From "HOME LIFE OF GREAT AUTHORS." Copyright, 1886, A. C.
McClurg & Co.
The poet Whittier always calls to mind the prophet-bards of the olden
time. There is much of the old Semetic fire about him, and ethical and
religious subjects seem to occupy his entire mind. Like his own
Tauler, he walks abroad, constantly
"Pondering the solemn Miracle of Life;
As one who, wandering in a starless night,
Feels momently the jar of unseen waves,
And hears the thunder of an unknown sea
Breaking along an unimagined shore."
His poems are so thoroughly imbued with this religious spirit that
they seem to us almost like the sacred writings of the different times
and nations of the world. They come to the lips upon all occasions of
deep feeling almost as naturally as the Scriptures do. They are
current coin with reformers the world over. They are the Alpha and
Omega of deep, strong religious faith. Whoever would best express his
entire confidence in the triumph of the right, and his reliance upon
God's power against the devices of men, finds the words of Whittier
upon his lips; and to those who mourn and seek for consolation, how
naturally and involuntarily come back lines from his poems they have
long treasured, but which perhaps never had a personal application
until now! To the wronged, the down-trodden, and the suffering they
appeal as strongly as the Psalms of David. He is the great High Priest
of Literature. But few priests at any time have had such an audience
and such influence as he. The moral and religious value of his work
can scarcely be overstated. Who can ever estimate the power which his
strong words have had throughout his whole career in freeing the minds
of other millions from the shackles of unworthy old beliefs? His blows
have been strong, steady, persistent. He has never had the fear of man
before his eyes. No man has done more for freedom, fellowship and
character in religion than he. Hypocrisy and falsehood and cant have
been his dearest foes, and he has ridden at them early and late with
his lance poised and his steed at full tilt. Indeed, for a Quaker, Mr.
Whittier must be said to have a great deal of the martial spirit. The
fiery, fighting zeal of the old reformers is in his blood. You can
imagine him as upon occasion enjoying the imprecatory Psalms. In his
anti-slavery poems there is a depth of passionate earnestness which
shows that he could have gone to the stake for his opinions had he
lived in an earlier age than ours. That he did risk his life for them,
even in our own day, is well known. During the intense heat of the
anti-slavery conflict he was mobbed once and again by excited crowds;
but he was not to be intimidated by all the powers of evil, and
continued to speak his strong words and to sing his inspiring songs,
whether men would hear or whether they would forbear. And those Voices
of Freedom, whatever may be thought of them by mere critics and
litterateurs, will outlast any poems of their day, and sound "down the
ringing grooves of Time" when much that is now honored has been
forgotten. He will be known as the Poet of a great Cause, the Bard of
Freedom, as long as the great anti-slavery conflict is remembered. He
is a part, and an important part, of the history of his country, a
central figure in the battalions of the brave. Those wild, stirring
bugle-calls of his cheered the little army, and held it together many
a time when the cause was only a forlorn hope, and they came with
their stern defiance into the camp of the enemy with such masterful
power that some gallant enemies deserted to his side. They were afraid
to be found fighting against God, as Whittier had convinced them they
were doing. There is the roll of drums and the clash of spears in
these stirring strains; there are echoes from Thermopylae and
Marathon, and the breath of the old Greek heroes is in the air; there
is a hint of the old Border battle-cries from Scotland's hills and
tarns; from Jura's rocky wall we can catch the cheers of Tell; and the
voice of Cromwell can often be distinguished in the strain.
There is also the sweep of the winds through the pine woods, and the
mountain blasts of New England, and the strong, fresh breath of the
salt sea; all tonic influences, in short, which braced up the minds of
the men of those days to a fixed and heroic purpose, from which they
never receded until their end was achieved. It has become the fashion
in these days of dilettanteism to say that earnestness and moral
purpose have no place in poetry, and small critics have arisen who
claim that Mr. Whittier has been spoiled as a poet by his moral
teachings. To these critics it is only necessary to point to the
estimation in which Mr. Whittier's poetry is held by the world, and to
the daily widening of his popularity among scholars and men of
letters, as well as among the people, to teach them that this ruined
poetry is likely to live when all the merely pretty poetry they so
much admire is forgotten forever. The small poets who are afraid of
touching a moral question for fear of ruining their poems would do
well to compare Poe, who is the leader of their school and its best
exponent, with Mr. Whittier, and to ask themselves which is the more
likely to survive the test of time. Let them also ponder the words of
Principal Shairp, one of the finest critics of the day, when he says
of the true mission of the poet, that "it is to awaken men to the
divine side of things; to bear witness to the beauty that clothes the
outer world, the nobility that lies hid, often obscured, in human
souls; to call forth sympathy for neglected truths, for noble and
oppressed persons, for down-trodden causes; and to make men feel that
through all outward beauty and all pure inward affection God himself
is addressing them." They would do well also to ponder the words of
Ruskin, who believes that only in as far as it has a distinct moral
purpose is a literary work of value to the world.