Introduction
[These notes supplement our description of the holograph
copy book available
from Carpe Libris.] Samuel Adams Wiggin was born in 1832 and followed
a military career until Vice President Andrew Johnson became president
after the assisination of President Lincoln in 1865.
Wiggin's mother, Eliza Wendell, was related to Oliver Wendell Holmes.
Sometime in his 30s , Wiggin began writing poetry,
and his first poems were published in The Portsmouth (N.H.) Journal
in 1861. By 1880s he had enough to fill several notebooks, and he
paid to have a book published in 1886. The book was quickly put
together - at least one poem appears twice in different forms; and
an analysis of the differences between the manuscript copy in his
notebook and what appears in the book is very interesting.
Here is one of our favorite poems from the book, "Sprigs
of Acacia," and five other poems found only in the holograph
fair copy. We've noted the difference between the published
version of "A La Bismarck" and the handwritten one at the end of
the poem. Below the poems, we reproduce the autobiographical
introduction provided by Wiggin as a Preface to his book.
The first poem unique to the manuscript notebook is
"Katie Did". We believe that
Katie (Kate or Katherine) was his wife, but it is certain
that this is not Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin (the author of
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm).
A La Bismarck - by Samuel Wiggin
Oh ! I love the prettiest girl in town !
Her hair and eyes are a Bismarck brown,
And her dimpled face is a Bismarck too !
Bismarck the shape of her dainty shoe !
On her gay turban, of a Bismarck hue,
There roosteth a Bismarck cockatoo;
And the tiniest hand, within my own,
Is snugly encased in Bismarck brown.
A snow-white coat, with a Bismarck border,
Bound to fit like a "special order;"
With enormous buttons of Bismarck brown,
And trimmed at the neck with a goosie's down.
I looked in her eyes, of a Bismarck tint,
That gaze on me with a Bismarck squint;
I squeeze the hand of the Bismarck brown,
And vow I'm the nobbiest cove in town.
My arm doth encircle the Bismarck waist;
I snatch from her Bismarck lips a taste;
And the matchless bust, if I may be bold,
Is tinted "La Bismarck," - so I'm told.
And, when I proposed to the Bismarck girl,
She tossed the head with a single curl,
While the softest hand, of a Bismarck brown,
Cosily nestled within my own.
O, I swear by the girl in Bismarck brown,
That I'm the luckiest boy in town ;
I'm the Bismarck beau of a Bismarck belle,
A Bismarck moustached - bona fide swell !
Differences with the manuscript copy
line 2: eyes and hair instead of [hair and eyes]
line 12: goose's instead of [goosie's]
line 13: look instead of [looked]
line 19: While the instead of [and the]
Analysis of Differences Between Holograph & Book
Detailed tables of contents of both the holograph and the published book
are here. The book contains
217
poems. The
holograph contains a total of 31
poems, 5 of which
were unpublished in the book:
It’s not clear why they were unpublished; perhaps they were too personal.
In all between the holograph and the published poems from the holograph
we note that:
- 8 have different titles
- 19 have different wording
- 5 are unpublished
- 2 poems are repeated in the book (at least in part)
The Katie-Did - by Samuel Wiggin [unpublished]
There's a nice little birdie singing away,
Katie did, Katie did, all the bright day.
Nobody knows what it was that she did.
Bet I can soon tell you, what do you bid?
She had for a husband a whip-poor-will sweet
Who always when hungry was dying to eat.
When he came to his dinner, "who cooked it" he'd cry.
"Katie-did, sir" says she and it's all in your eye.
If it was very nice he would chirpingly say
"Katie-did made it, my birdie so gay."
And the silly young thing, she loved him so dear,
That she'd nestle up to him with never a fear.
Katie did this and Mrs Katie did that.
She mended his breeches, and slicked up his hat.
Katie did up his shirts, and she mended his hose.
And she coaxed up his mustache quite over his nose.
Katie did coo him and bill him so nice,
That Whip-poor-will sweet was snug as a mice.
If you asked him who loved him and kept him so gay,
He would chirp Katie-did all the long day.
Katie-did, Katie-did, all the bright day.
Katie shall sing thro all her life's way.
For her Whip-poor-will loves her you bet high on that.
If he don't you can buy me a gay little hat.
[This poem is only known from the holograph notebook
of Samuel Wiggin]
To Harry - by Samuel Wiggin [unpublished]
I know a nice young man who tells.
The biggest whoppers in one breath.
He Thinks that if he sees a mouse.
Five hundred rats run by in stealth.
He sees five million flies around.
If one poor insect nips his nose.
And one dear pretty girlish face.
Into a thousand beauties grows.
He blushes if Miss Hattie winks.
He’s red all over in a trice.
Poor little fellow what a goose
To flame because she looks so nice.
I know a dark haired loving lass
Who dotes on Harry in her heart.
She waits and hopes with ardent love
And sighs in tears when he departs.
One day he asked her for her hand
She trembling quivered with delight
You love one true you naughty man.
Yes Marm says he the other night.
Oh dear says she he’s crazy sure
I ask him if he loves me right
And all he says O bashful swain.
Is yes Marm yes the other nigh.
Go way says she you red haired cuss
You red checked darling naughty man
Twas some one else you loved I know.
The other night you black and tan.
No Marm says he I love but you
I dreamed of you the other night
No other gal’s my own love true
Upon my word and honor bright.
Then blushing like a rose he stood.
And let her hug him most to death.
O mysays he ten million stars.
I see for sure, and lost his breath
He saw two lustrous eyes like stars.
That flashed the lovelights to his heart.
And out of those two shining orbs.
He saw ten million at the start.
Now Harry dear take my advice
Don’t blush so red and tell such lies.
When Haddie kisses don’t you see.
Ten million stars within two eyes.
Because when married if arrives.
A red cheeked baby at your home.
I fear you’ll say in great alarm.
Oh my ten thousand babies come.
[This poem is only known from the holograph notebook
of Samuel Wiggin]
To Charlie - by Samuel Wiggin [unpublished]
Dear child of Earth if human love.
And tender care could save from death.
Thou had’st not joined the hosts above.
God gave: He took they fleeting breath
Of such as thou throng Heavens gate
His lambs safe folded to his breast.
In flowery fields of beauty wait
Free from all pain and sorrow rest.
Fond parents wipe they tears away
Babie’s not lost but gone before
trust they dear Lord in endless day
Thru will meet again to part no more.
[This poem is only known from the holograph notebook
of Samuel Wiggin]
Lottie - by Samuel Wiggin [unpublished]
In the dingy old house on the hill.
My golden tressed lassie abides
Underneath her white forehead so fair
Eyes blue as the deep ocean tides
So radiant the glow on her lip
That the rose on her cheek grows pale
And the long fringed eyelids they droop
Over glorious stars like a veil
As the fairy-like figure floats by.
I look for a gossamer wing.
When she warbles I look for a bird
So sweetly the harmonies ring.
I gaze as she sways in the dances.
A spirit she glideth along.
White robed like our angel of Glory.
And pure as the seraphs of song.
Do you know I love her so dearly.
I live only when she is nigh.
That fair golden head on my shoulder.
I’d breath out my life’s latest sigh.
O that dingy old house on the hill.
Containeth my joy and my pride.
On some lovely bright morning in spring
I will shine with a peerless bride.
[This poem is only known from the holograph notebook
of Samuel Wiggin]
The Widow - by Samuel Wiggin [unpublished]
She smiled such a soft seductive smile
Her ripe red lips would a saint beguile
The rays of her sappire stars of night
Filled all my spirit with strange delight
She folded the wondrous snowflake hands
Gleaming with gold and diamond bands
Love slily hidden in shining curls
While her mouth flashed out a string of pearls
She curtained the silk fringed eyes of blue
Confessed the soft impeachment true.
“I love but you sweet heart below.”
Then lips met lips of scarlet glow.
[This poem is only known from the holograph notebook
of Samuel Wiggin]
Preface from Sprigs of Acacia by Samuel Adams Wiggin
The author was born at Portsmouth, N.H., May 27, 1832, of old New England
stock, his father’s ancestor being one of the first settlers of Dover,
N. H., and an Indian fighter, captain of the fort on Garrison Hill.
Samuel P. Wiggin, the author’s father, was a local preacher for nearly
forty years, of the M. E. Church in Portsmouth, and one of the original
founders of the church in that place; and was, also, for several terms,
an Overseer of the Poor, and a Selectman, and served several terms as a
Representative in the New Hampshire Legislature.
His mother, Eliza Wendell, belonged to one of the oldest families in Portsmouth,
N.H.
Oliver Wendell Holmes and the late Wendell Phillips descended from the
same ancestor, originally from Albany, N. Y., one of the first settlers
of that ancient town.
A brother of the poet’s grandfather Wendell married Jane Whittier,
of Philadelphia, an aunt of the good, gray poet, John G. Whittier.
The poetic genius of the author was not developed until thirty years of
age; and his first poems appeared in The Portsmouth (N. H.) Journal in 1861,
at the breaking out of the Rebellion. He enlisted in 1862 in the 32nd Massachusetts
volunteers; was sent to the front, and served until ordered for clerical
duty in the office of Major Gen. H. W. Halleck, then commanding the Armies
of the United States, who finally discharged him from the Army, on account
of his disability for field service.
In 1863, he re enlisted (sic) in the Veteran Reserve Corps in Boston, and
returned to the Army, and was put on duty at Washington as Clerk in the
Quarter-master-General’s office, under Gen. M. C. Meigs.
When Vice-President Andrew Johnson became President at the death of President
Abraham Lincoln, the author was appointed Executive Clerk by President Johnson,
and remained as such in the White House during Mr. Johnson’s administration.
For three months the author was retained in office by President Grant, and
then generously and nobly appointed by him a clerk in the Treasury Department,
where he continued during the eight years of that Administration.
In 1882, the author was appointed, at the request of Hon. S. Z. Bowman,
M. C. of Boston, Mass., a clerk in the Pension Office, in Washington, where
he is still retained.
A large number of the poems contained in this book were composed in the “Poet’s
Corner” of the White House, over the East Room, in the clerical office
of the President, and were published from time to time in several of the
Washington papers, Zion’s Herald, of Boston, N. Y. Christian Advocate,
Portsmouth (N. H.) Journal, and others.
In submitting his work of a life time to the public, the author would say
he received his education partly at the High School in Portsmouth, N. H.,
and was also for four years a schoolmate of Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Ed. Atlantic
Monthly, in the classical school of S. M. DeMeritt, and is closely connected
by marriage with that brilliant author, whose grandfather’s brother
was an uncle of the author.
Several of the poems may be found in the Book of Poets of Portsmouth,
numbering forty authors, published several years ago.
That his book may cheer and comfort some, and prove a blessing,
humble though its source, to other’s is the heartfelt prayer of
THE AUTHOR.
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