quaint,-- Gentlest of skippers, rare sea-saint!-- Or his uncle told of the lore of fields and brooks. Himself to Nature's heart so near That all her voices in his ear Of beast or bird had meanings clear, Like Apollonius of old, Who knew the tales the sparrows told, Or Hermes who interpreted What the sage cranes of Nilus said; A simple, guileless, childlike man, Content to live where life began; Strong only on his native grounds, The little world of sights and sounds Whose girdle was the parish bounds. He told how teal and loon he shot, And how the eagle's eggs he got, The feats on pond and river done, The prodigies of rod and gun; Till, warming with the tales he told, Forgotten was the outside cold, The bitter wind unheeded blew, From ripened corn the pigeons f
Apollonius (search for this): chapter 2
ed lay, And heard the wild geese calling loud Beneath the gray November cloud. Then, haply with a look more grave And soberer tone, some tale she gave From painful Sewell's ancient tome, Beloved in every Quaker home, Of faith fire-winged by martyrdom, Or Chalkley's Journal, old and quaint,-- Gentlest of skippers, rare sea-saint!-- Or his uncle told of the lore of fields and brooks. Himself to Nature's heart so near That all her voices in his ear Of beast or bird had meanings clear, Like Apollonius of old, Who knew the tales the sparrows told, Or Hermes who interpreted What the sage cranes of Nilus said; A simple, guileless, childlike man, Content to live where life began; Strong only on his native grounds, The little world of sights and sounds Whose girdle was the parish bounds. He told how teal and loon he shot, And how the eagle's eggs he got, The feats on pond and river done, The prodigies of rod and gun; Till, warming with the tales he told, Forgotten was the outside cold, The
1640 AD (search for this): chapter 2
tical passage. Furthermore, he visited Boston in his teens as the guest of Mrs. Nathaniel Greene, one of his Batchelder kindred, there buying his first copy of Shakespeare, and being offered a ticket to the theatre by an accomplished actress, a kindness which he declined, because he had promised his mother to keep away from that fatal peril. He summed up his experience of farming and farmers in this letter to the Essex Agricultural Society, dated 12th mo. 30, 1888. My ancestors since 1640 have been farmers in Essex County. I was early initiated into the mysteries of farming as it was practised seventy years ago, and worked faithfully on the old Haverhill homestead until, at the age of thirty years, I was compelled to leave it, greatly to my regret. Ever since, if I have envied anybody, it has been the hale, strong farmer, who could till his own acres, and if he needed help could afford to hire it, because he was able to lead the work himself. I have lived to see a great and
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (search for this): chapter 2
's poets among English readers, is likely to hear Longfellow ranked at the head, with Whittier as a close secoat Whittier was born within five miles of the old Longfellow homestead, where the grandfather of his brother p quite different modes of rearing and education. Longfellow was the most widely travelled author of the Boston circle, Whittier the least so; Longfellow spoke a variety of languages, Whittier only his own; Longfellow haLongfellow had whatever the American college of his time could give him, Whittier had none of it; Longfellow had the habitsLongfellow had the habits of a man of the world, Whittier those of a recluse; Longfellow touched reform but lightly, Whittier was esseLongfellow touched reform but lightly, Whittier was essentially imbued with it; Longfellow had children and grandchildren, while Whittier led a single life. Yet in cLongfellow had children and grandchildren, while Whittier led a single life. Yet in certain gifts, apart from poetic quality, they were alike; both being modest, serene, unselfish, brave, industrd to cultivation by cultivated parents. Emerson, Longfellow, Holmes, Lowell, were essentially of this class;
December 17th, 1807 AD (search for this): chapter 2
hat the judge's gown. All this type of life he had studied in New England history,--none better,--but what real awe did it impose on him who had learned at his mother's knee to seek the wilderness with William Penn or to ride through the howling mobs with Barclay of Ury? The Quaker tradition, after all, had a Brahminism of its own which Beacon Street in Boston could not rear or Harvard College teach. To this special privilege John Greenleaf Whittier was born in Haverhill, Mass., on Dec. 17, 1807. The founder of the name and family of Whittier in this country, Thomas Whittier, was one of that type of ancestors to which every true American looks back with pride, if he can. Of Huguenot descent, but English training, he sailed from Southampton in 1638, and settled in what was then Salisbury, but is now Amesbury, on Powow River — the poet's swift Powow --a tributary of the Merrimac. He was then eighteen, and was a youth weighing three hundred pounds and of corresponding muscular
January, 1892 AD (search for this): chapter 2
A name. He was also descended through his maternal grandmother from Christopher Hussey, who had married a daughter of the Rev. Stephen Bachiler, a man of distinguished appearance and character, whose reputation was clouded for two centuries by charges made in his own day, but which now seem to have been dispelled by his descendants. See the imputations in Winthrop's Journal, and the final vindication in a paper by Charles E. Batchelder in N. E. Historical and Genealogical Register, January, 1892. Father Bachiler's striking appearance, dark, thin, and straight, black eyebrows, descended to the two men most conspicuous among his posterity, John Greenleaf Whittier and Daniel Webster. The homestead in which Whittier was reared is to this day so sheltered from the world that no neighbour's roof has ever been in sight from it; and Whittier says of it in Snow-bound No church-bell lent its Christian tone To the savage air; no social smoke Curled over woods of snow-hung oak. In a
Joshua Coffin (search for this): chapter 2
characterisation of Burroughs and Tufts that shows him to have read their memoirs. For other books he borrowed what he could find, especially books of tragedy, of which he was always fond; and some were read to him by one of his teachers, Joshua Coffin, afterward a familiar figure for many years to the people of the neighbouring town of Newbury, whose town clerk and historian he wasa man of substantial figure, large head, cordial manners, and one of Garrison's twelve first abolitionists; a re he is celebrated is in that delightful poem, To my old schoolmaster beginning Old friend, kind friend! lightly down Drop time's snowflakes on thy crown! Never be thy shadow less, Never fail thy cheerfulness! Whittier's Works, IV. 73. Coffin, then a young Dartmouth College student, used to read aloud on winter evenings, in the Whittier household, the poems of Burns, explaining the Scotch dialect; and finally lent the book to the boy of fourteen, who had heard it with delight. At a l
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