Marblehead_. I have read it with great interest and think good use has
been made of the abundant material. No town in Essex County has a
record more honorable than Marblehead; no one has done more to develop
the industrial interests of our New England seaboard, and certainly
none have given such evidence of self-sacrificing patriotism. I am
glad the story of it has been at last told, and told so well. I have
now no doubt that thy version of Skipper Ireson’s ride is the correct
one. My verse was founded solely on a fragment of rhyme which I heard
from one of my early schoolmates, a native of Marblehead.
I supposed the story to which it referred dated back at least a
century. I knew nothing of the participators, and the narrative of the
ballad was pure fancy. I am glad for the sake of truth and justice
that the real facts are given in thy book. I certainly would not
knowingly do injustice to any one, dead or living.
I am very truly thy friend,
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
Footnote 8:
The recollection of some descendants of a Hessian deserter in the
Revolutionary war bearing the name of Muller doubtless suggested the
somewhat infelicitous title of a New England idyl. The poem had no real
foundation in fact, though a hint of it may have been found in recalling
an incident, trivial in itself, of a journey on the picturesque Maine
seaboard with my sister some years before it was written. We had stopped
to rest our tired horse under the shade of an apple-tree, and refresh
him with water from a little brook which rippled through the stone wall
across the road. A very beautiful young girl in scantest summer attire
was at work in the hay-field, and as we talked with her we noticed that
she strove to hide her bare feet by raking hay over them, blushing as
she did so, through the tan of her cheek and neck.—WHITTIER.
Footnote 9:
Though not published until 1847, several lines indicate that the poem
was written not long after Randolph’s death in 1833. In a letter
published in July, 1833, Whittier says: “In the last hour of his
[Randolph’s] existence, when his soul was struggling from its broken
tenement, his latest effort was the confirmation of this generous act of
a former period [the manumission of his slaves]. Light rest the turf
upon him, beneath his patrimonial oaks! The prayers of many hearts made
happy by his benevolence shall linger over his grave and bless it.”
Footnote 10:
Written on reading an account of the proceedings of the citizens of
Norfolk, Va., in reference to George Latimer, the alleged fugitive
slave, who was seized in Boston without warrant at the request of James
B. Grey, of Norfolk, claiming to be his master. The case caused great
excitement North and South, and led to the presentation of a petition to
Congress, signed by more than fifty thousand citizens of Massachusetts,
calling for such laws and proposed amendments to the Constitution as
should relieve the Commonwealth from all further participation in the
crime of oppression. George Latimer himself was finally given free
papers for the sum of four hundred dollars.—WHITTIER.
Footnote 11:
Written on hearing that the Anti-Slavery Resolves of Stephen C. Phillips
had been rejected by the Whig Convention in Faneuil Hall, in
1846.—WHITTIER.
Footnote 12:
This poem was the outcome of the surprise and grief and forecast of evil
consequences which I felt on reading the seventh of March speech of
Daniel Webster in support of the “compromise,” and the Fugitive Slave
Law. No partisan or personal enmity dictated it. On the contrary my
admiration of the splendid personality and intellectual power of the
great Senator was never stronger than when I laid down his speech, and,
in one of the saddest moments of my life, penned my protest. I saw, as I
wrote, with painful clearness its sure results,—the Slave Power arrogant
and defiant, strengthened and encouraged to carry out its scheme for the
extension of its baleful system, or the dissolution of the Union, the
guaranties of personal liberty in the free States broken down, and the
whole country made the hunting-ground of slave-catchers. In the horror
of such a vision, so soon fearfully fulfilled, if one spoke at all, he
could only speak in tones of stern and sorrowful rebuke.
But death softens all resentments, and the consciousness of a common
inheritance of frailty and weakness modifies the severity of judgment.
Years after, in _The Lost Occasion_, I gave utterance to an almost
universal regret that the great statesman did not live to see the flag
which he loved trampled under the feet of Slavery, and, in view of this
desecration, make his last days glorious in defence of “Liberty and
Union, one and inseparable.”—WHITTIER.
Footnote 13:
See footnote to _Ichabod_.
Footnote 14:
This poem was written in strict conformity to the account of the
incident as I had it from respectable and trustworthy sources. It has
since been the subject of a good deal of conflicting testimony, and the
story was probably incorrect in some of its details. It is admitted by
all that Barbara Frietchie was no myth, but a worthy and highly esteemed
gentlewoman, intensely loyal and a hater of the Slavery Rebellion,
holding her Union flag sacred and keeping it with her Bible; that when
the Confederates halted before her house, and entered her dooryard, she
denounced them in vigorous language, shook her cane in their faces, and
drove them out; and when General Burnside’s troops followed close upon
Jackson’s, she waved her flag and cheered them. It is stated that May
Quantrell, a brave and loyal lady in another part of the city, did wave
her flag in sight of the Confederates. It is possible that there has
been a blending of the two incidents.—WHITTIER.
Footnote 15:
On hearing the bells ring on the passage of the constitutional amendment
abolishing slavery. The resolution was adopted by Congress, January 31,
1865. The ratification by the requisite number of States was announced
December 18, 1865. [The suggestion came to the poet as he sat in the
Friends’ Meeting-house in Amesbury, where he was present at the regular
Fifth-day meeting. All sat in silence, but on his return to his home, he
recited a portion of the poem, not yet committed to paper, to his
housemates in the garden room. “It wrote itself, or rather sang itself,
while the bells rang,” he wrote to Lucy Larcom.]
Footnote 16:
Recited by one of the little group of relations, who stood by the poet’s
bedside, as the last moment of his life approached.
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. P. 71, changed "Like an Indian idol glum and trim" to "Like an Indian
idol glum and grim".
2. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in
spelling.
3. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.
4. Re-indexed footnotes using numbers and collected together at the end
of the last chapter.
5. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.