V

In the January of 1864 Whittier wrote to M—— C——, a dear Amesbury friend, who was spending a few weeks at Norfolk under the protection of the Union army and doing some work for the soldiers there.

“Thy letter from Norfolk,” he says, “has just reached us, and we [his sister Elizabeth and himself] enjoyed its graphic description of your present locality and prospects.... The weather here is cold again.... Elizabeth is much as usual, unable to write much, so I hold the pen for her. We had a pleasant visit from Bayard Taylor last week. Night before last he sent us a picture he painted in 1857 on the shore of the Arctic Ocean. It is a view of the little church of Vadso, the northernmost Russian settlement.... Who knows but that thee may enter Richmond with the victorious army! Stranger things have happened.”

A penciled line from Elizabeth on the same sheet says:

“M—— dear, a thousand thanks for thy pictures of ‘Virginia life’—I look from thy window on the sunken masts of the poor brave Cumberland. I am so glad you are there. We all are. Tell Colonel F—— [a young Prussian who at thebeginning of the war had enlisted] the doctor and his wife quite forgive his not coming to Amesbury; the doctor hopes—the fatigue of going well over—the Colonel will grow stronger; he seems to feel he had worked too hard.... It was delightful to see our dear old friend Bayard. He will bring his beautiful German wife here before long.... How I wish I could unroof that Norfolk house and see you all; the graceful young adjutant pleases me. Tell Col. F—— I never wondered he could not find time to write. I only wonder he is alive.... It is so good to hear from thee. Keep well—and come home soon.”

To the Col. F—— (afterward General) then at the front the poet wrote:

“We watch with ever wakeful interest the progress of the war. Sometimes we feel discouraged; but the good God sees and knows all and His time is best.... My sister [Elizabeth], Miss B—— [who, later Col. F—— married], and Dr. S—— and family desire to be kindly remembered to thee.”

The mention of Bayard Taylor in these letters recalls Whittier’s poem, “Bayard Taylor,” in which the poet refers to this visit:

“‘And where now, Bayard, will thy footsteps tend?’My sister asked our guest one winter’s day.Smiling, he answered in the Friends’ sweet wayCommon to both: ‘Wherever thou shalt send.’“‘What wouldst thou have me see for thee?’ She laughed,Her dark eyes dancing in the wood-fire’s glow;‘Loffoden isles, the Kilpis, and the lowUnsetting sun on Finmark’s fishing craft.’”

“‘And where now, Bayard, will thy footsteps tend?’My sister asked our guest one winter’s day.Smiling, he answered in the Friends’ sweet wayCommon to both: ‘Wherever thou shalt send.’

“‘And where now, Bayard, will thy footsteps tend?’

My sister asked our guest one winter’s day.

Smiling, he answered in the Friends’ sweet way

Common to both: ‘Wherever thou shalt send.’

“‘What wouldst thou have me see for thee?’ She laughed,Her dark eyes dancing in the wood-fire’s glow;‘Loffoden isles, the Kilpis, and the lowUnsetting sun on Finmark’s fishing craft.’”

“‘What wouldst thou have me see for thee?’ She laughed,

Her dark eyes dancing in the wood-fire’s glow;

‘Loffoden isles, the Kilpis, and the low

Unsetting sun on Finmark’s fishing craft.’”

With abounding faith in the ultimate triumph of right, the poet yet had all the dread of disaster incident to so sensitive an organization. At the defeat at Bull Run he was prostrated.

It is in the major and the minor of his sufferings and his trust that his songs, “In War Time,” were sung. “Luther’s Hymn,” the sombreness of “The Watchers,” the depth of prayer in “Thy Will Be Done”—all show the struggle and sorrow of his spirit. But hope speaks in “The Battle Autumn of 1862,” where he sings:

“Oh, give to us in times like these,The vision of her eyes;And make her fields and fruited treesOur golden prophecies!“Oh, give to us her finer ear!Above this stormy din,We, too, would hear the bells of cheerRing peace and freedom in.”

“Oh, give to us in times like these,The vision of her eyes;And make her fields and fruited treesOur golden prophecies!

“Oh, give to us in times like these,

The vision of her eyes;

And make her fields and fruited trees

Our golden prophecies!

“Oh, give to us her finer ear!Above this stormy din,We, too, would hear the bells of cheerRing peace and freedom in.”

“Oh, give to us her finer ear!

Above this stormy din,

We, too, would hear the bells of cheer

Ring peace and freedom in.”

His “Port Royal” is a burst of joy and triumph, with the song of the freedmen in the minor key, so far are they yet from the reality of the freedom which they have in name. In “Barbara Frietchie” we have not only an inspiring ballad which has flown the wide world over; but we have also a touch of the nobler nature of the South epitomized in the order of Stonewall Jackson; and the poem, in trend if not in speech, is a prophecy of returning loyalty, a prophecy of the day when—not by force, but through love of them—the stars and stripes were to float over North and South alike.

One day during the Civil War, when the poet was at her house, the doctor’s wife said to him:

“Mr. Whittier, what did you mean when you wrote that poem, ‘What of the Day’? You wrote it in 1857, four years before the war. It’s a perfect prophecy of the present time. You remember, it begins:

‘A sound of tumult troubles all the air.’

What did you mean by it?” she repeated.

“I don’t know myself what I meant by it,” he answered her as earnestly as she had spoken; and his look finished what more he would have added—that the poem was, indeed, an inspiration, a real prophecy.

Thus, to the poet who sang a “higher wisdom,” who lived a holier life than words alone of any creed can enjoin, to him in the world’s imperative need of holiness to endure and of inspiration to conquer in the stress and strain of the life of today we turn for glimpses of his inspiration.

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