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reference was to the rendition of Thomas Sims, a fugitive slave, during the progress of whose case, at the Boston Court-house, the doors were protected by chains. In July, 1854, Whittier was invited by Ralph Waldo Emerson and others, to attend a meeting of the friends of freedom in Boston, to form a new party organization, from men from both political folds; this being one of the meetings which led to the formation of the Republican party. His reply, addressed to Emerson ( Amesbury, 3rd 7th month ), was as follows:-- The circular signed by thyself and others, inviting me to meet you at Boston on the 7th inst., has just reached me. If I am able to visit Boston on that day, I shall be glad to comply with the invitation. Your movement I regard as every way timely and expedient. I am quite sure good will come of it, in some way. I have been for some time past engaged in efforts tending to the same object,--the consolidation of the antislavery sentiment of the North. For mysel
aerial creatures just stooping down to our dull earth, to take a view of the beautiful creations of the painter's genius. I love to watch their airy motions, notice the dark brilliancy of their fine eyes, and observe the delicate flush stealing over their cheeks, but, trust me, my heart is untouched,--cold and motionless as a Jutland lake lighted up by the moonshine. I always did love a pretty girl. Heaven grant there is no harm in it! . .. Mr. Garrison will deliver an address on the Fourth of July. He goes to see his Dulcinea every other night almost, but is fearful of being shipped off, after all, by her. Lord help the poor fellow, if it happens so. I like my business very well; but hang me if I like the people here. I am acquainted with a few girls, and have no wish to be so with many. Pickard's Whittier, I. 93-4. Mr. Pickard however assures us that there are many similar passages in Whittier's early letters; and this boyish semi-sentimentalism, even if it reaches the conf
July 13th (search for this): chapter 8
ch tended to the elevation of the labouring class. This I know well, for I lent a hand, when living in the next town, to an agitation for the Ten Hour Bill at Amesbury, and there are various references to it in his brief letters to me. A natural politician of the higher sort, he rejoiced in an effort to bring such a bill Vefore the state legislature, where it finally triumphed. Thus I find a letter, probably written in 1848, but imperfectly dated, as his letters often were: Amesbury, 13th, 7th mo. My dear Higginson: Thy letter was clearly to the purpose and was read at the Levee, and will be published this week in the Villager: -Thou will see by the Villager of last week what we are doing about the Ten Hour Law. That must be a point in our elections this fall — I think we can carry it through the next legislature. I hope thou will be able to go to the Dist. Convention at Lowell tomorrow. Our del. is instructed to go for thee as one of the delegates to Pittsburg. Don't ref
e sin and striving cease, And flows forever through heaven's green expansions The river of Thy peace. There, from the music round about me stealing, I fain would learn the new and holy song, And find at last, beneath Thy trees of healing, The life for which I long. 1882. Works, II. 333. The following simple and touching picture of his funeral is from the historical address on Whittier by his friend Robert S. Rantoul. I attended his funeral. The day was ideal — a cloudless September sky above, a wealth of autumn beauty all about. No word was uttered in speech or song that day but it was apt, spontaneous, sincere. I think I never joined in obsequies more fit. Their simplicity was absolute. The poet Stedman spoke as few men can, and with a grace and aptness which, perfect as they were, yet seemed unstudied. It was hard to say whether deep feeling or critical characterisation were the leading quality of his words. And the Hutchinsons sang Lay him low as if it had be
September 3rd (search for this): chapter 14
uld have been most in sympathy. ... Unless you wish heirloom to be substituted for freehold, I will retain the latter as the original. Whittier was taken with his last illness while visiting at the house of his friend, Miss Sarah A. Gove of Hampton Falls, N. H., seven miles from Amesbury. Miss Gove was the daughter of an old friend; of that saintly woman whom we associate with one of the most spiritual and beautiful of his poems, A Friend's Burial. Fields's Whittier, p. 101. On September 3, he had a slight paralytic stroke which produced a difficulty in taking food or medicine, and it was plain that he could not be removed to Amesbury, where he had always hoped to die. He was conscious to the last, was grateful to every one; and several times said Love to all the world. He died in serene and quiet constancy to that feeling of affection, and had little acute pain. He lay all night in peace, and died in the morning, one of the relatives present reciting softly his poem At
September 15th (search for this): chapter 6
pathy with the slaveholders. . . . But they were all in the dark concerning the manner of his escape; for as the door behind the curtain was known to very few, it remained a mystery to all except the abolitionists. Underwood's Whittier, pp. 118-20. Garrison wrote of the Concord mob to his brother-in-law, Sept. 12, 1835, Our brother Thompson had a narrow escape from the mob at Concord, and Whittier was pelted with mud and stones, but he escaped bodily damage. Thompson wrote to Garrison, Sept. 15:-- You would have been delighted to have shared our adventures in Concord (?) on the memorable night of the 4th inst. The mirthful and the melancholy were so strangely and equally blended throughout, that I scarcely know which had the advantage, and certainly could not tell the story of our hairbreadth 'scapes without exciting your risibility. However, my escape from the ignorant and murderous rabble that clamoured and thirsted for my blood was very providential, and I desire to feel
tropic heat; And ever, when a louder blast Shook beam and rafter as it passed, The merrier up its roaring draught The great throat of the chimney laughed; The house-dog on his paws outspread Laid to the fire his drowsy head, The cat's dark silhouette on the wall A couchant tiger's seemed to fall; And, for the winter fireside meet, Between the andirons' straggling feet, The mug of cider simmered slow, The apples sputtered in a row, And, close at hand, the basket stood With nuts from brown October's wood. Here we have, absolutely photographed, the Puritan Colonial interior, as it existed till within the very memory of old men still living. No other book, no other picture preserves it to us; all other books, all other pictures combined, leave us still ignorant of the atmosphere which this one page re-creates for us; it is more imperishable than any interior painted by Gerard Douw. And this picture we owe to a lonely invalid, who painted it in memory of his last household compani
use, coming from every state and territory in the Union. To these were added the names of many private citizens of distinction, such as George Bancroft, Robert C. Winthrop, James G. Blaine, and Frederick Douglass. In that same year (1887) a companion tribute came in more concentrated form across the ocean. In 1887, Mr. George W. Childs, of Philadelphia, generously offered to defray the expense of a Milton memorial window in St. Margaret's Church, London. The offer was accepted, and in October of that year, Archdeacon Frederick W. Farrar wrote to him as follows:-- The Milton window is making good progress. It will be, I hope, magnificently beautiful, and both in colouring and design will be worthy of your munificence, and worthy of the mighty poet to whose memory it will be dedicated. The artists are taking good pains with it. I sent you an outline of the sketch not long ago. Before the end of the year I hope to send you a painting of the complete work. Messrs. Clayton an
At the gray wizard's conjuring book, The fame whereof went far and wide Through all the simple country side; We heard the hawks at twilight play, The boat-horn on Piscataqua, The loon's weird 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 i
ittier, a far more popular candidate, should be tried. The difficulty was that at the next trial, already appointed for November, Whittier would be under the required age, twenty-five. To meet this difficulty, the youth made the following proposal,ears of age. I shall not be twenty-five till the 17th of December. So that I would not be eligible at the next trial in November. This, you will see, gives a different aspect to the whole affair. Perhaps, however, if the contest is prolonged till letter ? Suppose, too, that you nominate in your paper Mr. Cushing without any one-sided convention? After the trial in November, you can then use the arguments in favour of our plan which you propose to do now; and if it suits Mr. C., he can then re found,--but, I understand Mr. Thayer, not with the expectation of his being elected. If I were nominated after the November trial, Mr. Thayer, situated as he and I relatively are, would support the nomination, and let the other candidate go, as
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