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diff --git a/29754-h/29754-h.htm b/29754-h/29754-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c38a80b --- /dev/null +++ b/29754-h/29754-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7389 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Whittier-Land: A Handbook of North Essex, by Samuel T. Pickard. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + +.serif{font-family:"Old English Text MT","Times New Roman",Georgia,Serif} + + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1 { text-align: center; line-height: 1.5; clear: both; } + + h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { text-align: center; clear: both; } + + p.title { text-align: center; text-indent: 0; + font-weight: bold; + line-height: 1.4; margin-bottom: 3em; } + + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; padding: 1em; width: 50%; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + + .author {text-align: right; margin-right: 5%; font-variant: small-caps;} + +dd, li {margin-top: 0.50em; margin-bottom: 0; + line-height: 1.2em;} + +ul { list-style-type: none; + position: relative; + margin-right: 15%; + margin-left: 15%; } + +.lsoff { list-style-type: none; } + + ol.toc { /* styling the Table of Contents */ + list-style-type: upper-roman; + position: relative; + margin-right: 15%; + margin-left: 15%; } + +span.tocright { position: absolute; right: 10%;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem .title {margin: 2em 0em 1em 2em; font-weight: bold;} + .poem .titlewd {margin: 2em 0em 1em 4em; font-weight: bold;} + .poem .titlest {margin: 2em 0em 1em 0em; font-weight: bold;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i12 {display: block; margin-left: 12em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i14 {display: block; margin-left: 14em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i16 {display: block; margin-left: 16em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i18 {display: block; margin-left: 18em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i20 {display: block; margin-left: 20em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i-2 {display: block; margin-left: -2em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Whittier-land, by Samuel T. Pickard + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Whittier-land + A Handbook of North Essex + +Author: Samuel T. Pickard + +Release Date: August 22, 2009 [EBook #29754] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITTIER-LAND *** + + + + +Produced by K. Nordquist, Diane Monico, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 424px;"> +<img src="images/image200.jpg" width="424" height="600" alt="(cover)" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>WHITTIER-LAND</h1> + +<p class="title"><i><big>SAMUEL T. PICKARD</big></i></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image201.jpg" width="300" height="259" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="center serif"><big><b>By Samuel T. Pickard</b></big></p> + +<p>WHITTIER-LAND. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.00 +<i>net</i>. Postage 9 cents.</p> + +<p>LIFE AND LETTERS OF JOHN GREENLEAF +WHITTIER. With Portraits and +other Illustrations. 2 vols. crown 8vo, gilt +top, $4.00.</p> + +<p><i>One-Volume Edition</i>. Illustrated. Crown +8vo, $2.50.</p> + +<p class="center">HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Boston and New York</span></p> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>WHITTIER-LAND</h1> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 434px;"> +<a name="frontispiece" id="frontispiece"></a> +<img src="images/image208.jpg" width="434" height="600" alt="JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER +From an ambrotype taken about 1857" title="JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER +From an ambrotype taken about 1857" /> +<span class="caption">JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER<br /> +<small>From an ambrotype taken about 1857</small></span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h1>WHITTIER-LAND<br /></h1> +<div class="serif"> +<h2>A Handbook of North Essex<br /> +<br /></h2></div> +<p class="title">CONTAINING MANY ANECDOTES OF AND POEMS<br /> +BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER<br /> +NEVER BEFORE COLLECTED<br /> +</p> +<p class="title"><small>BY</small><br /> +<br /> +<big>SAMUEL T. PICKARD</big><br /> +<br /> +<small><span class="smcap">Author of "Life and Letters of John Greenleaf Whittier"</span></small><br /> + +<i>ILLUSTRATED WITH MAP AND ENGRAVINGS</i><br /> +</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 104px;"> +<img src="images/image209.png" width="104" height="150" alt="The Riverside Press" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="title"><small>BOSTON AND NEW YORK</small><br /> +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /> +<span class="serif">The Riverside Press Cambridge</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="center"><small> +COPYRIGHT 1904 BY SAMUEL T. PICKARD<br /> +<br /> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br /> +<br /> +<i>Published April 1904</i><br /> +<br /> +EIGHTH IMPRESSION<br /> +</small></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h2> + + +<p>This volume is designed to meet a call from tourists who +are visiting the Whittier shrines at Haverhill and Amesbury +in numbers that are increasing year by year. Besides +describing the ancestral homestead and its surroundings, +and the home at Amesbury, an attempt is made to answer +such questions as naturally arise in regard to the localities +mentioned by Whittier in his ballads of the region. Many +anecdotes of the poet and several poems by him are now +first published. It is with some hesitancy that I have ventured +to add a chapter upon a phase of his character that +has never been adequately presented: I refer to his keen +sense of humor. It will be understood that none of the +impromptu verses I have given to illustrate his playful +moods were intended by him to be seen outside a small +circle of friends and neighbors. This playfulness, however, +was so much a part of his character from boyhood to old +age that I think it deserves some record such as is here +given.</p> + +<p>For those who are interested to inquire to whom refer +passages in such poems as "Memories," "My Playmate," +and "A Sea Dream," I now feel at liberty to give such +information as could not properly be given at the time +when I undertook the biography of the poet.</p> + +<p>If any profit shall be derived from the sale of this book, +it will be devoted to the preservation and care of the +homes here described, which will ever be open to such +visitors as love the memory of Whittier.</p> + +<p class="author">S. T. P.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Whittier Home, Amesbury, Mass.</span>,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">March, 1904.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<ul> +<li class="lsoff"> <span class="tocright"> <small>PAGE</small></span></li> +</ul> +<ol class="toc"> +<li> Haverhill<span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_1">1</a></span></li> + +<li> Amesbury<span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_53">53</a></span></li> + +<li> Whittier's Sense of Humor<span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_105">105</a></span></li> + +<li> Whittier's Uncollected Poems<span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_127">127</a></span></li> + +<li class="lsoff"> Footnotes<span class="tocright"> <a href="#FOOTNOTES">154</a></span></li> + +<li class="lsoff"> Index<span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_155">155</a></span></li> +</ol> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + +<ul> +<li>John Greenleaf Whittier<span class="tocright"> <i><a href="#frontispiece">Frontispiece</a></i></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From an Ambrotype taken about 1857.</small></span></li> + +<li>Map of Whittier-Land<span class="tocright"> <a href="#map">xii</a></span></li> + +<li>Whittier's Birthplace<span class="tocright"> <a href="#whittiers_birthplace">2</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Alfred A. Ordway.</small></span></li> + +<li>River Path, near Haverhill<span class="tocright"> <a href="#river_path">5</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Ordway.</small></span></li> + +<li>Haverhill Academy<span class="tocright"> <a href="#haverhill_academy">6</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by G. W. W. Bartlett.</small></span></li> + +<li>Main Street, Haverhill<span class="tocright"> <a href="#main_st_haverhill">8</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Ordway.</small></span></li> + +<li>Birthplace in Winter<span class="tocright"> <a href="#birthplace_winter">9</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Ordway.</small></span></li> + +<li>Kenoza Lake<span class="tocright"> <a href="#kenoza">10</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Ordway.</small></span></li> + +<li>Fernside Brook, the Stepping-Stones<span class="tocright"> <a href="#fernside_brook">11</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Ordway.</small></span></li> + +<li>The Birthplace, from the Road<span class="tocright"> <a href="#birthplace_from_road">13</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Ordway.</small></span></li> + +<li>"The Haunted Bridge of Country Brook"<span class="tocright"> <a href="#haunted_bridge">15</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by W. L. Bickum.</small></span></li> + +<li>Garden at Birthplace<span class="tocright"> <a href="#garden_at_birthplace">18</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by W. L. Bickum.</small></span></li> + +<li>Snow-Bound Kitchen, Eastern End<span class="tocright"> <a href="#kitchen_in_birthplace">21</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Ordway.</small></span></li> + +<li>Snow-Bound Kitchen, Western End<span class="tocright"> <a href="#western_end_of_kitchen">23</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Ordway.</small></span></li> + +<li>The Whittier Elm<span class="tocright"> <a href="#whittier_elm">29</a></span></li> + +<li>Joshua Coffin, Whittier's First Schoolmaster<span class="tocright"> <a href="#joshua_coffin">31</a></span></li> + +<li>Scene of "In School Days"<span class="tocright"> <a href="#scene_in_school_days">33</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a pencil sketch by W. L. Bickum.</small></span></li> + +<li>Harriet Livermore, "Half-welcome Guest"<span class="tocright"> <a href="#harriet_livermore">41</a></span></li></ul> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span></p> +<ul><li>Scene on Country Brook<span class="tocright"> <a href="#scene_on_country_brook">43</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Ordway.</small></span></li> + +<li>The Sycamores<span class="tocright"> <a href="#sycamores">45</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Ordway.</small></span></li> + +<li>Old Garrison House (Peaslee House)<span class="tocright"> <a href="#old_garrison_house">47</a></span></li> + +<li>Rocks Village and Bridge<span class="tocright"> <a href="#rocks_village">48</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Ordway.</small></span></li> + +<li>River Valley, near Grave of Countess<span class="tocright"> <a href="#river_valley_grave_countess">49</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Ordway.</small></span></li> + +<li>Dr. Elias Weld, the "Wise Old Physician" of Snow-Bound, at the Age of Ninety<span class="tocright"> <a href="#elias_weld">50</a></span></li> + +<li>Curson's Mill, Artichoke River<span class="tocright"> <a href="#cursons_mill">57</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Ordway.</small></span></li> + +<li>Deer Island and Chain Bridge, Home of Mrs. Spofford<span class="tocright"> <a href="#deer_island">59</a></span></li> + +<li>The Whittier Home, Amesbury<span class="tocright"> <a href="#whittier_home_amesbury">61</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Mrs. P. A. Perry.</small></span></li> + +<li>Joseph Sturge, Whittier's English Benefactor<span class="tocright"> <a href="#joseph_sturge">63</a></span></li> + +<li>"Garden Room" Amesbury Home<span class="tocright"> <a href="#garden_room_amesbury">65</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by C. W. Briggs.</small></span></li> + +<li>Mrs. Thomas, to whom "Memories" was Addressed<span class="tocright"> <a href="#mary_emerson_smith_thomas">67</a></span></li> + +<li>Evelina Bray, at the Age of Seventeen<span class="tocright"> <a href="#evelina_bray_17">68</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a miniature by J. S. Porter.</small></span></li> + +<li>Whittier, at the Age of Twenty-two. His earliest portrait<span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_69">69</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a miniature by J. S. Porter.</small></span></li> + +<li>Evelina Bray Downey, at the Age of Eighty<span class="tocright"> <a href="#evelina_bray_downey">71</a></span></li> + +<li>Elizabeth Whittier Pickard<span class="tocright"> <a href="#mrs_pickard">75</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a portrait by Kittell.</small></span></li> + +<li>Scene in Garden, at Whittier's Funeral<span class="tocright"> <a href="#scene_garden_whittiers_funeral">76</a></span></li> + +<li>The Ferry, Salisbury Point, Mouth of Powow<span class="tocright"> <a href="#ferry_salisbury_point">77</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Miss Woodman.</small></span></li> + +<li>Powow River and Po Hill<span class="tocright"> <a href="#powow_river_po_hill">79</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Miss Woodman.</small></span></li> + +<li>Friends' Meeting-House at Amesbury<span class="tocright"> <a href="#friends_meeting-house">80</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Mrs. P. A. Perry.</small></span></li> + +<li>Interior of Friends' Meeting-House<span class="tocright"> <a href="#interior_friends_meeting-house">81</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by G. W. W. Bartlett.</small></span></li> +</ul> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p> +<ul> +<li>Captain's Well<span class="tocright"> <a href="#captains_well">83</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by G. W. W. Bartlett.</small></span></li> + +<li>Whittier Lot, Union Cemetery, Amesbury<span class="tocright"> <a href="#whittier_lot">85</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by W. R. Merryman.</small></span></li> + +<li>The Fountain on Mundy Hill<span class="tocright"> <a href="#fountain_mundy_hill">87</a></span></li> + +<li>Rocky Hill Church<span class="tocright"> <a href="#rocky_hill_church">88</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Miss Woodman.</small></span></li> + +<li>Interior of Rocky Hill Church<span class="tocright"> <a href="#interior_rocky_hill_church">89</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Miss Woodman.</small></span></li> + +<li>Scene of "The Wreck of Rivermouth"<span class="tocright"> <a href="#mouth_hampton_river">90</a></span></li> + +<li>Scene of "The Tent on the Beach"<span class="tocright"> <a href="#salisbury_beach_before_cottages">91</a></span></li> + +<li>Hampton River Marshes, as seen from Whittier's Chamber<span class="tocright"> <a href="#hampton_river_marshes">92</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Greenleaf Whittier Pickard.</small></span></li> + +<li>House of Miss Gove, Hampton Falls, Whittier on the Balcony<span class="tocright"> <a href="#house_miss_gove">93</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph taken a few days before the poet's death, by Greenleaf Whittier Pickard.</small></span></li> + +<li>Chamber in which Whittier Died<span class="tocright"> <a href="#chamber_died">94</a></span></li> + +<li>Amesbury Public Library<span class="tocright"> <a href="#amesbury_library">95</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Gilman P. Smith.</small></span></li> + +<li>Whittier, at the Age of Forty-nine<span class="tocright"> <a href="#whittier_49">97</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a daguerreotype by Thomas E. Boutelle.</small></span></li> + +<li>The Wood Giant, at Sturtevant's, Centre Harbor<span class="tocright"> <a href="#wood_giant">99</a></span></li> + +<li>The Cartland House, Newburyport<span class="tocright"> <a href="#cartland_house">101</a></span></li> + +<li>Whitefield Church and Birthplace of Garrison<span class="tocright"> <a href="#whitefields_church">103</a></span></li> + +<li>Bearcamp House, West Ossipee, N. H.<span class="tocright"> <a href="#bearcamp_house">110</a></span></li> + +<li>Group of Friends at Sturtevant's, Centre Harbor, with Whittier<span class="tocright"> <a href="#group_sturtevants">113</a></span></li> + +<li>Josiah Bartlett Statue, Huntington Square, Amesbury<span class="tocright"> <a href="#josiah_bartlett_statue">123</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><small>From a photograph by Charles W. Briggs.</small></span></li> +</ul> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="map" id="map"></a> +<a href="images/image221.png"> +<img src="images/image220.png" width="600" height="347" alt="MAP OF WHITTIER-LAND + +KEY:— + + +1. The Whittier Birthplace. +2. Joshua Coffin's School, in house now occupied by Thomas Guild. +Scene of poem "To My Old Schoolmaster." +3. Site of District School. Scene of "In School Days." +4. Job's Hill. +5. East Haverhill Church. +6. Cemetery referred to in "The Old Burying Ground." +7. The Sycamores. +8. Ramoth Hill. +9. Hunting Hill. +10. Grave of the Countess. +11. Country Bridge. +12. Site of Thomas Whittier's Log House. +13. Birchy Meadow, where Whittier taught school. +14. Home of Sarah Greenleaf. +15. Home of Dr. Elias Weld and of the Countess, Rocks Village. +16. "Old Garrison," the Peaslee House. +17. Rocks Bridge. +18. Curson's Mill, Artichoke River. +19. Pleasant Valley. +20. The Laurels. +21. Site of "Goody" Martin's House. +22. Whittier Burial Lot, Union Cemetery. +23. Macy House. +24. The Captain's Well. +25. Friends' Meeting-House, Amesbury. +26. Whittier Home, Amesbury. +27. Hawkswood. +28. Deer Island, Chain Bridge, home of Mrs. Spofford. +29. Rocky Hill Church. +30. The Fountain, Mundy Hill. +31. House at Hampton Falls, where Whittier died. +32. Scene of "The Wreck of Rivermouth." +33. Boar's Head. + + +" title="MAP OF WHITTIER-LAND" /> +</a><span class="caption">MAP OF WHITTIER-LAND<br /><br /> + +KEY:—<br /><br /></span></div> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" summary="map"> +<tr><td align="left">1. The Whittier Birthplace.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">2. Joshua Coffin's School, in house now occupied by Thomas Guild. <br /><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Scene of poem "To My Old Schoolmaster."</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">3. Site of District School. Scene of "In School Days."</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">4. Job's Hill.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">5. East Haverhill Church.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">6. Cemetery referred to in "The Old Burying Ground."</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">7. The Sycamores.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">8. Ramoth Hill.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">9. Hunting Hill.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">10. Grave of the Countess.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">11. Country Bridge.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">12. Site of Thomas Whittier's Log House.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">13. Birchy Meadow, where Whittier taught school.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">14. Home of Sarah Greenleaf.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">15. Home of Dr. Elias Weld and of the Countess, Rocks Village.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">16. "Old Garrison," the Peaslee House.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">17. Rocks Bridge.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">18. Curson's Mill, Artichoke River.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">19. Pleasant Valley.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">20. The Laurels.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">21. Site of "Goody" Martin's House.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">22. Whittier Burial Lot, Union Cemetery.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">23. Macy House.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">24. The Captain's Well.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">25. Friends' Meeting-House, Amesbury.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">26. Whittier Home, Amesbury.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">27. Hawkswood.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">28. Deer Island, Chain Bridge, home of Mrs. Spofford.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">29. Rocky Hill Church.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">30. The Fountain, Mundy Hill.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">31. House at Hampton Falls, where Whittier died.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">32. Scene of "The Wreck of Rivermouth."</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">33. Boar's Head.</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HAVERHILL" id="HAVERHILL"></a><big>HAVERHILL</big></h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 598px;"> +<a name="whittiers_birthplace" id="whittiers_birthplace"></a> +<img src="images/image002.jpg" width="598" height="600" alt="WHITTIER'S BIRTHPLACE +Copyright, 1891, by A. A. Ordway" title="WHITTIER'S BIRTHPLACE +Copyright, 1891, by A. A. Ordway" /> +<span class="caption">WHITTIER'S BIRTHPLACE<br /> +<small>Copyright, 1891, by A. A. Ordway</small></span> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> +<h2><big>WHITTIER-LAND</big></h2> + +<h2>I<br /><br /> + +HAVERHILL</h2> + + +<p>The whole valley of the Merrimac, from its source among +the New Hampshire hills to where it meets the ocean at +Newburyport, has been celebrated in Whittier's verse, and +might well be called "Whittier-Land." But the object of +these pages is to describe only that part of the valley included +in Essex County, the northeastern section of Massachusetts. +The border line separating New Hampshire +from the Bay State is three miles north of the river, and +follows all its turnings in this part of its course. For this +reason each town on the north of the Merrimac is but +three miles in width. It was on this three-mile strip that +Whittier made his home for his whole life. His birthplace +in Haverhill was his home for the first twenty-nine years +of his life. He lived in Amesbury the remaining fifty-six +years. The birthplace is in the East Parish of Haverhill, +three miles from the City Hall, and three miles from what +was formerly the Amesbury line. It is nearly midway +between the New Hampshire line and the Merrimac +River. In 1876 the township of Merrimac was formed +out of the western part of Amesbury, and this new town is +interposed between the two homes, which are nine miles +apart.</p> + +<p>Haverhill, Merrimac, Amesbury, and Salisbury are each +on the three-mile-wide ribbon of land stretching to the +sea, on the left bank of the river. On the opposite bank +are Bradford, Groveland, Newbury, and Newburyport.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +The whole region on both sides of the river abounds in +beautifully rounded hills formed of glacial deposits of +clay and gravel, and they are fertile to their tops. At +many points they press close to the river, which has worn +its channel down to the sea-level, and feels the influence +of the tides beyond Haverhill. This gives picturesque +effects at many points. The highest of the hills have +summits about three hundred and sixty feet above the +surface of the river, and there are many little lakes and +ponds nestling in the hollows in every direction. In the +early days these hills were crowned with lordly growths of +oak and pine, and some of them still retain these adornments. +But most of the summits are now open pastures +or cultivated fields. The roofs and spires of prosperous +cities and villages are seen here and there among their +shade trees, and give a human interest to the lovely landscape. +It is not surprising that Whittier found inspiration +for the beautiful descriptive passages which occur in every +poem which has this river for theme or illustration:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Stream of my fathers! sweetly still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sunset rays thy valley fill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poured slantwise down the long defile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wave, wood, and spire beneath them smile."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 588px;"> +<a name="river_path" id="river_path"></a> +<img src="images/image005.jpg" width="588" height="600" alt="RIVER PATH" title="RIVER PATH" /> +<span class="caption">RIVER PATH</span> +</div> + +<p>Here is a description of the scenery of the Merrimac +valley by Mr. Whittier himself, in a review of Rev. P. S. +Boyd's "Up and Down the Merrimac," written for a journal +with which I was connected, and never reprinted until +now:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The scenery of the lower valley of the Merrimac is +not bold or remarkably picturesque, but there is a great +charm in the panorama of its soft green intervales: its +white steeples rising over thick clusters of elms and +maples, its neat villages on the slopes of gracefully rounded +hills, dark belts of woodland, and blossoming or fruited +orchards, which would almost justify the words of one who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +formerly sojourned on its banks, that the Merrimac is the +fairest river this side of Paradise. Thoreau has immortalized +it in his 'Week on the Concord and Merrimack +Rivers.' The late Caleb Cushing, who was not by nature +inclined to sentiment and enthusiasm, used to grow eloquent +and poetical when he spoke of his native river. +Brissot, the leader of the Girondists in the French Revolution, +and Louis Philippe, who were familiar with its scenery, +remembered it with pleasure. Anne Bradstreet, the +wife of Governor Bradstreet, one of the earliest writers of +verse in New England, sang of it at her home on its banks +at Andover; and the lovely mistress of Deer Island, who +sees on one hand the rising moon lean above the low sea<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +horizon of the east, and on the other the sunset reddening +the track of the winding river, has made it the theme and +scene of her prose and verse."</p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="haverhill_academy" id="haverhill_academy"></a> +<img src="images/image006.jpg" width="600" height="497" alt="HAVERHILL ACADEMY" title="HAVERHILL ACADEMY" /> +<span class="caption">HAVERHILL ACADEMY</span> +</div> + +<p>The visitor who approaches Whittier-Land by the way +of Haverhill will find in that city many places of interest +in connection with the poet's early life, and referred to +in his poems. The Academy for which he wrote the ode +sung at its dedication in 1827, when he was a lad of nineteen, +and before he had other than district school training, +is now the manual training school of the city, and may be +found, little changed except by accretion, on Winter Street, +near the city hall. As this ode does not appear in any of +his collected works, and is certainly creditable as a juvenile +production, it is given here. It was sung to the air +of "Pillar of Glory:"—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hail, Star of Science! Come forth in thy splendor,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Illumine these walls—let them evermore be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shrine where thy votaries offerings may tender,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hallowed by genius, and sacred to thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Warmed by thy genial glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here let thy laurels grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Greenly for those who rejoice at thy name.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here let thy spirit rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thrilling the ardent breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rousing the soul with thy promise of fame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Companion of Freedom! The light of her story,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wherever her voice at thine altar is known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There shall no cloud of oppression come o'er thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No envious tyrant thy splendor disown.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sons of the proud and free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Joyous shall cherish thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long as their banners in triumph shall wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And from its peerless height<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne'er shall thy orb of light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sink, but to set upon Liberty's grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Smile then upon us; on hearts that have never<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bowed down 'neath oppression's unhallowed control.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spirit of Science! O, crown our endeavor;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Here shed thy beams on the night of the soul;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then shall thy sons entwine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here for thy sacred shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wreaths that shall flourish through ages to come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bright in thy temple seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Robed in immortal green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fadeless memorials of genius shall bloom.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Haverhill, although but three miles wide, is ten miles +long, and includes many a fertile farm out of sight of +city spires, and out of sound of city streets. As Whittier +says in the poem "Haverhill:"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And far and wide it stretches still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along its southward sloping hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And overlooks on either hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rich and many-watered land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><b>. . . . .</b><br /></span> +</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Nature holds with narrowing space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From mart and crowd, her old-time grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And guards with fondly jealous arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild growths of outlying farms.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her sunsets on Kenoza fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her autumn leaves by Saltonstall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No lavished gold can richer make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her opulence of hill and lake."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="main_st_haverhill" id="main_st_haverhill"></a> +<img src="images/image008.jpg" width="600" height="441" alt="MAIN STREET, HAVERHILL +City Hall at the right; Haverhill Bridge in middle distance" title="MAIN STREET, HAVERHILL +City Hall at the right; Haverhill Bridge in middle distance" /> +<span class="caption">MAIN STREET, HAVERHILL<br /> +<small>City Hall at the right; Haverhill Bridge in middle distance</small></span> +</div> + +<p>This "opulence of hill and lake" is the especial charm +of Haverhill. The two symmetrical hills, named Gold and +Silver, near the river, one above and one below the city +proper, are those referred to in "The Sycamores" as +viewed by Washington with admiring comment, standing +in his stirrups and</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">"Looking up and looking down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the hills of Gold and Silver<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rimming round the little town."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="birthplace_winter" id="birthplace_winter"></a> +<img src="images/image009.jpg" width="600" height="451" alt="BIRTHPLACE IN WINTER +From hemlocks above brook +Copyright, 1891, by A. A. Ordway." title="BIRTHPLACE IN WINTER +From hemlocks above brook +Copyright, 1891, by A. A. Ordway." /> +<span class="caption">BIRTHPLACE IN WINTER<br /> +<small>From hemlocks above brook</small><br /> +<small>Copyright, 1891, by A. A. Ordway.</small></span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> +<p>Silver Hill is the one with the tower on it. As one takes +at the railway station the electric car for the three-mile +trip to the Whittier birthplace, two lakes are soon passed +on the right. The larger one, overlooked by the stone +castle on top of a great hill embowered in trees, is Kenoza—a +name signifying pickerel. It was christened by +Whittier with the poem which has permanently fixed its +name. The whole lake and the beautiful wooded hills surrounding +it, with the picturesque castle crowning one of +them, are now included in a public park of which any city +might be proud. Our car passes close at hand, on the left, +another lake not visible because it is so much above +us. This is a singular freak of nature—a deep lake fed +by springs on top of a hill. The surface of this lake is +far above the tops of most of the houses of Haverhill, +and it is but a few rods from Kenoza, which lies almost +a hundred feet below. Our road is at middle height between +the two, and only a stone's throw from either.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="kenoza" id="kenoza"></a> +<img src="images/image010.jpg" width="600" height="454" alt="KENOZA" title="KENOZA" /> +<span class="caption">KENOZA</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 353px;"> +<a name="fernside_brook" id="fernside_brook"></a> +<img src="images/image011.jpg" width="353" height="600" alt="FERNSIDE BROOK, THE STEPPING-STONES" title="FERNSIDE BROOK, THE STEPPING-STONES" /> +<span class="caption">FERNSIDE BROOK, THE STEPPING-STONES</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> +<p>As we approach the birthplace, it is over the northern +shoulder of Job's Hill, the summit of which is high above +us at the right. This hill was named for an Indian chief +of the olden time. We look down at the left into an idyllic +valley, and through the trees that skirt a lovely brook +catch sight of the ancient farmhouse on a gentle slope +which seems designed by nature for its reception. To +the west and south high hills crowd closely upon this +valley, but to the east are green meadows through which +winds, at last at leisure, the brook just released from its +tumble among the rocks of old Job's left shoulder. The +road by which we have come is comparatively new, and +was not in existence when the Whittiers lived here. The +old road crosses it close by the brook, which is here +bridged. The house faces the brook, and not the road, +presenting to the highway the little eastern porch that +gives entrance to the kitchen,—the famous kitchen of +"Snow-Bound."</p> + +<p>The barn is across the road directly opposite this porch. +It is now much longer than it was in Whittier's youth, but +two thirds of it towards the road is the old part to which +the boys tunneled through the snowdrift—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">... "With merry din,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And roused the prisoned brutes within.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old horse thrust his long head out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And grave with wonder gazed about;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cock his lusty greeting said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And forth his speckled harem led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mild reproach of hunger looked;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hornéd patriarch of the sheep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like Egypt's Amun roused from sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shook his sage head with gesture mute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And emphasized with stamp of foot."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This is not the original barn of the pioneers, but was +built by Whittier's father and uncle Moses in 1821. The +ancient barn was not torn down till some years later. It +was in what is now the orchard back of the house. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +used to be, close to the cattle-yard of the comparatively +new barn, a shop containing a blacksmith's outfit. This +was removed more than fifty years ago, being in a ruinous +condition from extreme old age. It had not been so +tenderly cared for as was its contemporary of the Stuart +times across the road.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="birthplace_from_road" id="birthplace_from_road"></a> +<img src="images/image013.jpg" width="600" height="396" alt="THE BIRTHPLACE, FROM THE ROAD +Showing eastern porch, gate, bridle-post, and large boulder used as horse-block" title="THE BIRTHPLACE, FROM THE ROAD +Showing eastern porch, gate, bridle-post, and large boulder used as horse-block" /> +<span class="caption">THE BIRTHPLACE, FROM THE ROAD<br /> +<small>Showing eastern porch, gate, bridle-post, and large boulder used as horse-block</small></span> +</div> + +<p>Thomas Whittier, the pioneer, did not happen upon +this valley upon his first arrival from England, in 1638. +Indeed, at that time the settlements had not reached into +this then primeval wilderness. He settled first in that +part of Salisbury which is now named Amesbury, and +while a very young man represented that town in the +General Court. The Whittier Hill which overlooks the +poet's Amesbury home was named for the pioneer, and +not for his great-great-grandson. It is to this day called +by Amesbury people Whitcher Hill—as that appears to +have been the pronunciation of the name in the olden +time. For some reason he removed across the river to +Newbury. As a town official of Salisbury, he had occasion +to lay out a highway towards Haverhill—a road still +in use. He came upon a location that pleased his fancy, +and in 1647, at the age of twenty-seven, he returned to +the northern side of the river and built a log house on the +left bank of Country Brook, about a mile from the location +he selected in 1688 for his permanent residence. He +lived forty-one years in this log house, and here raised a +family of ten children, five of them stalwart boys, each +over six feet in height. He was sixty-eight years old when +he undertook to build the house now the shrine visited +yearly by thousands. In raising its massive oaken frame +he needed little help outside his own family. As to the +location of the log house, the writer of these pages visited +the spot with Mr. Whittier in search of it in 1882. He +said that when a boy he used to see traces of its foundation, +and hoped to find them again; but more than half a +century had passed in the mean time, and our search was +unsuccessful. It was on the ridge to the left of the road, +quite near the old Country Bridge.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="haunted_bridge" id="haunted_bridge"></a> +<img src="images/image015.jpg" width="600" height="490" alt="THE HAUNTED BRIDGE OF COUNTRY BROOK" title="THE HAUNTED BRIDGE OF COUNTRY BROOK" /> +<span class="caption">THE HAUNTED BRIDGE OF COUNTRY BROOK</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> +<p>Country Bridge had the reputation of being haunted, +when Whittier was a boy, and several of his early uncollected +poems refer to this fact. No one who could +avoid it ventured over it after dark. He told me that +once he determined to swallow his fears and brave the +danger. He approached whistling to keep his courage +up, but a panic seized him, and he turned and ran home +without daring to look behind. It was in this vicinity +that Thomas Whittier built his first house in Haverhill. +Further down the stream was Millvale, where were three +mills, one a gristmill. This mill and the evil reputation +of the bridge are both referred to in these lines from +"The Home-Coming of the Bride," a fragment first +printed in "Life and Letters:"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"They passed the dam and the gray gristmill,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose walls with the jar of grinding shook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crossed, for the moment awed and still,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The haunted bridge of the Country Brook."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> +<p>It was the custom of the pioneers, when they had the +choice, to select the sites of their homes near the small +water powers of the brooks; the large rivers they had +not then the power to harness. There were good mill sites +on Country Brook below the log house, but probably +some other settler had secured them, and Thomas Whittier +found in the smaller stream on his own estate a fairly +good water power. Fernside Brook is a tributary of Country +Brook. Probably this decided the selection of the +site for a house which was to be a home for generation +after generation of his descendants. The dam recently +restored is at the same spot where stood the Whittier mill, +and in making repairs some of the timbers of the ancient +mill were found. Parts of the original walls of the dam +are now to be seen on each side of the brook, but the +mill had disappeared long before Whittier was born. +Further up the brook were two other dams, used as reservoirs. +The lower dam when perfect was high enough +to enable the family to bring water to house and barn in +pipes.</p> + +<p>When entering the grounds, notice the "bridle-post" +at the left of the gate, and a massive boulder in which +rude steps are cut for mounting a horse led up to its +side:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The bridle-post an old man sat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Like all of Whittier's descriptions, this is an exact picture +of what he had in mind; for this stone, after a great +snowstorm, would assume just this appearance. As to the +phrase, "the well-curb had a Chinese roof," I once asked +him how this well could have had a roof, as the "long +sweep high aloof" would have interfered with it. He +stood by the side of the well, and explained that there +was no roof, but that there was a shelf on one side of the +curb on which to rest the bucket. The snow piled up on +this like a Chinese roof. The isolation of the homestead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +referred to in the phrase, "no social smoke curled over +woods of snow-hung oak," has not been broken in either +of the centuries this house has stood. No other house +was ever to be seen from it in any direction. And yet +neighbors are within a half-mile, only the hills and forests +hide their habitations from view. When the wind is right, +the bells of Haverhill may be faintly heard, and the roar +of ocean after a storm sometimes penetrates as a hoarse +murmur in this valley.</p> + +<p>In the old days, before these hills were robbed of the +oaken growths that crowned their summits, their apparent +height was much increased, and the isolation rendered +even more complete than now. Sunset came much +earlier than it did outside this valley. The eastern hill, +beyond the meadow, is more distant and not so high, and +so the sunrises are comparatively early. Visitors interested +in geology will find this hill an unusually good +specimen of an eschar, a long ridge of glacial gravel set +down in a meadow through which Fernside Brook curves +on its way to its outlet in Country Brook. Job's Hill at +the south rises so steeply from the right bank of Fernside +Brook, at the foot of the terraced slope in front of the +house, that it is difficult for many rods to get a foothold. +The path by which the hill was scaled and the stepping-stones +by which the brook was crossed are accurately +sketched in the poem "Telling the Bees,"—a poem, by +the way, which originally had "Fernside" for its title:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Here is the place; right over the hill<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Runs the path I took;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You can see the gap in the old wall still,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the stepping-stones in the shallow brook."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Visitors should read the stanzas immediately following +this, and note the exactness of the poet's description of +the homestead he had in mind. The poem was written +more than twenty years after he left Haverhill, and it +was many years after that when Mr. Alfred Ordway, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +taking photographs of the place, noticed that it had already +been pictured in verse; when he spoke of it to +Mr. Whittier, the poet was both surprised and pleased at +this, which, he said, was the first recognition of his birthplace. +The public is indebted to Mr. Ordway for many +other discoveries of the same kind, illustrating Whittier's +minute fidelity to nature in his descriptions of scenery.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="garden_at_birthplace" id="garden_at_birthplace"></a> +<img src="images/image018.jpg" width="600" height="470" alt="GARDEN AT BIRTHPLACE" title="GARDEN AT BIRTHPLACE" /> +<span class="caption">GARDEN AT BIRTHPLACE</span> +</div> + +<p>Let us enter the house by the eastern porch, noting +the circular door-stone, which was the millstone that +ground the grain of the pioneers, more than a century +before Whittier was born. It belonged in the mill on the +brook to which reference has been made. The fire which +destroyed the roof of the house in November, 1902, did +not injure this porch, and there were other parts of the +house which were scarcely scorched. These are the original +walls, and the handiwork of the pioneers is exactly +copied in whatever had to be restored. This was made +possible by photographs that had been kept, showing the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +width and shape of every board and moulding, inside +and outside the house. Here again it is Mr. Ordway, president +of the board of trustees having the birthplace in +charge, who is to be especially thanked. It is proper +here, as I have spoken of the fire, to mention the heroic +work of the custodian, Mrs. Ela, and others, who saved +every article of the precious souvenirs endangered by the +fire, so that nothing was lost.</p> + +<p>The kitchen, which occupies nearly the whole northern +side of the house, is twenty-six feet long and sixteen +wide. The visitor's attention is usually first drawn to the +great fireplace in the centre of its southern side. The central +chimney was built by the pioneer more than two centuries +ago, and it has five fireplaces opening into it. The +bricks of the kitchen hearth are much worn, as might be +expected from having served so many generations as the +centre of their home life. It was around this identical +hearth that the family was grouped, as sketched in the +great poem which has consecrated this room, and made +it a shrine toward which the pilgrims of many future generations +will find their way. Here was piled—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The oaken log, green, huge and thick,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on its top the stout back-stick;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The knotty forestick laid apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And filled between with curious art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ragged brush; then, hovering near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We watched the first red blaze appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On whitewashed wall and sagging beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until the old, rude-furnished room<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Here on these very bricks simmered the mug of cider and +the "apples sputtered in a row," while through these +northern windows the homely scene was repeated on the +sparkling drifts in mimic flame. The table now standing +between these windows is the same that then stood there, +and many of the dishes on the shelves near by are the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +family heirlooms occupying their old places. Two of these +pieces of china were brought here by Sarah Greenleaf, +Whittier's grandmother. The bull's-eye watch over the +mantel is a fine specimen of the olden time, and hangs +on the identical nail from which uncle Moses nightly suspended +his plump timepiece.</p> + +<p>But perhaps the article which is most worthy of attention +in this room is the desk at the eastern corner. This +was the desk of Joseph Whittier, great-grandfather of the +poet, and son of the pioneer. On the backs and bottoms +of the drawers of this desk are farm memoranda made +with chalk much more than a century ago. One item +dated in 1798 records that the poet's father made his +last excursion to Canada in that year. It was about a +century old when the boy Whittier scribbled his first +rhymes upon it. By an interesting coincidence he also, +in his eighty-fifth year, wrote his very last poem upon it. +When the family removed to Amesbury, in 1836, this +desk was taken with them, but soon after was replaced +by a new one, and this went "out of commission." The +new desk was the one on which "Snow-Bound" was written, +and this may now be seen at Amesbury. When Mr. +Whittier's niece was married, he gave her this old desk, +which she took to Portland, where it was thoroughly repaired. +When he visited Portland, he wrote many letters +and some poems on it. In the summer of 1891, as her +uncle proposed to make his home with his cousins, the +Cartlands, in Newburyport, his niece had this ancient +desk sent there. Mr. Whittier was greatly pleased, upon +his arrival, to find in his room the heirloom which was +hallowed by so many associations connected not only +with his ancestry, but with his own early life. Nearly all +of the literary work of his last year was done upon this +desk. To his niece he wrote:—</p> + +<p>"I am writing at the old desk, which Gertrude has +placed in my room, but it seems difficult to imagine myself +the boy who used to sit by it and make rhymes. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +is wonderfully rejuvenated, and is a handsome piece of +furniture. It was the desk of my great-grandfather, and +seemed to me a wretched old wreck when thee took it to +Portland. I did not suppose it could be made either useful +or ornamental. I wrote my first pamphlet on slavery, +'Justice and Expediency,' upon it, as well as a great +many rhymes which might as well have never been written. +I am glad that it has got a new lease of life."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="kitchen_in_birthplace" id="kitchen_in_birthplace"></a> +<img src="images/image021.jpg" width="600" height="382" alt="KITCHEN IN BIRTHPLACE +Copyright, 1891, by A. A. Ordway" title="KITCHEN IN BIRTHPLACE +Copyright, 1891, by A. A. Ordway" /> +<span class="caption">KITCHEN IN BIRTHPLACE<br /> +<small>Copyright, 1891, by A. A. Ordway</small></span> +</div> + +<p>The little room at the western end of the kitchen was +"mother's room," its floor two steps higher than that of +the larger room, for a singular reason. In digging the +cellar the pioneer found here a large boulder it was inconvenient +to remove, and wishing a milk room at this +corner, he was obliged to make its floor two steps higher +than the rest of the cellar. This inequality is reproduced +in each story. In this little room the bed is furnished +with the blankets and linen woven by Whittier's mother +on the loom that used to stand in the open chamber. Her +initials "A. H." on some of the pieces show that they +date back to her life in Somersworth, N. H. On the wall +of this room may be seen the baby-clothes of Whittier's +father, made by the grandmother who brought the name +of Greenleaf into the family. The bureau in this room is +the one that stood there in the olden time. The little +mirror that stands on it is the one by which Whittier +shaved most of his life. He used it at Amesbury, and +possibly his father used it before him at Haverhill.</p> + +<p>Mr. Whittier had a great fund of stories of the supernatural +that were current in this neighborhood in his +youth, and one that had this very kitchen for its scene, +he told with much impressiveness. It was the story of his +aunt Mercy—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The sweetest woman ever Fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perverse denied a household mate."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was out of this window in the kitchen that she saw the +horse and its rider coming down the road, and recognized<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +the young man to whom she was betrothed. It was out of +this window in the porch that she saw them again, as she +went to the door to welcome her lover. It was this door +she opened, to find no trace of horse or rider. It was to +this little room at the other end of the kitchen that she +went, bewildered and terrified, to waken her sister, who +tried in vain to pacify her by saying she had been dreaming +by the fire, when she should have been in bed. And it +was in this room she received the letter many days later +telling her of the death of her lover in a distant city at +the hour of her vision.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Mr. Whittier told such stories with +the air of more than half belief in their truth, especially +in his later years, when he became interested in the researches +of scientists in the realm of telepathy. He said +his aunt was the most truthful of women, and she never +doubted the reality of her vision.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="western_end_of_kitchen" id="western_end_of_kitchen"></a> +<img src="images/image023.jpg" width="600" height="385" alt="WESTERN END OF KITCHEN +View of "mother's room;" the poet was born in a room at the left, beyond the fireplace +Copyright 1891, by A. A. Ordway" title="WESTERN END OF KITCHEN +View of "mother's room;" the poet was born in a room at the left, beyond the fireplace +Copyright 1891, by A. A. Ordway" /> +<span class="caption">WESTERN END OF KITCHEN<br /> +<small>View of "mother's room;" the poet was born in a room at the left, beyond the fireplace</small><br /> +<small>Copyright 1891, by A. A. Ordway</small></span> +</div> + +<p>The door at the southwestern corner of the kitchen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +opens into the room in which the poet was born. This +was the parlor, but as the Friends were much given to +hospitality, it was often needed as a bedroom, and there +was in it a bedstead that could be lifted from the floor +and supported by a hook in the ceiling when not in use. +In the corners are cabinets containing articles of use and +ornament that are genuine relics of the Whittier family. +The inlaid mahogany card-table between the front windows +was brought to this house just a century ago (1804) +by Abigail Hussey, the bride of John Whittier, and placed +where it now stands. Like the desk in the kitchen, it has +always been in the possession of the family, and was restored +to the birthplace by the niece to whom Whittier +gave it. In this room are several books that belonged in +the small library of Whittier's father, which are mentioned +in "Snow-Bound," and described more fully in the rhymed +catalogue, a part of which appears in "Life and Letters," +p. 46. I here give the full list copied from Whittier's manuscript, +for which I am indebted to Miss Sarah S. Thayer, +daughter of Abijah W. Thayer, who edited the "Haverhill +Gazette," and with whom Whittier boarded while in the +Academy. Mr. Thayer had appended to the manuscript +these words: "This was deposited in my hands about +1828, by John G. Whittier, who assured me that it was +his first effort at versification. It was written in 1823 or +1824, when Whittier was fifteen or sixteen years old."</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="title"> +NARRATIVES</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How Captain Riley and his crew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were on Sahara's desert threw.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Rollins to obtain the cash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrote a dull history of trash.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er Bruce's travels I have pored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who the sources of the Nile explored.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Malcolm of Salem's narrative beside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lost his ship's crew, unless belied.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How David Foss, poor man, was thrown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon an island all alone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="title"> +RELIGIOUS</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Bible towering o'er the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the other books the best.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old Father Baxter's pious call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the unconverted all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">William Penn's laborious writing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the books 'gainst Christians fighting.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some books of sound theology,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Robert Barclay's "Apology."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dyer's "Religion of the Shakers,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clarkson's also of the Quakers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many more books I have read through—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress" too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A book concerning John's baptism,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elias Smith's "Universalism."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="title"> +JOURNALS, LIVES, &c.</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Lives of Franklin and of Penn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Fox and Scott, all worthy men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Lives of Pope, of Young and Prior,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Milton, Addison, and Dyer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Doddridge, Fénelon and Gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Armstrong, Akenside, and Gay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Life of Burroughs, too, I've read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As big a rogue as e'er was made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Tufts, who, I will be civil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was worse than an incarnate devil.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">—Written by John G. Whittier.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The books of this library now to be seen are the "Life +of George Fox," in two leather-bound volumes, printed in +London, 1709, Sewel's "Painful History," printed in 1825, +Ellwood's "Drab-Skirted Muse," Philadelphia edition of +1775, and Thomas Clarkson's "Portraiture of Quakerism," +New York edition of 1806.</p> + +<p>The little red chest near the fireplace is an ancient relic +of the family, formerly used for storing linen. The portrait +of Whittier over the fireplace is enlarged from a +miniature painted by J. S. Porter about 1830, and it is +the earliest likeness of the poet ever taken. The original<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +miniature may be seen at the Amesbury home. The large +portrait on the opposite side of the room was painted +by Joseph Lindon Smith, an artist of celebrity, who is a +relative of Whittier's. Portraits of Whittier's brother, +his sisters, his mother, and his old schoolmaster, Joshua +Coffin, are shown in this room. The silhouette on the +mantelpiece is of aunt Mercy, his mother's unmarried +sister. A sampler worked by Lydia Aver, the girl commemorated +in the poem "In School Days," is exhibited +in this room. She was a member of the family who were +the nearest neighbors of the Whittiers—a family still +represented in their ancient homestead, where her grandniece +now lives. She died at the age of fourteen.</p> + +<p>It was the privilege of the writer to accompany Mr. +Whittier when he made his last visit to his birthplace, in +late October, 1882. When in this birth-room, he expressed +a wish to see again a fire upon its hearth, not for warmth, +for it was a warm day, but for the sentiment of it. The +elderly woman who had charge of the house said she +would have a fire built, and in the mean time we went +down to the brook, intending to cross by the stepping-stones +he had so often used. But the brook was running +full, the stepping-stones were slippery, and Mr. Whittier +reluctantly gave up crossing. Then we visited the little +burying-ground of the family, where lie the remains of his +ancestors. When we returned to the parlor, we found +the good woman had brought down a sheet-iron air-tight +stove from the attic, set it in the fireplace, and there was +a crackling fire in it! I suggested that we could easily +remove the stove and have a blaze on the hearth, but +Mr. Whittier at once negatived the proposition, saying +we must not let the woman know we were disappointed. +She had taken much pains to please us, and must not be +made aware of her mistake. He was always ready to +suffer inconvenience rather than wound the sensibilities +of any one.</p> + +<p>From the back entry at the western end of the kitchen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +ascends the steep staircase down which Whittier, when an +infant, was rolled by his sister Mary, two years older than +he. She thought if he were well wrapped in a blanket he +would not be harmed, and the experiment proved quite +successful, thanks to her abundant care in bundling him +in many folds. He happily escaped one other peril in his +infancy. His parents took him with them on a winter +drive to Kingston, N. H. To protect him from the cold, +he was wrapped too closely in his blankets, and he came +so near asphyxiation that for a time he was thought to be +dead. He was taken into a farmhouse they were passing +when the discovery was made, and after a long and anxious +treatment they were delighted to find he was living.</p> + +<p>The rooms in the upper part of the house injured by +the recent fire have been perfectly restored to their original +condition. At Whittier's last visit here he went into +every room, and told stories of the happenings of his youth +in each. At the head of the back stairs is a little doorless +press, which he pointed out as a favorite play-place of +his and his brother's. Here they found room for their +few toys, as perhaps three generations of Whittier children +had done before them. And it is not unlikely that +some of their toys had amused the youth of their grandfather. +One of his earliest memories is connected with +this little closet, for here he had his first severe twinge of +conscience. He had told a lie—no doubt a white one, +for it did not trouble him at first—and soon after was +watching the rising of a thunder-cloud that was grumbling +over the great trees on the western hill near at hand. A +bolt descended among the oaks, and the deafening explosion +was instantaneous. He saw in it an exhibition of +divine wrath over his sin, and obeyed the primal instinct +to hide himself. His mother, searching for him some time +after the storm had passed, found her repentant little +boy almost smothered under a quilt in this closet, and as +he confessed his sin, he was tenderly shrived. Here in +the open chamber the brothers often slept when visitors<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +claimed the little western chamber they usually occupied. +They would sometimes find, sifted through cracks in the +old walls, a little snowdrift on their quilt. The small +western room the boys called theirs was the scene of the +story Trowbridge has so neatly versified. The elder proposed +that as they could lift each other, by lifting in turn +they could rise to the ceiling, and there was no knowing +how much further if they were out of doors! The prudent +lads, to make it easy in case of failure, stood upon +the bed in this little room. Trowbridge says:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Kind Nature smiled on that wise child,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor could her love deny him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The large fulfilment of his plan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since he who lifts his brother man<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In turn is lifted by him."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Boys were boys in those days, and Whittier told us of trying +to annoy his younger sister by pretending to hang +her cat on this railing to the attic stairs. And girls were +girls too; for he told of Elizabeth's frightening two hired +men who were occupying the open chamber. They had +been telling each other ghost stories after they went to +bed; but both asserted that they could not be frightened +by such things. From over the door of her room Elizabeth +began throwing pins, one at a time, so that they +would strike on the floor near the brave men. They were +so frightened they would not stay there another night. In +the open attic bunches of dried herbs hung from the rafters, +and traces of corn selected for seed. On the floor the +boys spread their store of nuts "from brown October's +wood." Originally the northern side of the roof sloped +down to the first story, as was the fashion in the days of +the Stuarts. But some years before Whittier's birth this +side of the roof was raised, giving much additional chamber +room.</p> + +<p>Not far from the house, at the foot of the western hill, +is the small lot inclosed by a stone wall, to which reference<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +has been made, that from the earliest settlement was +the burying-place of the family. Here lie the remains of +Thomas Whittier and those of his descendants who were +the ancestors of the poet. A plain granite shaft in the +centre of the lot is inscribed with the names of Thomas +Whittier and of Ruth Green, his wife; Joseph Whittier +and Mary Peaslee, his wife; Joseph Whittier, 2d, and +Sarah Greenleaf, his wife. No headstones mark the several +graves. Others of the family were buried here, including +Mary Whittier, an aunt of the poet. His father +and uncle Moses, originally buried here, were removed to +the Amesbury cemetery, when his mother died, in 1857.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="whittier_elm" id="whittier_elm"></a> +<img src="images/image029.jpg" width="600" height="517" alt="THE WHITTIER ELM" title="THE WHITTIER ELM" /> +<span class="caption">THE WHITTIER ELM</span> +</div> + +<p>Across the road from the house of the nearest neighbors, +the Ayers, in a field of the Whittier farm, is an old, +immense, and symmetrical tree, labeled "The Whittier<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +Elm," which the poet's schoolmate, Edmund Ayer, saved +from the woodman's axe by paying an annual tribute, at a +time when the farm had gone out of the possession of the +Whittiers, and while the new proprietors were intent upon +despoiling the place of its finest trees. This is the tree +referred to in these lines, written in 1862, in the album +of Lydia Amanda Ayer (now Mrs. Evans), his schoolmate +Lydia's niece:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A dweller where my infant eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looked out on Nature's sweet surprise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose home is in the ample shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the old Elm Tree where I played,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Asks for her book a word of mine:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I give it in a single line:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be true to Nature and to Heaven's design!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Whittier took us that October day to neighbor Ayer's +house, where the brother of little Lydia was still living, +who also was a schoolmate of the poet, and they talked +of the old times with the greatest relish. The Ayer house +occupies the site of a garrison house, built of strong oaken +timbers, and used as a house of refuge in the time of the +Indian wars. The Whittiers, though close at hand, never +availed themselves of its protection, even when Indian +faces covered with war-paint peered through the kitchen +windows upon the peaceful Quaker family. We were soon +joined by another aged schoolmate, Aaron Chase, and +with him we went to Corliss Hill, where Whittier showed +us the two houses in which he first went to school. They +are both now standing, and are dwelling-houses in each +of which a room was given up for the district school—one +before the house described in "In School Days" was +built, and the other while it was being repaired. He had +not yet arrived at school age when his sister Mary took +him to his first school, kept by his life-long friend, Joshua +Coffin, to whom he addressed the poem, "To My Old +Schoolmaster." As I happened to be a nephew of Coffin, +he told me stories of his first school. It was kept in an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +unfinished ell of a farmhouse; but the room had been +transformed into a neatly furnished kitchen when we visited +it. In the poem referred to he alludes to the quarrels +of the good man and his tipsy wife heard through "the +cracked and crazy wall." He told this story of the tipsy +wife: She sent her son for brush to heat her oven. He +brought such a nice load that she thought it too bad to +waste it in the oven. So she sent her son with it to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +grocery, and he brought back the liquor he received in +payment. But this made her short of oven wood, and to +eke out her supply of fuel she burned a loose board of the +cellar stairs. The next time she had occasion to go to +the cellar, she forgot the hiatus she had made and broke +her leg. After Mr. Chase left us, Whittier told me that his +old schoolmate was a nephew of the last person usually +accounted a witch in this neighborhood. She was the wife +of Moses Chase of Rocks Village. Her relatives believed +her a witch, and one of her nieces knocked her down in +the shape of a persistent bug that troubled her. At that +moment it happened that the old woman fell and hurt her +head. The old lady on one occasion went before Squire +Ladd, the blacksmith and Justice of the Peace at the +Rocks, and took her oath that she was not a witch.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 313px;"> +<a name="joshua_coffin" id="joshua_coffin"></a> +<img src="images/image031.jpg" width="313" height="450" alt="JOSHUA COFFIN + + + +"Olden teacher, present friend, +Wise with antiquarian search, +In the scrolls of State and Church; +Named on history's title-page, +Parish-clerk and justice sage." + +To My Old Schoolmaster +" title="JOSHUA COFFIN + + + +"Olden teacher, present friend, +Wise with antiquarian search, +In the scrolls of State and Church; +Named on history's title-page, +Parish-clerk and justice sage." + +To My Old Schoolmaster +" /> +<span class="caption">JOSHUA COFFIN<br /> + +<span class="poem"><span class="stanza"> +<small><span class="i4">"Olden teacher, present friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wise with antiquarian search,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the scrolls of State and Church;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Named on history's title-page,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Parish-clerk and justice sage."<br /></span> +<span class="i8 smcap">To My Old Schoolmaster<br /></span> +</small></span></span> +</span></div> + +<p>We next visited the scene of "In School Days," and +found some traces of the schoolhouse that have since +been obliterated, although a tablet now marks its site. +The door-stone over which the scholars "went storming +out to playing" was still there, and some of the foundation +stones were in place. "Around it still the sumachs" +were growing, and blackberry vines were creeping. Mr. +Whittier gathered a handful of the red sumach, and took +it to Amesbury with him. It remained many days in a +vase in his "garden room." Speaking of his boyhood, he +said he was always glad when it came his turn to stay at +home on First Day. The chaise, driven to Amesbury—nine +miles—every First and Fifth Day, fortunately was +not of a capacity to take the whole family at once. This +gave him an occasional opportunity, much enjoyed, to +spend the day musing by the brook, or in the shade of +the oaks and hemlocks on the breezy hilltops, which commanded +a view unsurpassed for beauty. These hills, which +so closely encompass the ancient homestead at the west +and south, are among the highest in the county. From +them one gets glimpses of the ocean in Ipswich Bay, the +undulating hills of Newbury, cultivated to their tops, on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +further side of the Merrimac, the southern ranges of the +New Hampshire mountains, and the heights of Wachusett +and Monadnock in Massachusetts. Po Hill, in Amesbury, +under which stands the Quaker meeting-house where +his parents worshiped, shows its great round dome in +the east. He never tired of these views, and celebrated +them in many of his poems. He especially dreaded the +winter drives to meeting. Buffalo robes were not so plenty +in those days as they became a few years later, and our +fathers did not dress so warmly as do we. He was so +stiffened by cold on some of these drives to Amesbury +that he told me "his teeth could not chatter until thawed +out." Winter had its compensations, as he has so well +shown in "Snow-Bound." But it is noticeable that he does +not refer in that poem to the winter drives to meeting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +On one occasion he improved the absence of his parents +on a First Day to go nutting. He climbed a tall walnut, +and had a fall of about twenty feet which came near being +fatal. The Friends did not theoretically hold one day +more sacred than another, and yet theirs was the habit of +the Puritan community, to abstain from all play as well +as from work on the Sabbath, and this fall gave a smart +fillip to the young poet's conscience.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="scene_in_school_days" id="scene_in_school_days"></a> +<img src="images/image033.jpg" width="600" height="523" alt="SCENE OF "IN SCHOOL DAYS"" title="SCENE OF "IN SCHOOL DAYS"" /> +<span class="caption">SCENE OF "IN SCHOOL DAYS"</span> +</div> + +<p>This story illustrating Whittier's popularity when a +child I did not get from him, but is a legend of the neighborhood. +One of their nearest neighbors, a Miss Chase, +had a cherry-tree she guarded with the utmost jealousy. +No bird could alight on it in cherry time, and no boy approach +it, without bringing her to the rescue with a promptness +that frightened them. One day she saw a boy in the +branches of this precious tree, and issued upon the scene +with dire threats. She caught sight of the culprit's face, +and instantly changed her tone: "Oh, is it you, Greenleaf? +Take all the cherries you want!"</p> + +<p>The old homestead was an object of interest as far +back as 1842, as is shown by a letter before me, written +by Elizabeth Nicholson of Philadelphia, who asks her +friend, Elizabeth Whittier, for a picture of it: "When +thee come to Philadelphia if thee will bring ever so rough +a sketch of the house where Greenleaf was born, for +Elizabeth Lloyd to copy for my book, why—we'll be +glad to see thee! I hope for the sake of the picturesque +it is a ruin—indeed it must be, for Griswold says it has +been in the family a hundred years!" It had then been +in the family for over one hundred and fifty years. The +book referred to by Miss Nicholson was a manuscript +collection of all the verses, published and unpublished, +that Whittier had written at that time—a notable collection, +now in existence. She had obtained from the poet a +preface in verse for this album, which as it has autobiographical +material, refers to the scenery of his birthplace, +and was never in print, is here given in a version he prepared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +for another similar album. For this version I am +indebted to the collection made by Mary Pillsbury of +Newbury, which contains other original poems of Whittier +never published:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="title"> +A RETROSPECT</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O visions of my boyhood! shades of rhymes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain dreams and longings of my early times!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The work of intervals, a ploughboy's lore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft conned by hearthlight when day's toil was o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or when through roof-cracks could at night behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright stars in circle with pattens of gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or stretched at noon while oaken branches cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A restful shade, where rippling waters passed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ox unconscious panted at my side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The good dog fondly his young master eyed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the boughs above the forest bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone rude snatches of the measure heard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The measure that had sounded to me long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vain I sought to weave it in a song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or trace it, when the world's enchantment first<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To longing eye, as kindling dawn's light, burst.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then flattery's voice, in woman's gentlest tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woke thoughts and feelings heretofore unknown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And homes of wealth and beauty, wit and mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By taste refined, by eloquence and worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Taught and diffused the intellect's high joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gladly welcomed e'en a rustic boy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or when ambition's lip of flame and fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burned like the tempter's to my listening ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a proud spirit, hidden deep and long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose up for strife, stern, resolute, and strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eager for toil, and proudly looking up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To higher levels for the world, with hope.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In these lines Whittier has told in brief the whole story +of his life, from his early dreaming by this brookside +and at this hearthstone, to the waking of his political +ambitions, and later to his earnest strife to bring up the +world "to higher levels."</p> + +<p>It happened that the day on which Whittier visited his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +birthplace for the last time was toward the close of a +spirited political campaign in which Whittier took much +interest, as General Butler was a candidate he was opposing. +Speaking of Butler reminded him of the pet ox of +his boyhood, which had the odd name of "Old Butler," +between whose horns he would sit as the animal chewed +his cud under the hillside oaks. This was the same ox +that, in rushing down one of these steep hills for salt, +could not stop because of his momentum, but saved his +young master's life by leaping over his head. No doubt +this ox was in mind when he wrote the line just quoted, +"The ox unconscious panted at my side." One story +reminded him of another, and he said this ox was named +for another that had its day in a former generation on a +neighboring farm.</p> + +<p>This is the story he told of the original "Old Butler:" +A family named Morse lived not far from here, and included +several boys fond of practical joking. The older +brothers one day bound the youngest upon the back of +the ox, Butler. Frightened by the unusual burden, the +animal dashed away to the woods on Job's Hill. The +lad was fearfully bruised before he was rescued. Indignant +at the treatment he had received, he left home the next +morning, and was not heard from until in his old age he +returned to the Haverhill farm, and found his brothers +still living. They killed for him the fatted calf, and after +the supper, as they sat before the great wood fire, they +talked over the events of their boyhood. One of the brothers +referred to the subject all had hitherto avoided, and +said, "Don't you remember your ride upon Old Butler?" +"Yes, I <i>do</i> remember it," was the answer, "and I don't +thank you for bringing it up at this time." The next +morning he left the place, and was never again heard +from. Mr. Whittier told this story to explain the odd +name he had given his ox.</p> + +<p>The story has been often told of Garrison's coming out +to East Haverhill to find a contributor who had interested<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +him; and it has been stated that the Quaker lad was +called in from work in the field to see the dapper young +editor and his lady friend. He once told me that the +situation was a bit more awkward for him. It happened +that on this eventful morning the young poet had discovered +that a hen had stolen her nest under the barn, and +he was crawling on his hands and knees, digging his dusty +way towards the hen, when his sister Mary came out to +summon him to receive city visitors. It was only by her +urgent persuasion that he was induced to give up burrowing +for the eggs. By making a wide detour, he entered +the house without being seen, and in haste effected a +change of raiment. In telling the story, he said he put on +in his haste a pair of trousers that came scarcely to his +ankles, and he must have been a laughable spectacle. +He would have felt much more at ease if he had come +in just as he was when he emerged from under the barn. +Garrison, with the social tact that ever distinguished him, +put the shy boy at his ease at once.</p> + +<p>After the death of their father, Greenleaf and his brother +Franklin for a time worked the farm together, and +when in later life they indulged in reminiscences of this +agricultural experience, this is a story with which the poet +liked to tease his brother: Franklin was sent to swap +cows with a venerable Quaker living at considerable distance +from their homestead. He came back with a beautiful +animal, warranted as he supposed to be a good cow, +and he depended upon a verbal warrant from a member +of a Society which was justly proud of its reliability in all +business transactions. It was soon found that she was +worthless as a milker, and Franklin took her back, demanding +a cancellation of the bargain because the cow +was not as represented. But the old Quaker was ready +for him: "What did I tell thee? Did I say she was a +<i>good</i> cow? No, I told thee she was a <i>harnsome</i> cow—and +thee cannot deny she <i>is</i> harnsome!"</p> + +<p>One of Whittier's ancestors was fined for cutting oaks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +on the common. When this fact was discovered, he was +asked if he would wish this circumstance to be omitted in +his biography. "By no means," he said, "tell the whole +story. It shows we had some enterprising ancestors, even +if a bit unscrupulous."</p> + +<p>When Whittier last visited his birthplace, ten years +before his death, he was saddened by many evidences he +saw that the estate was not being thriftily managed, and +expressed the wish to buy and restore the place to something +like its condition when it remained in his family. +Not one of his near relatives was then so situated as +to be able to take charge of it, and his idea of again +making it Whittier homestead was reluctantly given up. +When he learned, towards the close of his life, that Mr. +Ordway, Mayor Burnham, and other public-spirited citizens +of Haverhill, proposed to buy and care for the place, +already become a shrine for many visitors, he asked +permission to pay whatever might be needed for its purchase. +He died before negotiations could be completed, +and Hon. James H. Carleton generously bought the +homestead, and transferred the proprietorship to a self-perpetuating +board of nine trustees, viz.: Alfred A. Ordway, +George C. How, Charles Butters, Dudley Porter, +Thomas E. Burnham, Clarence E. Kelley, Susan B. Sanders, +Sarah M. F. Duncan, and Annie W. Frankle. In +the deed of gift the trustees were enjoined "to preserve +as nearly as may be the natural features of the landscape; +preserve and restore the buildings thereon as nearly as +may be in the same condition as when occupied by Whittier; +and to afford all persons, at such suitable times and +under such proper restrictions as said trustees may prescribe, +the right and privilege of access to the same, that +thereby the memory and love for the poet and the man +may be cherished and perpetuated." Mr. Ordway was +made president of the board, and in his hands the office +has been no sinecure. His unflagging zeal and his unerring +good taste have resulted not only in putting the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +ancient house into the perfect order of the olden time, but +in fertilizing the wornout fields, and preserving for future +ages one of the finest specimens in the country of the +colonial farmhouse of New England. Mr. Whittier's +niece, to whom he left his house in Amesbury, returned +to the birthplace many of the household treasures that +were carried from there in 1836. The articles in the house +purporting to be Whittier heirlooms may be depended on +as genuine.</p> + +<p>I do not think that Whittier was ever aware that Harriet +Livermore, the "not unfeared, half-welcome guest," of +whom he gave such a vivid portrait in "Snow-Bound," +returned to America from her travels in the Holy Land +at about the time that poem was published, and died the +next year, 1867. I have from good authority this curious +story of her first reading of those lines which meant so +much in a peculiar way to the immortality of her name. +She was ill, and called with a prescription at a drugstore +in Burlington, N. J. It happened that the druggist was a +personal friend of Whittier's—Mr. Allinson, father of the +lad for whom the poem "My Namesake" was written. +This was in March, 1866, and Whittier had just sent his +friend an early copy of his now famous poem. He had +not had time to open the book when the prescription was +handed him. As it would take considerable time to compound +the medicine, he asked the aged lady to take a seat, +and handed her the book he had just received to read +while waiting. When he gave her the medicine and she +returned the book, he noticed she was much perturbed, +and was mystified by her exclamation: "This book tells +a pack of lies about me!" He naturally supposed she +was crazy, both from her remark and from her appearance. +It was not until some time later that he learned that his +customer was Harriet Livermore herself!</p> + +<p>In another New Jersey town was living at the same time +another of the "Snow-Bound" characters,—the teacher +of the district school, whose name even the poet had forgotten<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +when this sketch of him was written. In the last +year of his life Whittier recalled that his name was Haskell, +but could tell me no more, except that he was from +Maine, and was a Dartmouth student. His story is told +in "Life and Letters," and is now referred to only to note +the curious fact that although he lived until 1876, and +was a cultivated man who no doubt was familiar with Whittier's +work, yet he was never aware that he had the poet +for a pupil, and died without knowing that his own portrait +had been drawn by the East Haverhill lad with whom +he had played in this old kitchen. I have this from my +friend, John Townsend Trowbridge, who was personally +acquainted with Haskell in the last years of his life.</p> + +<p>It was in 1698, ten years after this house was built, +that the Indians in a foray upon Haverhill burned many +houses and killed or captured forty persons, including +the heroic Hannah Dustin, in whom they caught a veritable +tartar. Her statue with uplifted tomahawk stands +in front of the City Hall. It is possible that on her return +to Haverhill she brought her ten Indian scalps into +this kitchen.</p> + +<p>Whittier used to tell many amusing stories of his boyhood +days. Here is one he heard in the old kitchen of +the Whittier homestead at Haverhill, as told by the aged +pastor of the Congregational church in the neighborhood, +who used to call upon the Quaker family as if they belonged +to his parish. These extra-official visits were much +prized, especially by the boys, for he told them many a +tale of his own boyhood in Revolutionary times. This +story of "the power of figures" I can give almost in +Whittier's words, as I made notes while he was telling it:</p> + +<p>The old clergyman sat by the kitchen fire with his mug +of cider and told of his college life. He was a poor student, +and when he went home at vacation time, he tramped +the long journey on foot, stopping at hospitable farmhouses +on the way for refreshment. One evening an old +farmer invited him in, and as they sat by the fire, after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +a good supper, they talked of the things the student was +learning at college. At length the farmer suggested:—</p> + +<p>"No doubt you know the power of figures?"</p> + +<p>The student modestly allowed he had learned something +of algebra and some branches of the higher mathematics.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 534px;"> +<a name="harriet_livermore" id="harriet_livermore"></a> +<img src="images/image041.jpg" width="534" height="600" alt="HARRIET LIVERMORE" title="HARRIET LIVERMORE" /> +<span class="caption">HARRIET LIVERMORE<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></span> +</div> + + + + + +<p>"I know it! I know it! You are just the man I want to +see. You know the power of figures! I have lost a cow; +now use your power of figures and find her for me."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> +<p>The student disclaimed such power, but it was of no +use. The farmer insisted that one who knew the power of +figures must be able to locate his cow. Else, of what use +to go to college; why not stay at home and find the cows +after the manner of the unlearned? So the student decided +to quiz a little. He took a piece of chalk and drew crazy +diagrams on the floor. The farmer thought he recognized +in the lines the roads and fences of the vicinity, rubbed +his hands, and exclaimed:—</p> + +<p>"You are coming to it! Don't tell me you don't know +the power of figures!"</p> + +<p>At last, when the poor student had exhausted the power +of his invention, he threw down the chalk, and pointing +to the spot where it fell, said:—</p> + +<p>"Your cow is there!"</p> + +<p>He had a good bed, but could not rest easy on it for +the thought of how he was to get out of the scrape in the +morning, when it would be surely known that his figures +had lied. He decided that he would steal off before any +of the family had arisen. In the early dawn he was congratulating +himself upon having got out of the house unobserved, +when he was met at the gate by the old farmer +himself, who was leading the cow home in triumph. He +had found her exactly where the figures had foretold. Of +course the mathematician must go back to breakfast—what +was he running off for, after doing such a service by +his learning?</p> + +<p>They stood again by the cabalistic diagram on the floor +of the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"You needn't tell me you don't know the power of +figures," exclaimed the good man, "for the cow was just +there!"</p> + +<p>For once, the clergyman said, Satan had done him a +good turn.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="scene_on_country_brook" id="scene_on_country_brook"></a> +<img src="images/image043.jpg" width="600" height="438" alt="SCENE ON COUNTRY BROOK" title="SCENE ON COUNTRY BROOK" /> +<span class="caption">SCENE ON COUNTRY BROOK</span> +</div> + +<p>Nearly all the early letters and poems of Whittier, +written before he gave up every selfish ambition and +devoted his life to philanthropic work, show how great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +was the change that came over his spirit when about +twenty-five years of age. Before that time he imagined +that the world was treating him harshly, and he was bracing +himself for a contest with it, with a feeling that he +was surrounded by enemies. His tone was almost invariably +pessimistic. After the change referred to, he habitually +saw friends on every side, gave up selfish ambitions, +and a cheerful optimism pervaded his outlook upon life. +The following extract from a letter written in April, 1831, +while editing the "New England Review," to a literary +lady in New Haven, is in the prevailing tone of what he +wrote in the earlier period. This letter has only lately +come into my possession, and is now first quoted:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Disappointment in a thousand ways has gone over +my heart, and left it dust. Yet I still look forward with +high anticipations. I have placed the goal of my ambitions +high—but with the blessing of God it shall be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +reached. The world has at last breathed into my bosom +a portion of its own bitterness, and I now feel as if I +would wrestle manfully in the strife of men. If my life is +spared, the world shall know me in a loftier capacity than +<i>as a writer of rhymes</i>. [The italics are his own.] There—is +not that boasting?—But I have said it with a strong +pulse and a swelling heart, and I shall strive to realize +it."</p></div> + +<p>In another letter, written at about the same time to the +same correspondent, he says: "As for tears, I have not +shed anything of the kind since my last flogging under +the birchen despotism of the Nadir Shah of our village +school. I have sometimes wished I <i>could</i> shed tears—especially +when angry with myself or with the world. +There is an iron fixedness about my heart on such occasions +which I would gladly melt away."</p> + +<p>From the birthplace to the Amesbury home is a distance +of nine miles, traversed by electric cars in less than +an hour. Midway is the thriving village of Merrimac, +formerly known as West Amesbury. It was at Birchy +Meadow in this vicinity that Whittier taught his first and +only term of district school, in the winter of 1827-28. +The road is at considerable distance from the Merrimac +River, and at several points it surmounts hills which afford +remarkably fine views of the wide and fertile river valley, +with occasional glimpses of the river itself. At Pond Hills, +near the village of Amesbury, the landscape presented to +view is one of the widest and loveliest in all this region. +It is a panorama of the beautifully rounded hills peculiar +to this section, with a tidal river winding among them with +many a graceful curve. The electric road we have taken +is about two miles from the left bank of the river, across +which we look to the Newbury hills, cultivated to their +tops, with here and there a church spire indicating the +location of the distant villages. Every part of this lovely +valley has been commemorated in Whittier's writings, +prose and verse.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 590px;"> +<a name="sycamores" id="sycamores"></a> +<img src="images/image045.jpg" width="590" height="600" alt="THE SYCAMORES" title="THE SYCAMORES" /> +<span class="caption">THE SYCAMORES</span> +</div> + +<p>If, instead of the trolley, we take the carriage road from +Haverhill along the bank of the river, we soon come to +what are left of "the sycamores," planted in 1739 by +Hugh Tallant, in front of the Saltonstall mansion. This +mansion is now occupied by the Haverhill Historical Society, +and most of the famous row of "Occidental plane-trees" +were cut down many years ago, a sacrifice to street +improvement. Three of the ancient trees still stand, and +will probably round out the second century of their existence. +They are about eighty feet in height, and measure +nearly twenty feet around their trunks. Under these trees +Washington "drew rein," and Whittier repeats the legend +that he said:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I have seen no prospect fairer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this goodly Eastern land."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>About a mile below on the northeasterly side of Millvale, +a hill picturesquely crowned with pines attracts attention. +This is the Ramoth Hill immortalized in the +lovely poem "My Playmate:"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The pines were dark on Ramoth Hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their song was soft and low.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><b>. . . . .</b><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And still the pines of Ramoth wood<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are moaning like the sea,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moaning of the sea of change<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Between myself and thee!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Until recently there has been much doubt as to the location +of Ramoth Hill, Whittier himself giving no definite +answer when asked in regard to it. Indeed, the poem as +originally written had the title "Eleanor," and the hill +was given the name of Menahga. But Mr. J. T. Fields, to +whom the manuscript was submitted, did not like this +name, and Whittier changed it to Ramoth, which suited +his editor's taste. Mr. Alfred A. Ordway, the best authority +on all matters pertaining to Whittier's allusions to +places in this region, has discovered that the name Menahga +was given to this particular hill in Haverhill by +Mrs. Mary S. West of Elmwood, one of a family all the +members of which were dear to Whittier from his boyhood +to the close of his life. A letter of Whittier's to +Mrs. West has come to light, written about the time this +poem was composed, in which he commends the selection +of the name of this hill, and intimates that he shall +use it in a poem.</p> + +<p>On the Country Bridge road, leading from the birthplace +to Rocks Village, is an ancient edifice, known as the +"Old Garrison House," which is of interest to Whittier-Land +pilgrims because it was the home of Whittier's great-grandmother, +Mary Peaslee, who brought Quakerism into +the Whittier family. Thomas Whittier, the pioneer, did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +not belong to the Society of Friends, though favorably +disposed toward the sect. His youngest son, Joseph, +brought the young Quakeress into the family, and their +descendants for several generations, down to the time of +the poet, belonged to the sect founded by her father's +friend, George Fox. Joseph Peaslee built this house with +bricks brought from England before 1675. As it was one +of the largest and strongest houses in the town, in the +time of King Philip's war it was set apart by the town +authorities as a house of refuge for the families of the +neighborhood, and as a rallying point for the troops kept +on the scout. There are many port-holes through its thick +walls.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="old_garrison_house" id="old_garrison_house"></a> +<img src="images/image047.jpg" width="600" height="398" alt="OLD GARRISON HOUSE (PEASLEE HOUSE)" title="OLD GARRISON HOUSE PEASLEE HOUSE" /> +<span class="caption">OLD GARRISON HOUSE (PEASLEE HOUSE)</span> +</div> + +<p>A little farther on we come to Rocks Village, pictured +so perfectly by Whittier in his poem "The Countess," +that it will be at once recognized:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Over the wooded northern ridge,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Between its houses brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the dark tunnel of the bridge<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The street comes straggling down."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> +<p>The bridge across the Merrimac at this point was a covered +and gloomy structure at the time this poem was +written. It has since been partially remodeled, and many +of the houses of the "stranded village," then brown and +paintless, have received modern improvements. But there +is enough of antiquity still clinging to the place to make +it recognizable from Whittier's lines. This was the market +to which the Whittiers brought much of the produce of +their farm to barter for household supplies. This was the +home of Dr. Elias Weld, the "wise old doctor" of "Snow-Bound," +and it was to him "The Countess" was inscribed—the +poem which every year brings many visitors hither, +for the grave of the Countess is near.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="rocks_village" id="rocks_village"></a> +<img src="images/image048.jpg" width="600" height="435" alt="ROCKS VILLAGE AND BRIDGE +Home of the Countess was at further end of the bridge, in house now +standing, afterward occupied by Whittier's benefactor, Dr. Weld." title="ROCKS VILLAGE AND BRIDGE +Home of the Countess was at further end of the bridge, in house now +standing, afterward occupied by Whittier's benefactor, Dr. Weld." /> +<span class="caption">ROCKS VILLAGE AND BRIDGE<br /> +<small>Home of the Countess was at further end of the bridge, in house now +standing, afterward occupied by Whittier's benefactor, Dr. Weld.</small></span> +</div> + +<p>Whittier was still in his teens when this eccentric physician +left Rocks Village and removed to Hallowell, +Maine, and almost half a century had intervened before he +wrote that remarkable tribute to the friend and benefactor +of his youth, which is found in the prelude to "The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +Countess." The good old man died at Hudson, Ohio, a +few months after the publication of the lines that meant +so much to his fame, and it is pleasant to know that they +consoled the last hours of his long life. Whittier did not +know whether or not the benefactor of his boyhood was +living in 1863, when he wrote the poem, as is shown in +the lines:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I know not, Time and Space so intervene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether, still waiting with a trust serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou bearest up thy fourscore years and ten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, called at last, art now Heaven's citizen."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="river_valley_grave_countess" id="river_valley_grave_countess"></a> +<img src="images/image049.jpg" width="600" height="397" alt="RIVER VALLEY, NEAR GRAVE OF COUNTESS + +"For, from us, ere the day was done +The wooded hills shut out the sun. +But on the river's further side +We saw the hill-tops glorified." +The River Path +" title="RIVER VALLEY, NEAR GRAVE OF COUNTESS + +"For, from us, ere the day was done +The wooded hills shut out the sun. +But on the river's further side +We saw the hill-tops glorified." +The River Path +" /> +<span class="caption">RIVER VALLEY, NEAR GRAVE OF COUNTESS<br /> + +<span class="poem"><span class="stanza"> +<small><span class="i14">"For, from us, ere the day was done<br /></span> +<span class="i14">The wooded hills shut out the sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i14">But on the river's further side<br /></span> +<span class="i14">We saw the hill-tops glorified."<br /></span> +<span class="i20">The River Path<br /></span> +</small></span></span></span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 427px;"> +<a name="elias_weld" id="elias_weld"></a> +<img src="images/image050.jpg" width="427" height="600" alt="DR. ELIAS WELD, AT THE AGE OF NINETY" title="DR. ELIAS WELD, AT THE AGE OF NINETY" /> +<span class="caption">DR. ELIAS WELD, AT THE AGE OF NINETY</span> +</div> + +<p>And yet they were in correspondence in the previous year, +as is shown by the fact that I find in an old album of +Whittier's a photograph labeled by him "Dr. Weld," and +this photograph, I am assured by Mrs. Tracy, a grandniece +of Weld, was taken when he was ninety years of +age. I think it probable that the sending of this photograph<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +by the aged physician put Whittier in mind to write +his Rocks Village poem, with the tribute of remembrance +and affection contained in its prelude. As to the ancient +sulky which—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"Down the village lanes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dragged, like a war-car, captive ills and pains,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>it was a chaise with white canvas top, and the doctor +always dressed in gray, and drove a sober white horse. +I have seen a letter of Whittier's written to Dr. Weld, +then at Hallowell, in March, 1828, in which he says: "I +am happy to think that I am not forgotten by those for +whom I have always entertained the most sincere regard. +I recollect perfectly well that (on one occasion in particular) +after hearing thy animated praises of Milton and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +Thomson I attempted to bring a few words to rhyme and +measure; but whether it was poetry run mad, or, as Burns +says, 'something that was rightly neither,' I cannot now +ascertain; I am certain, however, that it was in a great +measure owing to thy admiration of those poets that I +ventured on that path which their memory has hallowed, +in pursuit of—I myself hardly know what—time alone +must determine.... I am a tall, dark-complexioned, and, +I am sorry to say, rather ordinary-looking fellow, bashful, +yet proud as any poet should be, and believing with the +honest Scotchman that 'I hae muckle reason to be thankful +that I am as I am.'"<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> It is of interest further to state +that Whittier's life-long friend and co-laborer in the anti-slavery +field, Theodore D. Weld, was a nephew of "the +wise old doctor." Also that another nephew, who was +adopted as a son by the childless physician, was named +"Greenleaf" for the young poet in whom he took so much +interest. The grave of the Countess in the cemetery near +Rocks Village is now better cared for than when the poem +was written. This is not the cemetery referred to in the +poem "The Old Burying-Ground," which is near the East +Haverhill church.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> +<p>In 1844, Whittier was the Liberty Party candidate for +representative to the General Court from Amesbury, running +against Whig and Democratic candidates. A majority +vote being required there were five attempts to elect, +in each of which Whittier steadily gained, and it was at +last evident he would be elected at the next trial. Whereupon +the two opposing parties united, and the town voted +to have <i>no</i> representative for 1845. This was at the time +of the agitation against the annexation of Texas, and +Whittier was very anxious to be elected. Towns then +paid the salaries of their representatives, and could, if +they chose, remain unrepresented.</p> + +<p>At his last visit to his birthplace, in 1882, Whittier +called my attention to the millstone which serves as a +step at the door of the eastern porch, to which reference +is made on page <a href="#Page_18">18</a>. It was soon after this that he wrote +his fine poem "Birchbrook Mill," one stanza of which was +evidently inspired by noticing this doorstep, and by memories +of the mill of his ancestors on Fernside Brook, the +site of which he had so recently visited:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The timbers of that mill have fed<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Long since a farmer's fires;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His doorsteps are the stones that ground<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The harvest of his sires."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="AMESBURY" id="AMESBURY"></a><big>AMESBURY</big></h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II<br /><br /> + +AMESBURY</h2> + + +<p>Following down the left bank of the river, we come, near +the village of Amesbury, to a sheltered nook between the +steep northern hill and the broad winding river, known as +"Pleasant Valley." At some points there is scant room +for the river road between the high bluff and the water; +at others a wedge of fertile intervale pushes back the +steep bank. The comfortable houses of an ancient Quaker +settlement are perched and scattered along this road in +picturesque fashion. It was a favorite walk of Whittier +and his sister, and it is commemorated in "The River +Path,"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sudden our pathway turned from night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hills swung open to the light;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Through their green gates the sunshine showed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A long, slant splendor downward flowed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Down glade and glen and bank it rolled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It bridged the shaded stream with gold;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And, borne on piers of mist, allied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadowy with the sunlit side!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>When Mr. Whittier returned to Amesbury from the last +visit to his birthplace, referred to in the preceding chapter, +it was by the road passing the Old Garrison House, +the Countess' grave, Rocks Village, and Pleasant Valley. +He pointed out each feature of the scene that reminded +him of earlier days. When we came to Pleasant Valley, +he stopped the carriage at a picturesque wooded knoll +between the road and the river, and said that here he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +used to come with his sister to gather harebells. It was +so late in the season that every other flower by the roadside +had been killed by frost; even the goldenrod was +more sere than yellow. But the harebells were fresh in +their delicate beauty, and he gathered a handful of them +which lighted up his "garden room" for several days. I +remember that on this occasion an effect referred to in +"The River Path" was reproduced most beautifully. The +setting sun, hidden to us, illuminated the hills of Newbury:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A tender glow, exceeding fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dream of day without its glare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With us the damp, the chill, the gloom:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With them the sunset's rosy bloom;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"While dark, through willowy vistas seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The river rolled in shade between."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>To a friend in Brooklyn who inquired in regard to the +origin of this poem, Mr. Whittier wrote: "The little poem +referred to was suggested by an evening on the Merrimac +River, in company with my dear sister, who is no longer +with me, having crossed the river (as I fervently hope) to +the glorified hills of God."</p> + +<p>"The Last Walk in Autumn" is another poem inspired +by the scenery of this locality. At the lower end of this +valley, near the mouth of the Powow, on the edge of the +bluff overlooking the Merrimac, Goody Martin lived more +than two hundred years ago, and the cellar of her house +was still to be seen when, in 1857, Whittier first told the +story of "The Witch's Daughter," the poem now known +as "Mabel Martin." She was the only woman who suffered +death on a charge of witchcraft on the north side of the +Merrimac. One other aged woman in this village was +imprisoned, and would have been put to death, but for the +timely collapse of the persecution. She was the wife of +Judge Bradbury, and lived on the Salisbury side of the +Powow. In his ballad Whittier traces the path he used to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +take towards the Goody Martin place, as was his custom +in many of his ballads. One who desires to take this +path can enter upon it at the Union Cemetery, where the +poet is buried. Follow the "level tableland" he describes +towards the Merrimac, looking down at the left into the +deep and picturesque valley of the Powow,—a charming +view of its placid, winding course after it has made its +plunge of eighty feet over a shoulder of Po Hill,—until +you</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">... "see the dull plain fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sheer off, steep-slanted, ploughed by all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seasons' rainfalls,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and you look down upon the broad Merrimac seeking +"the wave-sung welcome of the sea." Find a path winding +down the bluff facing the river, half-way down to the hat +factory which is close to the water, and you are upon the +location of Goody Martin's cottage. But no trace is now +to be seen of "the cellar, vine overrun" which the poet +describes.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="cursons_mill" id="cursons_mill"></a> +<img src="images/image057.jpg" width="600" height="320" alt="CURSON'S MILL, ARTICHOKE RIVER" title="CURSON'S MILL, ARTICHOKE RIVER" /> +<span class="caption">CURSON'S MILL, ARTICHOKE RIVER</span> +</div> + +<p>I visited the spot with the poet on the October day +before referred to, and noted the felicity of his descriptions +of the locality. It is near the river, but high above<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +it, and one looks <i>down</i> upon the tops of the willows on +the bank:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And through the willow-boughs <i>below</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">She saw the rippled waters shine."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Opposite Pleasant Valley, on the Newbury side of the +river, are "The Laurels," "Curson's Mill," and the mouth +of the Artichoke, celebrated in several poems. In June, +when the laurels are in bloom, this shore is well worth +visiting for its natural beauties, as well as for the association +of Whittier's frequent allusion to it in prose as well +as verse. It was for the "Laurel Party," an annual excursion +of his friends to this shore, that he wrote the poems, +"Our River," "Revisited," and "The Laurels." In "June +on the Merrimac" he sings:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And here are pictured Artichoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Curson's bowery mill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Pleasant Valley smiles between<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The river and the hill."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the stanza preceding this he takes a view down the +Merrimac, past Moulton's Hill in Newbury,—an eminence +commanding one of the finest views on the river, +formerly crowned with a castle-like structure occupied +for several years as the summer residence of Sir Edward +Thornton,—to the great bend the river makes in passing +its last rocky barrier at Deer Island. The Hawkswood +oaks are a magnificent feature of the scene. This estate, +on the Amesbury side of the river, was formerly occupied +by Rev. J. C. Fletcher, of Brazilian fame.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The Hawkswood oaks, the storm-torn plumes<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of old pine-forest kings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath whose century-woven shade<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Deer Island's mistress sings."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="deer_island" id="deer_island"></a> +<img src="images/image059.jpg" width="600" height="339" alt="DEER ISLAND AND CHAIN BRIDGE" title="DEER ISLAND AND CHAIN BRIDGE" /> +<span class="caption">DEER ISLAND AND CHAIN BRIDGE</span> +</div> + +<p>The Merrimac, beautiful as are its banks along its entire +course, nowhere presents more picturesque scenery +than where it passes through the deep valley it has worn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +for itself between the hills of Amesbury and Newbury, +and especially where its tidal current is parted by the +perpendicular cliffs of Deer Island. At this point the +quaint old chain bridge, built about a century ago, spans +the stream. This island is the home of Harriet Prescott +Spofford, who is referred to in the stanza just quoted. +About forty years ago, it was proposed to build a summer +hotel on this island, which is four or five miles from the +mouth of the Merrimac. I have found among Mr. Whittier's +papers an unfinished poem, protesting against what +he considered a desecration of this spot which always +had a great charm for him. It is likely that the reason +why this poem was never finished or published was because +the project of building a hotel was abandoned. I +have taken the liberty to give as a title for it "The Plaint +of the Merrimac." As it was written in almost undecipherable +hieroglyphics, some of the words are conjectural:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I heard, methought, a murmur faint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our River making its complaint;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Complaining in its liquid way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus it said, or seemed to say:<br /></span> +</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'What 's all this pother on my banks—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Squinting eyes and pacing shanks—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peeping, running, left and right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With compass and theodolite?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Would they spoil this sacred place?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blotch with paint its virgin face?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do they—is it possible—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do they dream of a hotel?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Match against my moonlight keen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their tallow dip and kerosene?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Match their low walls, plaster-spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my blue dome overhead?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Bring their hotel din and smell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where my sweet winds blow so well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my birches dance and swing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While my pines above them sing?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'This puny mischief has its day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Nature's patient tasks alway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Begin where Art and Fashion stopped,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'ergrow, and conquer, and adopt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Still far as now my tide shall flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While age on age shall come and go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor lack, through all the coming days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grateful song of human praise.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Before the chain bridge was built, a ferry was maintained +at the mouth of the Powow, and here Washington +crossed the river at his last visit to New England. It is +said that a French ship lay at the wharf near the ferry, +and displayed the French flag over the American because +of the French feeling against the policy of Washington's +administration. Washington refused to land until the +obnoxious flag was lowered to its proper place.</p> + +<p>It was a one-story cottage on Friend Street, Amesbury, +to which the Whittiers came in July, 1836—a cottage +with but four rooms on the ground floor, and a chamber +in the attic. The sum paid for this cottage, with about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +an acre of land, was twelve hundred dollars. The Haverhill +farm was sold for three thousand dollars. Accustomed +to the comparatively large ancestral home at Haverhill, +it is no wonder that there was at first a feeling of homesickness, +as is evidenced in the diary kept by Elizabeth. +This feeling was naturally intensified by the prolonged +absences of her brother, who from 1836 to 1840 was away +from home most of the time, engaged with his duties as +secretary of the anti-slavery society in New York, and as +editor of the "Pennsylvania Freeman" in Philadelphia. +During these years, the only occupants of the cottage were +Whittier's mother, his sister Elizabeth, and his aunt Mercy, +except when his frequent illnesses, and his interest in the +political events of the North Essex congressional district, +called him home. But in 1840, his residence in Amesbury +became permanent. At about this time he made the tour +of the country with the English philanthropist, Joseph +Sturge, who noticed his straitened circumstances, and out +of the largeness of his heart, in a most delicate way, not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +only gave him financial assistance at the time, but seven +years later enabled him to build a two-story ell to the +cottage, and add a story to the eastern half of the original +structure. A small ell of one story, occupying part of the +space of the present "garden room," was built by Mr. Whittier +when he bought the cottage in 1836, and this was aunt +Mercy's room. At the later enlargement of the house this +small room was lengthened, and a chamber built over it. +In the lower floor of this enlarged ell is the room which +has ever since been known as the "garden room," because +it was built into the garden, and a much prized fruit tree +was sacrificed to give it place. The chamber over this +room was occupied by Elizabeth until her death in 1864, +and after that by Mr. Whittier.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="whittier_home_amesbury" id="whittier_home_amesbury"></a> +<img src="images/image061.jpg" width="600" height="425" alt="THE WHITTIER HOME, AMESBURY" title="THE WHITTIER HOME, AMESBURY" /> +<span class="caption">THE WHITTIER HOME, AMESBURY</span> +</div> + +<p>While repairs were making in this part of the house in +the summer of 1903, a package of old letters was found +in the wall, bearing the date of 1847, the year when the +enlargement was made. One of them reveals the source +of the money required for the improvement. It was from +Lewis Tappan of New York, the financial backbone of +the anti-slavery society, inclosing a check for arrears of +salary due Whittier for editorial work. Mr. Tappan writes: +"I will ask the executive committee to raise the compensation. +I wish we could pay you according to the real value +of your productions, rather than according to their length.... +Inclosed is a check for one hundred dollars. Mr. +Sturge authorizes me to draw on him for one thousand +dollars at any time when you and I should think it could +be judiciously invested in real estate for your family. I +can procure the money in a week by drawing on him. +When you have made up your mind as to the investment, +please let me know."</p> + +<p>At this time the poet was feeling the pinch of real poverty +and was living in a little one-story cottage that gave +him no room for a study, and no suitable chamber for a +guest. It was at this time that he received the letter which +contained not only a check for overdue salary, but a promise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +of a gift of one thousand dollars from his generous +English friend, Joseph Sturge. The result of this beneficence +was the building of the "garden room," to which +thousands of visitors come from all parts of this and other +countries, because in it were written "Snow-Bound," "The +Eternal Goodness," and most of the poems of Whittier's +middle life and old age. Mr. Sturge had sent Whittier six +years earlier a draft for one thousand dollars, intending +it should be used by him in traveling for his health. +But Whittier had given most of this toward the support +of an anti-slavery paper in New York. Two years later +the same generous friend offered to pay all his expenses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +if he would come to England as his guest, an offer he was +obliged to decline. A portrait of Sturge is appropriately +placed in this room. Tappan's letter was written April 21, +1847, and the addition to the cottage was built in the +summer of that year. The whole expense of the improvement +was no doubt covered by Sturge's gift. Other interesting +letters of the same period were included in the +package in the wall.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 325px;"> +<a name="joseph_sturge" id="joseph_sturge"></a> +<img src="images/image063.jpg" width="325" height="450" alt="JOSEPH STURGE, THE ENGLISH PHILANTHROPIST + + +"The very gentlest of all human natures +He joined to courage strong." +In Remembrance of Joseph Sturge" title="JOSEPH STURGE, THE ENGLISH PHILANTHROPIST + + +"The very gentlest of all human natures +He joined to courage strong." +In Remembrance of Joseph Sturge" /> +<span class="caption">JOSEPH STURGE, THE ENGLISH PHILANTHROPIST<br /> + + +<span class="poem"><span class="stanza"> +<small><span class="i2">"The very gentlest of all human natures<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He joined to courage strong."<br /></span> +<span class="i6 smcap">In Remembrance of Joseph Sturge<br /></span> +</small></span></span></span></div> + + +<p>In a drawer of the desk is a most remarkable album +of autographs of public men, presented to Mr. Whittier +on his eightieth birthday, by the Essex Club. It is a +tribute to the poet signed by every member of the United +States Senate and House of Representatives, the Supreme +Court of the United States, the Governor, ex-Governors, +and Supreme Court of Massachusetts, and all the members +of the Essex Club; also, many distinguished citizens, +such as George Bancroft (who adds to his autograph +"with special good wishes to the coming octogenarian"), +Robert C. Winthrop, Frederick Douglass, and J. G. +Blaine. An eloquent speech of Senator Hoar, who suggested +this unique tribute, is engrossed in the exquisite +penmanship of a colored man, to whom was intrusted +the ornamental pen-work of the whole volume. The congressional +signatures were obtained by Congressman +Coggswell of the Essex district. It is noticeable that no +Southern member declined to sign this tribute to one so +identified with the anti-slavery movement.</p> + +<p>The "garden room" remains almost precisely as when +occupied by the poet—the same chairs, open stove, +books, pictures, and even wall-paper and carpet, remaining +in it as he placed them. In the north window the +flowers pressed between the plates of glass are those +on receipt of which he wrote "The Pressed Gentian." By +the desk is the cane he carried for more than fifty years, +made of wood from his office in Pennsylvania Hall, burned +by a pro-slavery mob in 1838. This is the cane for which +he wrote the poem "The Relic:"—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And even this relic from thy shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O holy Freedom! hath to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A potent power, a voice and sign<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To testify of thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, grasping it, methinks I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A deeper faith, a stronger zeal."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="garden_room_amesbury" id="garden_room_amesbury"></a> +<img src="images/image065.jpg" width="600" height="419" alt="THE "GARDEN ROOM," AMESBURY HOME" title="THE "GARDEN ROOM," AMESBURY HOME" /> +<span class="caption">THE "GARDEN ROOM," AMESBURY HOME</span> +</div> + +<p>He had many canes given him, some valuable, but this +plain stick was the only one he ever carried. With this +cane may be seen one made of oak from the cottage of +Barbara Frietchie—not, as was erroneously stated in +the biography, a cane carried by the patriotic Barbara. +The portraits he hung in this room are of Garrison, +Thomas Starr King, Emerson, Longfellow, Sturge, "Chinese" +Gordon, and Matthew Franklin Whittier. There +is also a fine picture of his birthplace, a water-color sent +him by Bayard Taylor from the most northern point in +Norway, and a picture, also sent by Bayard Taylor, of the +Rock in El Ghor, on receipt of which the poem of that +title was written. The Norway picture was painted by Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +Taylor, and represents the surroundings of the northernmost +church in the world. The mirror in this room is an +heirloom of the Whittier family, dating at least a century +before the birth of the poet. The little table under it is +almost equally old.</p> + +<p>The album containing the likeness of Dr. Weld has +also a photograph under which Whittier has written +"Mary E. S. Thomas," and this has a special interest, as +it is a portrait of his relative, schoolmate, and life-long +friend, Mary Emerson Smith, who became the wife of +Judge Thomas of Covington, Ky. She was a granddaughter +of Captain Nehemiah Emerson, who fought at +Bunker Hill, was an officer in the army of Washington, +serving at Valley Forge and at the surrender of Burgoyne, +and her grandmother was Mary Whittier—a +cousin of the poet's father, whom Whittier used to call +"aunt Mary." For a time, when in his teens, he stayed +at Captain Emerson's, and went to school from there, making +himself useful in doing chores. Mary Smith, then a +young girl, passed much of her time at her grandfather's, +and later was a fellow-student of Whittier's at the Academy. +I think there is now no impropriety in stating that +it is to her that the poem "Memories" refers.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> She was +living at the time when the biography of Whittier was +written, and for that reason her name was not given, but +only a veiled reference in "Life and Letters," as at page +276. During many years of her widowhood she spent the +summer months in New England, and occasionally met +Mr. Whittier at the mountains. They were in friendly +correspondence to the close of his life. She survived him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +several years. It has been suggested with some show of +probability that it is a memory of the days they spent together +at her grandfather's that is embodied in the poem +"My Playmate." At the time when this poem was written +she was living in Kentucky.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She lives where all the golden year<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her summer roses blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dusky children of the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Before her come and go."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But this poem, like others of Whittier's, is probably a +composite of memories and largely imaginative, as is +shown in what is elsewhere said about the localities of +Ramoth Hill and Folly Mill.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 411px;"> +<a name="mary_emerson_smith_thomas" id="mary_emerson_smith_thomas"></a> +<img src="images/image067.jpg" width="411" height="450" alt="MARY EMERSON (SMITH) THOMAS" title="MARY EMERSON (SMITH) THOMAS" /> +<span class="caption">MARY EMERSON (SMITH) THOMAS</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 315px;"> +<a name="evelina_bray_17" id="evelina_bray_17"></a> +<img src="images/image068.jpg" width="315" height="450" alt="EVELINA BRAY, AT THE AGE OF SEVENTEEN" title="EVELINA BRAY, AT THE AGE OF SEVENTEEN" /> +<span class="caption">EVELINA BRAY, AT THE AGE OF SEVENTEEN</span> +</div> + +<p>In the "garden room" also is a miniature on ivory of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +a beautiful girl of seventeen, crowned with roses. This is +Evelina Bray of Marblehead, a classmate of Whittier's at +the Academy in the year 1827, when this portrait was +painted. But for adverse circumstances, the school acquaintance +which led to a warm attachment between them +might have resulted in marriage. But the case was hopeless +from the first. He was but nineteen years old, and +she seventeen. On both sides the families opposed the +match. Among the Quakers marriage "outside of society" +was not to be thought of in those days; in his case it +would mean the breaking up of a family circle dependent +on him, and a severance from his loved mother and sister. +This same reason prevented the ripening of other attachments<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +in later life; for in each case his choice would +have been "out of society." Two or three years after +they parted at the close of +an Academy term, he walked +from Salem to Marblehead +before breakfast on a June +morning, to see his schoolmate. +He was then editing +the "American Manufacturer," +in Boston. She could +not invite him in, and they +walked to the old ruined fort, +and sat on the rocks overlooking +the beautiful harbor. +This meeting is commemorated +in three stanzas of one +of the loveliest of his poems, +"A Sea Dream"—a poem, +by the way, not as a whole +referring to Marblehead or to the friend of his youth. +But I have good authority for the statement that these +three stanzas refer directly to the Marblehead incident. +All who are familiar with the locality will recognize it in +these verses:—</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 287px;"> +<a name="whittier_22" id="whittier_22"></a> +<img src="images/image069.jpg" width="287" height="400" alt="WHITTIER, AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-TWO" title="WHITTIER, AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-TWO" /> +<span class="caption">WHITTIER, AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-TWO</span> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The waves are glad in breeze and sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The rocks are fringed with foam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I walk once more a haunted shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A stranger, yet at home,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A land of dreams I roam.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Is this the wind, the soft sea-wind<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That stirred thy locks of brown?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are these the rocks whose mosses knew<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The trail of thy light gown,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where boy and girl sat down?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I see the gray fort's broken wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The boats that rock below;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And, out at sea, the passing sails<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We saw so long ago<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rose-red in morning's glow."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>With a single exception, these schoolmates did not meet +again for more than fifty years, and Whittier was never +aware of this exception. In middle life, when the poet +was editing the "Pennsylvania Freeman," and Miss Bray +was engaged with Catherine Beecher in educational work, +they once happened to sit side by side in the pew of a +Philadelphia church, but he left without recognizing her, +and she was too shy to speak to him. I had the story +from a lady who as a little girl sat in the pew with them, +and knew them both. Miss Bray married an Englishman +named Downey, and in a romantic way<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> Mr. Whittier +discovered her address. Mr. Downey was an evangelist +making a crusade in the great cities against Romanism, +and met his death from wounds received in facing a New +York mob. Whittier, supposing he was poor, and that his +schoolmate was having a hard time, sent Downey money +without her knowledge. She accidentally discovered this +and returned the money. In her widowhood she occasionally +corresponded with Mr. Whittier, who induced her to +come to the reunion of his schoolmates in 1885, more +than fifty years after their parting at Marblehead, and +more than forty years after the chance meeting in Philadelphia.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +At this reunion she gave him the miniature +reproduced in our engraving, which was returned to her +after Whittier's death. When she died it went to another +schoolmate, the wife of Rev. Dr. S. F. Smith, author of +our national hymn. From her it came to Whittier's niece, +and is now kept in the drawer where the poet originally +placed it. With it is the first portrait ever taken of Whittier—it +being painted by the same artist (J. S. Porter) +two or three years after the girl's miniature, while he was +editing the "Manufacturer."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 343px;"> +<a name="evelina_bray_downey" id="evelina_bray_downey"></a> +<img src="images/image071.jpg" width="343" height="450" alt="EVELINA BRAY DOWNEY" title="EVELINA BRAY DOWNEY" /> +<span class="caption">EVELINA BRAY DOWNEY</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> +<p>Here is an extract from a note Whittier sent Mrs. +Downey soon after the reunion: "Let me thank thee for +the picture thee so kindly left with me. The sweet, lovely +girl face takes me back to the dear old days, as I look at +it. I wish I could give thee something half as valuable in +return." The portrait of Mrs. Downey at the age of eighty, +here given, is from a photograph she contributed to an +album presented to Whittier by his schoolmates of 1827, +after the reunion of 1885. Rev. Dr. S. F. Smith attended +this reunion in place of his wife, who was then an invalid, +and he wrote to his wife this account of the appearance +of her old schoolmate at that meeting: "She looked, O so +<i>distingué</i>, in black silk, with a white muslin veil, reaching +over the silver head and down below the shoulders. Just +as if she were a Romish Madonna, who had stepped out +from an old church painting to hold an hour's communion +with earth."</p> + +<p>I was in correspondence with Mrs. Downey during the +last years of her life, but she would not give me permission +to call upon her, and the reason given was that I had seen +the miniature, and she preferred to be remembered by that. +She was very shy about telling of her early acquaintance +with Whittier, and whatever I could learn was by indirection. +For instance, I obtained the Marblehead story by +her sending me a copy of Whittier's poems which he had +given her, and she had drawn a line around the stanzas +quoted above. No word accompanied the book. Of course +I guessed what she meant, and asked if my guess was correct. +She replied "Yes," and no more. Whittier said he +had the Captain Ireson story from a schoolmate who came +from Marblehead. I asked her if she, as the only Marblehead +schoolmate, was the person referred to, and received +an emphatic "No." To an intimate friend she once said +that during her early acquaintance with Whittier it seemed +as if the devil kept whispering to her, "He is only a shoemaker!"</p> + +<p>The apartment now used as a reception room was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +kitchen of the original cottage, and has the large fireplace +and brick oven that were universal in houses built a +century ago. A small kitchen was later built as an ell, +and this central room became the dining room, remaining +so as long as Mr. Whittier lived. In the reception +room is a large bookcase filled with a part of the poet's +library, exactly as when he was living here. His books +overrun all the rooms in the house, and many are packed +in closets. The large engraving of Lincoln over the mantel +is an artist's proof, and was placed there by Whittier +forty years ago. An ancient mirror in this room, surmounted +by a gilt eagle, was broken by a lightning stroke +in September, 1872. The track of the electrical current +may still be seen in the blackening of a gilt moulding in +the upper left corner. The broken glass fell over a member +of the family sitting under it, and Whittier himself, +who was standing near the door of the "garden room," was +thrown to the floor. All in the house were stunned and +remained deafened for several minutes, but no one was +seriously injured. Up to that time the house had been +protected by lightning rods; but Mr. Whittier now had +them removed, and refused to have them replaced, though +much solicited by agents. In revenge, one of the persistent +brotherhood issued a circular having a picture of +this house with a thunderbolt descending upon it, as an +awful warning against neglect! He had the impudence to +emphasize his fulmination by printing a portrait of the +poet, who, it was intimated, would yet be punished for +defying the elements.</p> + +<p>The old parlor, the principal room of the original cottage, +has suffered no change in the several remodelings of +the house. The beams in the corners show a frame of the +olden style—for the cottage had been built many years +when the Whittiers came here. The clear pine boards +in the dado are two feet in width. In this room are placed +many memorials of the poet of interest to visitors. What +to him was the most precious thing in the house is the portrait<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +of his mother over the mantel—a work of art that +holds the attention of the most casual visitor. The likeness +to her distinguished son is remarked by all. One sees +strength of character in the beautiful face, and a dignity +that is softened by sweetness and serenity of spirit. The +plain lace cap, white kerchief, drab shawl, and folded hands +typify all the Quaker virtues that were preëminently hers.</p> + +<p>On the opposite wall is the crayon likeness of Elizabeth, +the dearly loved sister, so tenderly apostrophized in +"Snow-Bound:"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I cannot feel that thou art far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since near at need the angels are;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the sunset gates unbar,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall I not see thee waiting stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, white against the evening star,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The welcome of thy beckoning hand?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>When she died, in 1864, her friend, Lucy Larcom, had +this excellent portrait made and presented it to the bereaved +brother, and it has hung on this wall nearly forty +years. All the other members of the "Snow-Bound" family +are here represented by portraits, except the father and +uncle Moses, of whom no likenesses exist, save as found +in the poet's lines. The Hoit portrait of Whittier, painted +when he was about forty years of age, was kept out of +sight in a seldom-used chamber, while the poet was living, +for he allowed no picture of himself to be prominently +displayed. The portrait of his brother was painted when +he was about forty years of age. A small photograph of +his older sister, Mary Caldwell, is shown, and a silhouette +of aunt Mercy; also a portrait of his brother's daughter, +Elizabeth (Mrs. Pickard), who was a member of his household +for twenty years, and to whom he left this house and +its contents by his will. Her son Greenleaf, to whom +when four years of age his granduncle inscribed the +poem "A Name," now resides here.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 363px;"> +<a name="mrs_pickard" id="mrs_pickard"></a> +<img src="images/image075.jpg" width="363" height="450" alt="MRS. PICKARD" title="MRS. PICKARD" /> +<span class="caption">MRS. PICKARD</span> +</div> + +<p>In this parlor is the desk on which "Snow-Bound" was +written, also "The Tent on the Beach" and other poems of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +this period. The success of these poems enabled him to +buy a somewhat better desk, now to be seen in the "garden +room," where this desk formerly stood. In this desk are +presentation copies of many books, with the autographs +of their authors—Harriet Beecher Stowe, Lydia Maria +Child, Miss Mitford, Julia Ward Howe, John Hay, T. B. +Aldrich, and others. Here also is the diary kept by Elizabeth +Whittier, in the years 1835-37, covering the period +of the removal from Haverhill to Amesbury. Of antiquarian +interest is an account-book of the Whittier family, +from 1786 to 1800, going into minute details of household +expenses, and containing many times repeated the autographs +of Whittier's grandfather, his father, and his uncles +Moses and Obadiah, who recorded their annual settlements +of accounts in this book. Near the desk are bound<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +volumes of papers edited by Whittier—the "New England +Review" of 1830, the "Pennsylvania Freeman" of 1840, +and the "National Era" of 1847-50. These contain much +of his prose and verse never collected. The Rogers group +of statuary representing Whittier, Beecher, and Garrison +listening to the story of a fugitive slave girl, who holds +an infant in her arms, is in the corner of the room, where +it has been for about thirty years. The garden, in the +care of which Mr. Whittier took much pleasure, comprises +about one half acre of land. He had peach, apple, and +pear trees—but the peaches gave out and were not renewed. +He also raised grapes, quinces, and small fruit +in abundance. The rosebush he prized as his mother's +favorite is still flourishing, as are also the fine magnolia, +laburnum, and cut-leaved birch of his planting. The ash +tree in front of the house was planted by his mother.</p> + +<p>While gathering grapes in an arbor in this garden, in +1847, Mr. Whittier received a bullet wound in the cheek. +Two boys were firing at a mark on the grounds of a +neighbor, and this mark was near where Whittier stood, +but on account of a high fence they did not see him. +When the bullet struck him, he was so concerned lest his +mother should be alarmed by the accident that he said +nothing, not even notifying the boys. He bound up his +bleeding face in a handkerchief and called on Dr. Sparhawk, +who lived near. As soon as the wound was dressed, +he came home and gave his family their first notice of the +accident. The boys had not then learned the result of +their carelessness. The lad who fired the gun was named +Philip Butler, and he has since acquired a high reputation +as an artist. The painting representing the Haverhill +homestead which is to be seen at the birthplace was executed +by this artist. He tells of the kindness with which +Whittier received his tearful confession. It was during +the first days of the Mexican war, and some of the papers +humorously commented upon it as a singular fact that +the first blood drawn was from the veins of a Quaker who +had so actively opposed entering upon that war.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="scene_garden_whittiers_funeral" id="scene_garden_whittiers_funeral"></a> +<a href="images/image076a.jpg"> +<img src="images/image076.jpg" width="600" height="345" alt="SCENE IN GARDEN, AT WHITTIER'S FUNERAL" title="SCENE IN GARDEN, AT WHITTIER'S FUNERAL" /></a> +<span class="caption">SCENE IN GARDEN, AT WHITTIER'S FUNERAL</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> +<p>Once while his guest at Amesbury, I went with him to +town meeting. He was one of the first men in the town to +vote that morning, and after voting spent an hour talking +politics with his townsmen. General C., his candidate for +Congress, had been intemperate, and the temperance men +were making that excuse for voting in favor of Colonel F., +who, Whittier said, always drank twice as much as C., but +was harder headed and stood it better. Other candidates +were being scratched for reasons as flimsy, and our Grand +Old Man was getting disgusted with the Grand Old Party, +as represented at that meeting. He said to a friend he +met, "The Republicans are scratching like wild cats." +In the evening an old friend and neighbor called on him, +and was complaining of Blaine and other party leaders. +At last Mr. Whittier said, "Friend Turner, has thee met +many angels and saints in thy dealings with either of the +parties? Thy experience should teach thee not to expect +too much of human nature." On the same evening he told +of a call Mr. Blaine made upon him some time previously. +The charm of his manner, he said, recalled that of Henry +Clay, as he remembered him. On that occasion Blaine +made a suggestion for the improvement of a verse in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +poem "Among the Hills," which Whittier adopted. The +verse is descriptive of a country maiden, who was said +to be</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Not beautiful in curve and line."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Blaine suggested as an amendment,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Not <i>fair alone</i> in curve and line;"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and this is the reading in the latest editions.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="ferry_salisbury_point" id="ferry_salisbury_point"></a> +<img src="images/image077.jpg" width="600" height="287" alt="THE FERRY, SALISBURY POINT +Mouth of Powow in foreground at the right hidden by its own banks in +this picture. Hawkswood in distance at extreme right." title="THE FERRY, SALISBURY POINT +Mouth of Powow in foreground at the right hidden by its own banks in +this picture. Hawkswood in distance at extreme right." /> +<span class="caption">THE FERRY, SALISBURY POINT<br /> +<small>Mouth of Powow in foreground at the right hidden by its own banks in +this picture. Hawkswood in distance at extreme right.</small></span> +</div> + +<p>Thomas Wentworth Higginson, during his residence +in Newburyport, was often a guest at the Amesbury home, +and he has this to say of each member of the family: +"The three members of the family formed a perfect combination +of wholly varying temperaments. Mrs. Whittier +was placid, strong, sensible, an exquisite housekeeper +and 'provider;' it seems to me that I have since seen +no whiteness to be compared to the snow of her table-cloths +and napkins. But her soul was of the same hue; +and all worldly conditions and all the fame of her children—for +Elizabeth Whittier then shared the fame—were to +her wholly subordinate things, to be taken as the Lord +gave. On one point only this blameless soul seemed to +have a shadow of solicitude, this being the new wonder +of Spiritualism, just dawning on the world. I never went +to the house that there did not come from the gentle lady, +very soon, a placid inquiry from behind her knitting-needles, +'Has thee any farther information to give in regard +to the spiritual communications, as they call them?' +But if I attempted to treat seriously a matter which then, +as now, puzzled most inquirers by its perplexing details, +there would come some keen thrust from Elizabeth Whittier +which would throw all serious solution further off than +ever. She was indeed a brilliant person, unsurpassed in +my memory for the light cavalry charges of wit; as unlike +her mother and brother as if she had been born into a +different race. Instead of his regular features she had a +wild, bird-like look, with prominent nose and large liquid +dark eyes, whose expression vibrated every instant between<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +melting softness and impetuous wit; there was +nothing about her that was not sweet and kindly, but you +were constantly taxed to keep up with her sallies and hold +your own; while her graver brother listened with delighted +admiration, and rubbed his hands over bits of merry sarcasm +which were utterly alien to his own vein."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="powow_river_po_hill" id="powow_river_po_hill"></a> +<img src="images/image079.jpg" width="600" height="415" alt="POWOW RIVER AND PO HILL" title="POWOW RIVER AND PO HILL" /> +<span class="caption">POWOW RIVER AND PO HILL</span> +</div> + +<p>The village of Amesbury enjoyed a sense of proprietorship +in Whittier which it never lost, even when Danvers +claimed him for a part of each year. He did not give up +the old house, consecrated by memories of his mother and +sister, but returned to it oftener and oftener in his last +years, and he hoped that he might spend his last days on +earth where his mother and sister died. The feeling of the +people of Amesbury was expressed in a poem written by +a neighbor, and published in the village paper, under the +title of "Ours," some stanzas of which are here given:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I say it softly to myself,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I whisper to the swaying flowers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he goes by, ring all your bells<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of perfume, ring, for he is ours.<br /></span> +</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ours is the resolute, firm step,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ours the dark lightning of the eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rare sweet smile, and all the joy<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of ownership, when he goes by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><b>. . . . .</b><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I know above our simple spheres<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His fame has flown, his genius towers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are for glory and the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But he himself is only ours."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="friends_meeting-house" id="friends_meeting-house"></a> +<img src="images/image080.jpg" width="600" height="443" alt="FRIENDS' MEETING-HOUSE AT AMESBURY" title="FRIENDS' MEETING-HOUSE AT AMESBURY" /> +<span class="caption">FRIENDS' MEETING-HOUSE AT AMESBURY</span> +</div> + +<p>The Friends' meeting-house, in 1836, was nearly opposite +the Whittier cottage, on the site of the present French +Catholic church. Two centuries ago there had been an +earlier meeting-house of the Society, also on Friend +Street, and the name of the street was given on this account. +The present meeting-house, on the same street, +was built in 1851, upon plans made by Mr. Whittier, who +was chairman of the committee having it in charge. He +once told me that some conservative Friends were worried +lest he make the house too ornate. To satisfy them,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +he employed three venerable carpenters, one of them a +Quaker minister and the other two elders of the Society, +and the result was this perfectly plain, neat structure, +comfortable in all its appointments. Visitors like to find +the seat usually occupied by Whittier. It is now marked +by a silver plate. I have accompanied him to a First Day +service here, in which for a half hour no one was moved +to say a word. And this was the kind of service he much +preferred to one in which the time was "fully occupied." +The meeting was dismissed without a spoken word, the +signal being the shaking of hands by two of the elders +on the "facing seats." Then each worshiper shook the +hand of the person next him. There was no sudden separation. +The company formed itself into groups for a +pleasant social reunion. In the group that surrounded +Whittier were ten or twelve octogenarians, whom he told<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +me he had met in this way almost every week since his +boyhood; for even when living in Haverhill, this was the +meeting his family attended. It was delightful to see the +warmth and tenderness of the greetings of these venerable +life-long friends. I once accompanied him to a devotional +meeting, where many of the leading Friends of the +Society were present, and as the papers had announced +the names of several speakers from distant States, he expressed +the fear that there would be no opportunity to +get "into the quiet." As the speakers followed each +other in rapid succession, he asked me if I had a bit of +paper and a pencil with me. Then he appeared to be +taking notes of the proceedings. I fancied some of the +speakers noticed his pencil, and were spurred by it to +an enlargement of utterance. When we were at home, +I asked what he had written. He smiled and handed +me his "notes," which are before me as I write. "Man +spoke," "Woman sang," "Man prayed," and so on for no +less than fourteen items. Being slightly deaf, he had heard +scarcely anything, and had been noting the number and +variety of the performances. It was his protest against +much speaking. At dinner the same day, his cousin, Joseph +Cartland, commented upon the inarticulate sounds +that accompanied the remarks of one or two of the speakers. +"Let us shame them out of it," he said, "let's call +it grunting." "Oh, no, Joseph," said Whittier, "don't thee +do that—take away the grunt, and nothing is left!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="interior_friends_meeting-house" id="interior_friends_meeting-house"></a> +<img src="images/image081.jpg" width="600" height="492" alt="INTERIOR OF FRIENDS' MEETING-HOUSE +Whittier's usual seat marked, on left side, near "facing seats."" title="INTERIOR OF FRIENDS' MEETING-HOUSE +Whittier's usual seat marked, on left side, near "facing seats."" /> +<span class="caption">INTERIOR OF FRIENDS' MEETING-HOUSE<br /> +<small>Whittier's usual seat marked, on left side, near "facing seats."</small></span> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Whittier had many wonderful stories illustrating the +guidance of the spirit to which members of the Society of +Friends submitted in the daily intercourse of life. One was +of an aged Friend, who never failed to attend meeting on +First Day. But one morning he told his wife that he was +impelled to take a walk instead of going to meeting, and he +knew not whither he should go. He went into the country +some distance and came to a lane which led to a house. +He was impressed to take this lane, and soon reached a +house where a funeral service was in progress. At the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +close of the service he arose, and said that he knew nothing +of the circumstances connected with the death of +the young woman lying in the casket, but he was impelled +to say that she had been accused of something of +which she was not guilty, and the false accusation had hastened +her death. Then he added that there was a person +in the room who knew she was not guilty, and called upon +this person, whoever it might be, to vindicate the character +of the deceased. After a solemn pause, a woman arose +and confessed she had slandered the dead girl. In telling +such stories as this, Mr. Whittier did not usually express +full and unreserved belief in their truth, but he maintained +the attitude of readiness to believe anything of +this kind which was well authenticated, and he approved +of the methods of work adopted by the Society for Psychical +Research in England and in this country.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="captains_well" id="captains_well"></a> +<img src="images/image083.jpg" width="600" height="434" alt="CAPTAIN'S WELL" title="CAPTAIN'S WELL" /> +<span class="caption">CAPTAIN'S WELL</span> +</div> + +<p>The hills encircling the lovely valley of the short and +busy Powow River, beginning with the southwestern extremity +of the amphitheatre, are: Bailey's, on the declivity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +of which, overlooking the Merrimac, is the site of +Goody Martin's cottage, the scene of the poem of "Mabel +Martin;" next is the ridge on which is the Union +Cemetery where Whittier is buried; then Whittier Hill, +named not for the poet but for his first American ancestor +who settled here, and locally called "Whitcher Hill"—showing +the ancient pronunciation of the name; then, +across the Powow, are Po, Mundy, Brown's, and Rocky +hills. On a lower terrace of the Union Cemetery ridge, +and near the cemetery, is the Macy house, built before +1654 by Thomas Macy, first town clerk of Amesbury (and +ancestor of Edwin M. Stanton, the great war secretary), +who was driven from the town for harboring a proscribed +Quaker in 1659, as told in the poem "The Exiles;"<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> +also, the birthplace of Josiah Bartlett, first signer of +the Declaration of Independence after Hancock, whose +statue, given by Jacob R. Huntington, a public-spirited +citizen of Amesbury, stands in Huntington Square; and +near by is "The Captain's Well," dug by Valentine Bagley +in pursuance of a vow, as told in Whittier's poem; +also the Home for Aged Women, for which Whittier left +by his will nearly $10,000. It is to a view of Newburyport +as seen from Whittier Hill, a distance of five miles, +that the opening lines of "The Preacher" refer:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Far down the vale, my friend and I<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beheld the old and quiet town;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ghostly sails that out at sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flapped their white wings of mystery;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beaches glimmering in the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the low wooded capes that run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the sea-mist north and south;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sand-bluffs at the river's mouth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The swinging chain-bridge, and, afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The foam line of the harbor-bar."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The cemetery in which Whittier is buried can be reached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +by either the electric line from Merrimac, or the one from +Newburyport—the latter approaching nearest the part in +which is the Whittier lot. This lot is in the section reserved +for the Society of Friends, and is surrounded +by a well-kept hedge of arbor vitæ. Here is buried +each member of the family commemorated in the poem +"Snow-Bound," and also the niece of the poet, who was +for twenty years a member of his household. There is a +row of nine plain marble tablets, much alike, with Whittier's +slightly the largest. At the corner where his brother +is buried is a tall cedar, and at the foot of his own grave +is another symmetrical tree of the same kind. Between +him and his brother lie their father and mother, their two +sisters, their uncle Moses and aunt Mercy. His niece, +daughter of his brother, has a place by his side. Inclosed +by the same hedge is the burial lot of his dearly-loved +cousin, Joseph Cartland. For those who take note of +dates it may be said that his father died in 1830, and not, +as stated on his headstone, one year later.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="whittier_lot" id="whittier_lot"></a> +<img src="images/image085.jpg" width="600" height="403" alt="WHITTIER LOT, UNION CEMETERY, AMESBURY" title="WHITTIER LOT, UNION CEMETERY, AMESBURY" /> +<span class="caption">WHITTIER LOT, UNION CEMETERY, AMESBURY</span> +</div> + +<p>Po Hill, originally called Powow, because of the tradition<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +that the Indians used to hold their powwows upon its +summit, is three hundred and thirty-two feet high, and +commands a view so extended that many visitors make +the ascent. One of Whittier's early prose legends is of a +bewitched Yankee whose runaway horse took him to the +top of this hill into a midnight powwow of Indian ghosts. +In describing the hill he says: "It is a landmark to the +skippers of the coasting craft that sail up Newburyport +harbor, and strikes the eye by its abrupt elevation and +orbicular shape, the outlines being as regular as if struck +off by the sweep of a compass." From it in a clear day +may be seen Mount Washington, ninety-eight miles away; +the Ossipee range; Passaconaway; Whiteface; Kearsarge +in Warner; Monadnock; Wachusett; Agamenticus and +Bonny Beag in Maine; the Isles of Shoals with White +Island light; Boon Island in Maine; and nearer at hand +Newburyport with its harbor and bay; Plum Island; Cape +Ann; Salisbury and Hampton beaches; Boar's Head and +Little Boar's Head; Crane Neck and many other of the +beautiful hills of Newbury, Rowley, Ipswich, and Danvers. +The view of Cape Ann as seen from Po Hill is +referred to by Whittier at the opening of the poem "The +Garrison of Cape Ann:"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"From the hills of home forth looking, far beneath the tent-like span<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the sky, I see the white gleam of the headland of Cape Ann."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Down the south side of the Po flows the Powow River in +a series of cascades, the finest of which are now hidden +by the mills, or arched over by the main street of the +village of Amesbury. The hill is celebrated in several +of Whittier's poems, including "Abram Morrison," "Miriam," +and "Cobbler Keezar's Vision." The Powow, a +little way above its plunge over the rocks where it gives +power for the mills, flows in front of the Whittier home, +and but the width of a block distant. The surface of +its swift current is but a few feet below the level of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +Friend Street. Po Hill rises steeply from its left bank. The +Powow is mentioned in the poem "The Fountain:"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Where the birch canoe had glided<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Down the swift Powow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark and gloomy bridges strided<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Those clear waters now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where once the beaver swam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jarred the wheel and frowned the dam."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 434px;"> +<a name="fountain_mundy_hill" id="fountain_mundy_hill"></a> +<img src="images/image087.jpg" width="434" height="500" alt="THE FOUNTAIN, ON MUNDY HILL" title="THE FOUNTAIN, ON MUNDY HILL" /> +<span class="caption">THE FOUNTAIN, ON MUNDY HILL</span> +</div> + +<p>"The Fountain" is a spring that may be found on +the western side of Mundy Hill. The oak mentioned in +this poem is gone, and a willow takes its place. The +Rocky Hill meeting-house is well worth the attention of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +visitors, as a well-preserved specimen of the meeting-houses +of the olden time. Its pulpit, pews, and galleries +retain their original form as when built in 1785. It is situated +on the easternmost of the fine circlet of hills that +incloses the valley of the Powow. This hill is well named, +for here the melting glaciers left their most abundant deposit +of boulders. A trolley line from Amesbury to Salisbury +Beach passes this venerable edifice.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="rocky_hill_church" id="rocky_hill_church"></a> +<img src="images/image088.jpg" width="600" height="387" alt="ROCKY HILL CHURCH, BUILT IN 1785" title="ROCKY HILL CHURCH, BUILT IN 1785" /> +<span class="caption">ROCKY HILL CHURCH, BUILT IN 1785</span> +</div> + +<p>Salisbury Beach, now covered with summer cottages, +will hardly be recognized as the place described by Whittier +in his "Tent on the Beach." When that poem was +written, not one of these hundreds of cottages was built, +and those who encamped here brought tents. Hampton +Beach is a continuation of Salisbury Beach beyond the +state line into New Hampshire. It has given its name to +one of the most notable of Whittier's poems, and several +ballads refer to it. "The Wreck of Rivermouth" has for +its scene the mouth of the Hampton River, which, winding +down from the uplands across salt meadows, and +dividing this beach, finds its outlet to the sea. At the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +northern end of the beach is the picturesque promontory +of Boar's Head, and eastward are seen the Isles of Shoals, +and in the further distance the blue disk of Agamenticus. +Whittier describes the place with his usual exactness:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And fair are the sunny isles in view<br /></span> +<span class="i1">East of the grisly Head of the Boar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Agamenticus lifts its blue<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Disk of a cloud the woodlands o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And southerly, when the tide is down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt white sea-waves and sand-hills brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beach-birds dance and the gray gulls wheel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over a floor of burnished steel."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="interior_rocky_hill_church" id="interior_rocky_hill_church"></a> +<img src="images/image089.jpg" width="600" height="435" alt="INTERIOR OF ROCKY HILL CHURCH" title="INTERIOR OF ROCKY HILL CHURCH" /> +<span class="caption">INTERIOR OF ROCKY HILL CHURCH</span> +</div> + +<p>Rev. J. C. Fletcher, in an article published in 1879, +says that he was with Whittier at Salisbury Beach, in +the summer of 1861, when he saw the remarkable mirage +commemorated in these lines in "The Tent on the +Beach:"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">"Sometimes, in calms of closing day,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They watched the spectral mirage play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw low, far islands looming tall and nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ships, with upturned keels, sail like a sea the sky."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="mouth_hampton_river" id="mouth_hampton_river"></a> +<img src="images/image090.jpg" width="600" height="369" alt="MOUTH OF HAMPTON RIVER +Scene of "The Wreck of Rivermouth"" title="MOUTH OF HAMPTON RIVER +Scene of "The Wreck of Rivermouth"" /> +<span class="caption">MOUTH OF HAMPTON RIVER<br /> +<small>Scene of "The Wreck of Rivermouth"</small></span> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Fletcher was spending several weeks that summer +with his family in a tent on the beach. He says: "Here we +were visited by friends from Newburyport and Amesbury. +None were more welcome than Whittier and his sister, +and two nieces, one of whom, Lizzie, as we called her, +had the beautiful eyes—the grand features in both the +poet and his sister. Those eyes of his sister Elizabeth +are most touchingly alluded to by Whittier when he refers +to his sister's childhood in the old Snow-bound homestead:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Lifting her large, sweet, asking eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Now bathed in the unfading green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And holy peace of Paradise.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"One day, late in the afternoon, I recall how Elizabeth was +enjoying a cup of tea in the family tent, while Whittier +and myself were seated upon a hillock of sand outside. +It had been a peculiarly beautiful day, and as the sun +began to decline, the calm sea was lit up with a dreamy +grandeur wherein there seemed a mingling of rose-tint and +color of pearls. All at once we noticed that the far-off<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +Isles of Shoals, of which in clear days only the lighthouse +could be seen, were lifted into the air, and the vessels +out at sea were seen floating in the heavens. Whittier +told me that he never before witnessed such a sight. We +called to the friends in the tent to come and enjoy the +scene with us. Elizabeth Whittier was then seeing from +the shore the very island, reduplicated in the sky, where +two years afterwards she met that fatal accident which, +after months of suffering, terminated her existence."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 462px;"> +<a name="salisbury_beach_before_cottages" id="salisbury_beach_before_cottages"></a> +<img src="images/image091.jpg" width="462" height="600" alt="SALISBURY BEACH, BEFORE THE COTTAGES WERE BUILT +Scene of "The Tent on the Beach"" title="SALISBURY BEACH, BEFORE THE COTTAGES WERE BUILT +Scene of "The Tent on the Beach"" /> +<span class="caption">SALISBURY BEACH, BEFORE THE COTTAGES WERE BUILT<br /> +<small>Scene of "The Tent on the Beach"</small></span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> +<p>Elizabeth fell upon the rocks at Appledore in August, +1863. It was not thought at the time that she was seriously +injured, and perhaps Mr. Fletcher is wrong in attributing +her death solely to this cause. For many years +before and after the death of his sister, Mr. Whittier spent +some days each summer at Appledore. It was at his insistence +that Celia Thaxter undertook her charming book, +"Among the Isles of Shoals."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="hampton_river_marshes" id="hampton_river_marshes"></a> +<img src="images/image092.jpg" width="600" height="426" alt="HAMPTON RIVER MARSHES" title="HAMPTON RIVER MARSHES" /> +<span class="caption">HAMPTON RIVER MARSHES</span> +</div> + +<p>Other ballads of this region are "The Changeling," +and "The New Wife and the Old." The ancient house +which is the scene of the last named poem is still standing, +and may be seen by passengers on the Boston and +Maine road, near the Hampton station. It has a gambrel +roof, and is on the left when the train is going westward. +On the right as the train passes Hampton Falls station +may be seen in the distance, shaded by magnificent elms, +the house of Miss Gove, in which Whittier died. It was +upon these broad meadows and the distant line of the +beach that his eyes rested, when he took his last look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +upon the scenery he loved and has so faithfully pictured +in his verse. The photographs here reproduced were taken +by his grandnephew a few days before his death, and the +last time he stood on the balcony where his form appears. +The room in which he died opens upon this balcony. It +was his cousin, Joseph Cartland, who happened to stand +by his left side when the picture was taken. This house +is worthy of notice aside from its connection with Whittier, +as one of the finest specimens of colonial architecture, +its rooms filled with the furniture and heirlooms of +the ancestors of the present proprietor. A trolley line +from Amesbury now passes the house.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="house_miss_gove" id="house_miss_gove"></a> +<img src="images/image093.jpg" width="600" height="468" alt="HOUSE OF MISS GOVE, HAMPTON FALLS" title="HOUSE OF MISS GOVE, HAMPTON FALLS" /> +<span class="caption">HOUSE OF MISS GOVE, HAMPTON FALLS</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="chamber_died" id="chamber_died"></a> +<img src="images/image094.jpg" width="600" height="365" alt="CHAMBER IN WHICH WHITTIER DIED" title="CHAMBER IN WHICH WHITTIER DIED" /> +<span class="caption">CHAMBER IN WHICH WHITTIER DIED</span> +</div> + +<p>As a coincidence that was at the time considered singular, +the superstition in regard to the matter of thirteen +at table was recalled when Whittier dined for the last +time with his friends. During the summer he had lodged +at the house of Miss Gove, taking his meals with others +of his party in a house adjoining. One evening all had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +taken their places at the table except Mr. Whittier. His +niece noticed there were twelve seated, and without comment +took her plate to a small table in a corner of the +room. When her uncle came in, he said in a cheery way, +"Why, Lizzie, what has thee been doing, that they put +thee in the corner?" Some evasive reply was made, but +probably Mr. Whittier guessed the reason, for he was +well versed in such superstitions, and sometimes laughingly +heeded them. In a few minutes, Mr. Wakeman, +the Baptist clergyman of the village, just returned from +his summer vacation, came in unexpectedly, and took the +thirteenth seat that had just been vacated. Whittier's +grandnephew, to again break the omen, took his plate +over to the table in the corner with his mother. It was +all done in a playful way, but the matter was recalled +while we were at breakfast next morning. The news then +came of the paralysis which had affected Mr. Whittier +while dressing to join us. He never again came to the +dining room. Another incident of the same evening was +more impressive, and remains to this day inexplicable. +After sitting for a while in the parlor conversing with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +friends, he took his candle to retire, and as he said "Goodnight" +to his friends, and passed out of the door, an old +clock (the clock over the desk) struck once! It had not +been wound up for years, and as no one present had ever +before heard it strike, it excited surprise—the more so +as the hands were not in position for striking. It was +an incident that had a marked effect upon a party little +inclined to heed omens; and in many ways, without success, +we tried to get the clock to strike once more.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="amesbury_library" id="amesbury_library"></a> +<img src="images/image095.jpg" width="600" height="392" alt="AMESBURY PUBLIC LIBRARY" title="AMESBURY PUBLIC LIBRARY" /> +<span class="caption">AMESBURY PUBLIC LIBRARY</span> +</div> + +<p>A beautiful little lake in the northern part of Amesbury, +formerly known as Kimball's Pond, is the scene of +"The Maids of Attitash." Its present name was conferred +by Whittier because huckleberries abound in this +region, and Attitash is the Indian name for this berry. +His poem pictures the maidens with "baskets berry-filled," +watching</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">... "in idle mood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gleam and shade of lake and wood."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In a letter to the editor of "The Atlantic" inclosing this +ballad, he says of Attitash: "It is as pretty as St. Mary's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +Lake which Wordsworth sings, in fact a great deal prettier. +The glimpse of the Pawtuckaway range of mountains +in Nottingham seen across it is very fine, and it has +noble groves of pines and maples and ash trees." A +trolley line from Amesbury to Haverhill passes this lake; +but this is not the line which passes the Whittier birthplace.</p> + +<p>Annually, in the month of May, the Quarterly Meeting +of the Society of Friends is held at Amesbury, and during +the fifty-six years of Mr. Whittier's residence in the village, +this was an occasion on which he kept open house, +and wherever he happened to be, he came home to enjoy +the company of friends, giving up all other engagements. +He could not be detained in Boston or Danvers, or wherever +else he might be, when the time for this meeting +approached. It was an annual event in which his mother +and sister took much interest, and after they passed away, +the custom was maintained with the same spirit of hospitality +with which they had invested it, to the last year +of his life.</p> + +<p>Among Mr. Whittier's neighbors was an aged pair, a +brother and sister, whose simple, old-fashioned ways and +quaint conversation he much enjoyed. He thought they +worked harder than they had need to do, as the infirmities +of age fell upon them, for they had accumulated a +competency, and on one occasion he suggested that they +leave for younger hands some of the labor to which they +had been accustomed. But the sister said, "We must lay +by something for our last sickness, and have enough left +to bury us." Whittier replied, "Mary, did thee ever know +any one in his last sickness to stick by the way for want +of funds?" The beautiful public library of Amesbury +was built with the money of this aged pair, whose will was +made at the suggestion of Whittier. Part of the money +Whittier left to hospitals and schools would have been +given to this library, had he not known that it was provided +for by his generous neighbors.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 460px;"> +<a name="whittier_49" id="whittier_49"></a> +<img src="images/image097.jpg" width="460" height="600" alt="WHITTIER AT THE AGE OF FORTY-NINE" title="WHITTIER AT THE AGE OF FORTY-NINE" /> +<span class="caption">WHITTIER AT THE AGE OF FORTY-NINE</span> +</div> + +<p>In his poem "The Common Question," Whittier refers +to a saying of his pet parrot, "Charlie," a bird that +afforded him much amusement, and sometimes annoyance, +by his tricks and manners. His long residence in this +Quaker household had the effect to temper his vocabulary, +and he almost forgot some phrases his ungodly captors +had taught him. But there would be occasional relapses. +He had the freedom of the house, for Whittier +objected to having him caged. One Sunday morning, +when people were passing on the way to meeting, Charlie +had gained access to the roof, and mounted one of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +chimneys. There he stood, dancing and using language +he unfortunately had not quite forgotten, to the amazement +of the church-goers! Whatever Quaker discipline +he received on this occasion did not cure him of the +chimney habit, but some time later he was effectually +cured; for while dancing on this high perch he fell down +one of the flues and was lost for some days. At last his +stifled voice was heard in the parlor, in the wall over the +mantel. A pole was let down the flue and he was rescued, +but so sadly demoralized that he could only faintly +whisper, "What does Charlie want?" He died from the +effect of this accident, but we will not dismiss him without +another story in which he figures: He had the bad +habit of nipping at the leg of a person whose trousers +happened to be hitched above the top of the boot. One +day Mr. Whittier was being worn out by a prosy harangue +from a visitor who sat in a rocking-chair, and swayed +back and forth as he talked. As he rocked, Whittier +noticed that his trousers were reaching the point of danger, +and now at length he had something that interested +him. Charlie was sidling up unseen by the orator. There +was a little nip followed by a sharp exclamation, and the +thread of the discourse was broken! The relieved poet +now had the floor as an apologist for his discourteous +parrot.</p> + +<p>At a time when Salmon P. Chase was in Lincoln's Cabinet, +but was beginning to think of the possibility of supplanting +him at the next presidential election, he visited +Massachusetts, and called upon his old anti-slavery friend, +Mr. Whittier. Chase told him among other things that +he did not like Abraham Lincoln's stories. Whittier said, +"But do they not always have an application, like the +parables?" "Oh, yes," said Chase, "but they are not +decent like the parables!"</p> + +<p>Henry Taylor was a village philosopher of Amesbury +given to the discussion of high themes in a somewhat +eccentric manner, and Whittier had a warm side for such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +odd characters. Once when Emerson was his guest, he +invited Taylor to meet him, knowing that the Concord +philosopher would be amused if not otherwise interested +in his Amesbury brother. Taylor found him a good listener, +and gave him the full benefit of his theories and +imaginings. Next morning Whittier called on him to inquire +what he thought of Emerson. "Oh," said he, "I +find your friend a very intelligent man. He has adopted +some of my ideas."</p> + +<div class=" +figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="wood_giant" id="wood_giant"></a> +<img src="images/image099.jpg" width="600" height="341" alt="THE WOOD GIANT, AT STURTEVANT'S, CENTRE HARBOR + +"Alone, the level sun before; +Below, the lake's green islands; +Beyond, in misty distance dim, +The rugged Northern Highlands." +" title="THE WOOD GIANT, AT STURTEVANT'S, CENTRE HARBOR + +"Alone, the level sun before; +Below, the lake's green islands; +Beyond, in misty distance dim, +The rugged Northern Highlands." +" /> +<span class="caption">THE WOOD GIANT, AT STURTEVANT'S, CENTRE HARBOR<br /> + + +<span class="poem"><span class="stanza"> +<small><span class="i12">"Alone, the level sun before;<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Below, the lake's green islands;<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Beyond, in misty distance dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i14">The rugged Northern Highlands."<br /></span> +</small></span></span> +</span></div> + +<p>The likeness of Whittier on page <a href="#Page_97">97</a> is from a daguerreotype +taken in October, 1856, and has never before been +published in any volume written by or about the poet. +Mr. Thomas E. Boutelle, the artist who took this daguerreotype, +is now living in Amesbury at the age of eighty-five. +He tells me how he happened to get this picture,—a +rather difficult feat, as it was hard to induce the poet to +sit for his portrait. He had set up a daguerrean saloon in +the little square near Whittier's house, and Whittier often<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +came in for a social chat, but persistently refused to give +a sitting. One day he came in with his younger brother +Franklin, whose picture he wanted. When it was finished, +Franklin said, "Now, Greenleaf, I want your picture." +After much persuasion Greenleaf consented, and Mr. +Boutelle showed him the plate before it was fully developed, +with the remark that he thought he could do better +if he might try again. By this bit of strategy he secured +the extra daguerreotype here reproduced, but he took care +not to show it in Amesbury, for fear Whittier would call +it in. He took it to Exeter, N. H., and put it in a show-case +at his door. His saloon was burned, and all he saved +was this show-case and the daguerreotype, which many of +the poet's old friends think to be his best likeness of that +period.</p> + +<p>Several of Whittier's poems referring to New Hampshire +scenery celebrate particular trees remarkable for age and +size. For these giants of the primeval forest he ever had +a loving admiration. The great elms that shade the house +in which he died would no doubt have had tribute in verse +if his life had been spared. He invited the attention of +every visitor to them. The immense pine on the Sturtevant +farm, near Centre Harbor, called out a magnificent +tribute in his poem "The Wood Giant." Our engraving +on page <a href="#Page_99">99</a> gives some idea of "the Anakim of pines." +There is a grove at Lee, N. H., on the estate of his dearly-loved +cousins, the Cartlands, to which he refers in his +poem "A Memorial:"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Green be those hillside pines forever,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And green the meadowy lowlands be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And green the old memorial beeches,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Name-carven in the woods of Lee!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>There is a "Whittier Elm" at West Ossipee, and indeed +wherever he chose a summer resort, some wood giant still +bears his name.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="cartland_house" id="cartland_house"></a> +<img src="images/image101.jpg" width="600" height="437" alt="THE CARTLAND HOUSE, NEWBURYPORT +Where Whittier spent the last winter of his life. A century ago the +residence of the father of Harriet Livermore." title="THE CARTLAND HOUSE, NEWBURYPORT +Where Whittier spent the last winter of his life. A century ago the +residence of the father of Harriet Livermore." /> +<span class="caption">THE CARTLAND HOUSE, NEWBURYPORT<br /> +<small>Where Whittier spent the last winter of his life. A century ago the +residence of the father of Harriet Livermore.</small></span> +</div> + +<p>Visitors to Whittier-Land will find an excursion to Oak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +Knoll, in Danvers, to be full of interest. Here the poet, +after the marriage of his niece, spent a large part of each +of the last fifteen years of his life in the family of his +cousins, the Misses Johnson and Mrs. Woodman. Without +giving up his residence in Amesbury, where his house +was always kept open for him during these years by Hon. +George W. Cate, he found in the beautiful seclusion of +the fine estate at Oak Knoll a restful and congenial home. +Many souvenirs of the poet are here treasured, and the +historical associations of the place are worthy of note. +Here lived the Rev. George Burroughs, who suffered death +as a wizard more than two centuries ago. He was a man +of immense strength of muscle, and his astonishing athletic +feats were cited at his trial as evidence of his dealings +with the Evil One. The well of his homestead is shown +under the boughs of an immense elm, and the canopy now +over it was the sounding-board of the pulpit of an ancient<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +church of the parish so unenviably identified with the +witchcraft delusion.</p> + +<p>Inquiries are sometimes made in regard to the places +in Boston associated with the memory of Whittier. His +first visit to the city was in his boyhood, when he came as +the guest of Nathaniel Greene, a distant kinsman of his, +who was editor of the "Statesman" and postmaster of +Boston. Many of his earliest poems were published in the +"Statesman" under assumed names, and until lately never +recognized as his. Not one of these juvenile productions, +of which I have happened upon many specimens, was ever +collected. When he was editing the "Manufacturer," he +boarded with the publisher of that paper, Rev. Mr. Collier, +at No. 30 Federal Street. When visiting Boston in +middle life, he felt most at home in the old Marlboro +Hotel on Washington Street. He would often leave the +hotel for a morning walk, and find a hearty welcome at +the breakfast hour from his dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. +James T. Fields, at No. 148 Charles Street. In later life, +at the home of Governor Claflin, at No. 63 Mount Vernon +Street, he was frequently an honored guest. It was here +he first met Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, who gives this account +of their meeting: "On this morning he came in +across the thick carpet with that nervous but soft step +which every one who ever saw him remembers. Straight +as his own pine tree, high of stature, and lofty of mien, +he moved like a flash of light or thought. The first impression +which one received was of such eagerness to see +his friends that his heart outran his feet. He seemed +to suppose that he was receiving, not extending the benediction; +and he offered the delicate tribute to his friend +of allowing him to perceive the sense of debt. It would +have been the subtlest flattery, had he not been the most +honest and straightforward of men. We talked—how can +I say of what? Or of what not? We talked till our heads +ached and our throats were sore; and when we had finished +we began again. I remember being surprised at his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +quick, almost boyish, sense of fun, and at the ease with +which he rose from it into the atmosphere of the gravest, +even the most solemn, discussion. He was a delightful +converser, amusing, restful, stimulating, and inspiring +at once." The winter of 1882-83 he spent at the Winthrop +Hotel, on Bowdoin Street, where the Commonwealth +Hotel now stands.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="whitefields_church" id="whitefields_church"></a> +<img src="images/image103.jpg" width="600" height="421" alt="WHITEFIELD'S CHURCH AND BIRTHPLACE OF GARRISON" title="WHITEFIELD'S CHURCH AND BIRTHPLACE OF GARRISON" /> +<span class="caption">WHITEFIELD'S CHURCH AND BIRTHPLACE OF GARRISON</span> +</div> + +<p>A visit to Whittier-Land is incomplete if Old Newbury +and Newburyport (originally one town) are left out of the +itinerary. At the celebration of the two hundred and fiftieth +anniversary of the settlement of Newbury, in 1885, +a letter from Whittier was read in which he recites some +of the reasons for his interest in the town. He says: "Although +I can hardly call myself a son of the ancient town, +my grandmother, Sarah Greenleaf of blessed memory, was +its daughter, and I may therefore claim to be its grandson. +Its genial and learned historian, Joshua Coffin, was my +first school-teacher, and all my life I have lived in sight +of its green hills, and in hearing of its Sabbath bells. Its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +history and legends are familiar to me.... The town +took no part in the witchcraft horror, and got none of +its old women and town charges hanged for witches. +'Goody' Morse had the spirit rappings in her house two +hundred years earlier than the Fox girls did, and somewhat +later a Newbury minister in wig and knee-buckles +rode, Bible in hand, over to Hampton to lay a ghost who +had materialized himself and was stamping up and down +stairs in his military boots.... Whitefield set the example +since followed by the Salvation Army, of preaching in its +streets, and now lies buried under one of the churches with +almost the honor of sainthood. William Lloyd Garrison +was born in Newbury. The town must be regarded as +the Alpha and Omega of the anti-slavery agitation."</p> + +<p>The grandmother to whom he refers was born in that +part of the town nearest to his own birthplace. The outlet +to Country Brook is nearly opposite the Greenleaf +place, and Whittier's poem "The Home-Coming of the +Bride" describes the crossing of the river and the bridal +procession up the valley of the lesser stream, a part of +which is known as Millvale because of the mills alluded +to in the poem.</p> + +<p>The house in which Garrison was born is on School +Street next to the Old South meeting-house, in which +Whitefield preached, and under the pulpit of which his +bones are deposited. Whitefield died in the house next +to Garrison's birthplace. The ancient Coffin house, built +in 1645, the home of Joshua Coffin, to whom Whittier addressed +his poem "To My Old Schoolmaster," is on High +Street, about half a mile below State Street. Whittier's +cousins, Joseph and Gertrude Cartland, with whom he +spent a large part of the last year of his life, lived at +No. 244 High Street, at the corner of Broad.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> +<h2><big>WHITTIER'S SENSE OF HUMOR</big></h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III<br /><br /> + +WHITTIER'S SENSE OF HUMOR</h2> + + +<p>Few men of his day, of equal prominence, have been +so greatly misunderstood as Whittier by the public which +knows him only by the writings he allowed to be published. +These reveal him on the one hand as an earnest reformer +bitterly denouncing the sins of a guilty people, and on +the other as a prophet of God, with a message of cheer +to those who turn them from their evil ways. While +slavery existed, he lashed the institution with a whip of +scorpions, and in later years, in poems of exquisite sweetness, +he sang of "The Eternal Goodness," and brought +words of consolation and hope to despairing souls. In +the popular mind there has been built up for him a reputation +for extreme seriousness and even severity. To be +sure, some of the poems in his collected works have witty +and even merry lines, but they usually have a serious +purpose. The real fun and frolic of his nature were +known only to those privileged with his intimacy. He +delighted at times in throwing off his mantle of prophecy, +and unbending even to jollity, in his home life and among +friends. The presence of a stranger was a check to such +exuberance. And it was not from any unsocial habit that +he fell into this restraint. It was because he found that +the unguarded words of a public man are often given a +weight they were not intended to bear. If he unbent as +one might whose every word has not come to be thought +of value, it led to misunderstandings. In his home and +among near friends he revealed a charming readiness to +engage in lively and frolicsome conversation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> +<p>Some stories illustrating his keen sense of humor, and +specimens of verse written in rollicking vein for special +occasions, which might not properly find place in a serious +attempt at biography, I have thought might be allowed +in such an informal work as this. Few of the lines +I shall here give have ever appeared in any of his collected +works, and some of them were never before in +print. I am sure I do no wrong to his memory in thus +bringing out a phase of his character which could not be +fully treated in biography.</p> + +<p>I never heard him laugh aloud, but a merrier face and +an eye that twinkled with livelier glee when thoroughly +amused are not often seen. He would double up with +mirth without uttering a sound,—his chuckle being visible +instead of audible,—but this peculiar expression of +jollity was irresistibly infectious. The faculty of seeing +the humorous side of things he considered a blessing to +be coveted, and he had a special pity for that class of +philanthropists who cannot find a laugh in the midst of +the miseries they would alleviate. A laugh rested him, +and any teller of good stories, any writer of lively adventures, +received a hearty greeting from him. He told +Dickens that his "Pickwick Papers" had for years been +his remedy for insomnia, and Sam Weller had helped him +to many an hour of rested nerves. He loved and admired +Longfellow and Lowell, and they were his most cherished +friends, but the lively wit of Holmes had a special charm +for him, and jolly times they had whenever they met. +The witty talk and merry letters of Gail Hamilton, full +as they were of a mad revelry of nonsense, were a great +delight to him. It was not in praise of but in pity for +Charles Sumner that he wrote:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No sense of humor dropped its oil<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On the hard ways his purpose went;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Small play of fancy lightened toil;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He spake alone the thing he meant."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>As an illustration of his own way of speaking the thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +he did <i>not</i> mean, just for fun, take the following: More +than thirty years ago, a Division of the Sons of Temperance +was organized in Amesbury, and his niece, one of +his household, joined it. Her turn came to edit a paper +for the Division, and she asked her uncle to contribute +something. He had often complained in a laughing way +in regard to the late hours of the club, and had threatened +to lock her out. This accounts for the tone of the +following remarkable contribution to temperance literature +from one of the oldest friends of the cause:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="title"> +THE DIVISION</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dogs take it! Still the girls are out,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Said Muggins, bedward groping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"'T is twelve o'clock, or thereabout,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all the doors are open!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll lock the doors another night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And give to none admission;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Better to be abed and tight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than sober at Division!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Next night at ten o'clock, or more<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or less, by Muggins's guessing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He went to bolt the outside door,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lo! the key was missing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He muttered, scratched his head, and quick<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He came to this decision:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Here 's something new in 'rithmetic,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Subtraction by Division!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And then," said he, "it puzzles me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I cannot get the right on 't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why temperance talk and whiskey spree<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alike should make a night on 't.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">D 'ye give it up?" In Muggins's voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was something like derision—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"It 's just because between the boys<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And girls there 's no Division!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 546px;"> +<a name="bearcamp_house" id="bearcamp_house"></a> +<img src="images/image110.jpg" width="546" height="600" alt="BEARCAMP HOUSE, WEST OSSIPEE, N. H." title="BEARCAMP HOUSE, WEST OSSIPEE, N. H." /> +<span class="caption">BEARCAMP HOUSE, WEST OSSIPEE, N. H.</span> +</div> + +<p>Whittier's favorite way of enjoying his annual vacation +among the mountains was to go with a party of his relatives<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +and neighbors, and take possession of a little inn at +West Ossipee, known as the "Bearcamp House." Sturtevant's, +at Centre Harbor, was another of his resorts. At +these places his party filled nearly every room. It was +made up largely of young people, full of frolic and love of +adventure. The aged poet could not climb with them to +the tops of the mountains; but he watched their going and +coming with lively interest, and of an evening listened to +their reports and laughed over the effervescence of their +enthusiasm. Two young farmers of West Ossipee, brothers +named Knox, acted as guides to Chocorua. They had +some success as bear hunters, and supplied the inn with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +bear steaks. One day in September, 1876, the Knox +brothers took a party of seven of Whittier's friends to the +top of Chocorua, where they camped for the night among +the traps that had been set for the bears. They heard the +growling of the bears in the night, so the young ladies +reported, with other blood-curdling incidents. Soon after +the Knox brothers gave a husking at their barn,<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> and the +whole Bearcamp party was invited. Whittier wrote a poem +for the occasion, and induced Lucy Larcom to read it for +him as from an unknown author, although he sat among +the huskers. It was entitled:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="title"> +HOW THEY CLIMBED CHOCORUA</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unto gallant deeds belong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poet's rhyme and singer's song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor for lack of pen or tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should their praises be unsung,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Who climbed Chocorua!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O full long shall they remember<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wild nightfall of September,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When aweary of their tramp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They set up their canvas camp<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the hemlocks of Chocorua.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There the mountain winds were howling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There the mountain bears were prowling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through rain showers falling drizzly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glared upon them, grim and grisly,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The ghost of old Chocorua!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the rocks with night mist wetted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keen his scalping knife he whetted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the ruddy firelight dancing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the brown locks of Miss Lansing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Tempted old Chocorua.<br /></span> +</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But he swore—(if ghosts can swear)—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"No, I cannot lift the hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that pale face, tall and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for <i>her</i> sake, I will spare<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The sleepers on Chocorua."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up they rose at blush of dawning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Off they marched in gray of morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Following where the brothers Knox<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Went like wild goats up the rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of vast Chocorua.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the mountain shadow bald fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Merry faced went Addie Caldwell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Miss Ford, as gay of manner,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if thrumming her piano,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sang along Chocorua.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Light of foot, of kirtle scant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tripped brave Miss Sturtevant;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While as free as Sherman's bummer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the rations foraged Plummer,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On thy slope, Chocorua!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Panting, straining up the rock ridge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How they followed Tip and Stockbridge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till at last, all sore with bruises,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up they stood like the nine Muses,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On thy crown, Chocorua!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At their shout, so wild and rousing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every dun deer stopped his browsing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the black bear's small eyes glistened,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As with watery mouth he listened<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To the climbers on Chocorua.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All the heavens were close above them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But below were friends who loved them,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at thought of Bearcamp's worry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down they clambered in a hurry,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Scurry down Chocorua.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sore we miss the steaks and bear roast—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But withal for friends we care most;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give the brothers Knox three cheers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who to bring us back our <i>dears</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Left bears on old Chocorua!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="group_sturtevants" id="group_sturtevants"></a> +<img src="images/image113.jpg" width="600" height="365" alt="GROUP AT STURTEVANT'S, CENTRE HARBOR +Gertrude Cartland at Whittier's left, Mrs. Wade and Joseph Cartland at +his right. Mrs. Caldwell, wife of Whittier's nephew, at his left shoulder." title="GROUP AT STURTEVANT'S, CENTRE HARBOR +Gertrude Cartland at Whittier's left, Mrs. Wade and Joseph Cartland at +his right. Mrs. Caldwell, wife of Whittier's nephew, at his left shoulder." /> +<span class="caption">GROUP AT STURTEVANT'S, CENTRE HARBOR<br /> +<small>Gertrude Cartland at Whittier's left, Mrs. Wade and Joseph Cartland at +his right. Mrs. Caldwell, wife of Whittier's nephew, at his left shoulder.</small></span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> +<p>The next day after the husking, Lucy Larcom and some +others of the party prepared a burlesque literary exercise +for the evening at the inn. She wrote a frolicsome poem, +and others devised telegrams, etc., all of which were to +surprise Whittier, who was to know nothing of the affair +until it came off. When the evening came, the venerable +poet took his usual place next the tongs, and the rest of +the party formed a semicircle around the great fireplace. +On such occasions Whittier always insisted on taking +charge of the fire, as he did in his own home. He +even took upon himself the duty of filling the wood-box. +No one in his presence dared to touch the tongs. By and +by telegrams began to be brought in by the landlord from +ridiculous people in ridiculous situations. Some purported +to come from an old poet who had the misfortune to be +caught by his coat-tails in one of the Knox bear-traps on +Chocorua. It was suggested that he might be the author +of the poem read at the husking. Lucy Larcom, who, by +the way, was another of the writers popularly supposed to +be very serious minded, but who really was known among +her friends as full of fun, read a poem addressed to the +man in the bear-trap, entitled:—</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="title"> +TO THE UNKNOWN AND ABSENT AUTHOR OF<br /> +"HOW THEY CLIMBED CHOCORUA"</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O man in the trap, O thou poet-man!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What on airth are you doin'?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We haste to the husking as fast as we can,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">—But where 's Mr. Bruin?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We listen, we wait for his sweet howl in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the far storm resounding.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brothers Knox ne'er will see Mr. Bruin again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the dim moonlight bounding.<br /></span> +</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For, thou man in the trap, O thou poet-y-man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scared to flight by thy singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away through the mountainous forest he ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a hurricane winging.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aye, the bear fled away, and his traps left behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the use of the poet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If an echo unearthly is borne on the wind—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'T is the man's—you may know it<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By its tones of dismay, melancholy and loss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er his coat-tails' sad ruin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's a moan in the pine, and a howl o'er the moss—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But it 's he—'t is n't Bruin!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the fire you see on the cliff in the air<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is his eye-balls a-glarin'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the form that you call old Chocorua there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the poet up-rarin'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And whenever the trees on the mountain-tops thrill<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the fierce winds they blow 'em,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In most awful pause every bear shall stand still—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 's writing a poem!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Whittier evidently enjoyed the fun, and after the rest had +had their say, he remarked, "That old fellow in the bear-trap +must be <i>in extremis</i>. He ought to make his will. +Suppose we help him out!" He asked one of us to get +pencil and paper and jot down the items of the will, each +to make suggestions. It ended, of course, in his making +the whole will himself, and doing it in verse. It is perhaps +the only poem of his which he never wrote with +his own hand. It came as rapidly as the scribe could take +it. Every one at that fireside was remembered in this +queer will—even the "boots" of the inn, the stage-driver, +and others who were looking upon the sport from the +doorway.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="title"> +THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT +OF THE MAN IN THE BEAR-TRAP</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here I am at last a goner,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Held in hungry jaws like Jonah;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What the trap has left of me<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Eaten by the bears will be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I make, on duty bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My last will and testament,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Giving to my Bearcamp friends<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All my traps and odds and ends.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First, on Mr. Whittier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That old bedstead I confer,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whereupon, to vex his life,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Adam dreamed himself a wife.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I give Miss Ford the copyright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of these verses I indite,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To be sung, when I am gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To the tune the cow died on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Miss Lansing I bestow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tall Diana's hunting bow;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where it is I cannot tell—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But if found 't will suit her well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bequeath to Mary Bailey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yarn to knit a stocking daily.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i1">To Lizzie Pickard from my hat<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A ribbon for her yellow cat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I give to Mr. Pickard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That old tallow dip that flickered,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Flowed and sputtered more or less<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Over Franklin's printing press.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I give Belle Hume a wing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the bird that wouldn't sing;<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i1">To Jettie for her dancing nights<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Slippers dropped from Northern Lights.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I give my very best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beaver stove-pipe to Celeste—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Solely for her husband's wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On the day they're made a pair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If a tear for me is shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Miss Larcom's eyes are red—<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +<span class="i1">Give her for her prompt relief<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My last pocket-handkerchief!<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">My cottage at the Shoals I give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To all who at the Bearcamp live—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Provided that a steamer plays<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Down that river in dog-days—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Linking daily heated highlands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the cool sea-scented islands—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With Tip her engineer, her skipper<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Peter Hines, the old stage-whipper.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Addie Caldwell, who has mended<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My torn coat, and trousers rended,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I bequeath, in lack of payment,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All that 's left me of my raiment.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Having naught beside to spare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my good friend, Mrs. Ayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And to Mrs. Sturtevant,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My last lock of hair I grant.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I make Mr. Currier<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this will executor;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I leave the debts to be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Reckoned as his legal fee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This is all of the will that was written that evening; but +the next morning, at breakfast, I found under my plate a +note-sheet, with some penciling on it. As I opened it, Mr. +Whittier, with a quizzical look, said, "Thee will notice +that the bear-trap man has added a codicil to his will." +This is the codicil:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And this pencil of a sick bard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bequeath to Mr. Pickard;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pledging him to write a very<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Long and full obituary—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Showing by my sad example,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Useful life and virtues ample,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wit and wisdom only tend<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To bear-traps at one's latter end!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> +<p>I had to go back to my editorial desk in Portland that +day, and immediately received there this note from Mr. +Whittier:—</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. P.</span>,—Don't print in thy paper my foolish +verses, which thee copied. They are hardly consistent +with my years and 'eminent gravity,' and would make +'the heathen rage, and the people imagine vain things.'"</p> + +<p>I had no thought at the time of giving to the public this +jolly side of Whittier's character, but do it now with little +misgiving, as it is realized by every one that "a little +nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men." +Whittier's capacity for serious work is well known, and +his love of play never interfered with it. An earnest man +without a sense of humor is a machine without a lubricant, +worn out before its work is done. There can be no +doubt that Whittier owed his length of days to his happy +temperament.</p> + +<p>Here is a story of Whittier told by Alice Freeman +Palmer: One evening they sat in Governor Claflin's +library, in Boston, and he was taking his rest telling +ghost stories. Mrs. Claflin had given strict orders that +no visitor be allowed to intrude on Mr. Whittier when +he was resting. Suddenly, at the crisis of a particularly +interesting story, there was a commotion in the hall, and +the rest of that story was not told. A lady had called to +see the poet, and would not be denied. The domestic +could not stop her, and she came straight into the library. +She walked up to Whittier and seized both his hands, +saying, "Mr. Whittier, this is the supreme moment of +my life!" The poor man in his distress blushed like a +school-girl, and shifted from one foot to the other; he +managed to get his hands free, and put them behind him +for further security. And what do you think he said? +All he said was, "Is it?" Miss Freeman thought a third +party in the way, and slipped out. As she was going upstairs, +she heard a quick step behind her, and Whittier +took her by the shoulder and shook her, saying as if angry,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +"Alice Freeman, I believe thee has been laughing +at me!" She could not deny it. "What would thee do, +Alice Freeman, if a man thee never saw should come up +in that way to thee, take both hands, and tell thee it was +the supreme moment of his life?"</p> + +<p>Probably the most seriously dangerous position in +which he was ever placed was on the occasion of the looting +and burning of Pennsylvania Hall, in the spring of +1838. His editorial office was in the building, and for +two or three days the mob had been threatening its destruction +before they accomplished it. It was not safe for +him to go into the street except in disguise. And yet it +was at this very time that he wrote the following humorous +skit, never before in print. Theodore D. Weld had +the year before made a contract of perpetual bachelorhood +with Whittier, and yet he chose this troublous time +to marry the eloquent South Carolina Quakeress, Angelina +Grimké, who had freed her slaves and come North +to rouse the people, and was creating a sensation on the +lecture platform. Her burning words in Pennsylvania +Hall had helped to make the mob furious. Whittier's +humorous arraignment of his friend for breaking his promise +of celibacy was written at this critical time, and +he was obliged to disguise himself when he carried his +epithalamium on the wedding night to the door of the +bridegroom. He had been invited to assist at the wedding +service, but as the bride was marrying "out of society," +Whittier's orthodoxy compelled him to decline the invitation.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Alack and alas! that a brother of mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A bachelor sworn on celibacy's altar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should leave me to watch by the desolate shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And stoop his own neck to the enemy's halter!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh the treason of Benedict Arnold was better<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than the scoffing at Love, and then <i>sub rosa</i> wooing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This mocking at Beauty, yet wearing her fetter—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Alack and alas for such bachelor doing!<br /></span> +</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh the weapons of Saul are the Philistine's prey!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who shall stand when the heart of the champion fails him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who strive when the mighty his shield casts away,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And yields up his post when a woman assails him?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone and despairing thy brother remains<br /></span> +<span class="i1">At the desolate shrine where we stood up together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half tempted to envy thy self-imposed chains,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And stoop his own neck for the noose of the tether!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So firm and yet false! Thou mind'st me in sooth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of St. Anthony's fall when the spirit of evil<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><b>. . . . .</b><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Filled the cell of his rest with imp, dragon and devil;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the Saint never lifted his eyes from the Book<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till the tempter appeared in the guise of a woman;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her voice was so sweet that he ventured one look,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the devil rejoiced that the Saint had proved human!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In 1874, Gail Hamilton's niece was married at her +house in Hamilton, and she sent a grotesque invitation +to Whittier, asking him to come to her wedding, and prescribing +a ridiculous costume he might wear. As a postscript +she mentioned that it was her niece who was to be +married. Whittier sent this reply, pretending not to have +noticed the postscript, but finally waking up to the fact +that she was not herself to be the bride:—</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">Amesbury,</span> 12th mo. 29th, 1874.</span><br /> +</div><div class="title"> + +GAIL HAMILTON'S WEDDING</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come to my wedding," the missive runs,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"Come hither and list to the holy vows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you miss this chance you will wait full long<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To see another at Gail-a House!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Her</i> wedding! What can the woman expect?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Does she think her friends can be jolly and glad?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Is it only the child who sighs and grieves<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For the loss of something he never had?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet I say to myself, Is it strange that she<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Should choose the way that we know is good<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What right have we to grumble and whine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In a pitiful dog-in-the-manger mood?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What boots it to maunder with "if" and "perhaps,"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And "it might have been" when we know it could n't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she had been willing (a vain surmise),<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It 's ten to one that Barkis would n't.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'T was pleasant to think (if it <i>was</i> a dream)<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That our loving homage her need supplied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Humbler and sadder, if wiser, we walk<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To feel her life from our own lives glide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let her go, God bless her! I fling for luck<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My old shoe after her. Stay, what 's this?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it all a mistake? The letter reads,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"My <i>niece</i>, you must know, is the happy miss."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All 's right! To grind out a song of cheer<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I set to the crank my ancient muse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will somebody kiss that bride for me?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I fling with my blessing, both boots and shoes!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To the lucky bridegroom I cry all hail!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He is sure of having, let come what may,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sage advice of the wisest aunt<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That ever her fair charge gave away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Hamilton bell, if bell there be,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Methinks is ringing its merriest peal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, shades of John Calvin! I seem to see<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The hostess treading the wedding reel!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The years are many, the years are long,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My dreams are over, my songs are sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, out of a heart that has not grown cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I bid God-speed to the fair and young.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All joy go with them from year to year;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Never by me shall their pledge be blamed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the perfect love that has cast out fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the beautiful hope that is not ashamed!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>An aged Quaker friend from England, himself a bachelor, +was once visiting Mr. Whittier, and was shown to his +room by the poet, when the hour for retiring came. +Soon after, he was heard calling to his host in an excited +tone, "Thee has made a mistake, friend Whittier; there +are female garments in my room!" Whittier replied +soothingly, "Thee had better go to bed, Josiah; the +female garments won't hurt thee."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 440px;"> +<a name="josiah_bartlett_statue" id="josiah_bartlett_statue"></a> +<img src="images/image123.jpg" width="440" height="600" alt="JOSIAH BARTLETT STATUE, HUNTINGTON SQUARE, AMESBURY" title="JOSIAH BARTLETT STATUE, HUNTINGTON SQUARE, AMESBURY" /> +<span class="caption">JOSIAH BARTLETT STATUE, HUNTINGTON SQUARE, AMESBURY</span> +</div> + +<p>Here is a specimen of his frolicsome verse written after +he was eighty years of age. It deals largely in personalities, +was meant solely for the perusal of a few friends whom +it pleasantly satirized, and was never before in print. When +the bronze statue of Josiah Bartlett was to be erected in +Amesbury, Whittier of course was called upon for the +dedicatory ode, and he wrote "One of the Signers" for +the occasion. The unveiling of the statue occurred on +the Fourth of July, 1888, and as might have been anticipated, +the poet could not be prevailed upon to be present. +The day before the Fourth he went to Oak Knoll, "so as +to keep in the quiet," he said. But his thoughts were on +the celebration going on at Amesbury, and they took the +form of drollery. He imagined himself occupying the seat +on the platform which had been reserved for him, and +these amusing verses were composed, the satirical allusions +in which would be appreciated by his townspeople. +The president of the day was Hon. E. Moody Boynton, a +descendant of the signer, and the well-known inventor of +the bicycle railway, the "lightning saw," etc. He has the +reputation of having the limberest tongue in New England, +as well as a brain most fertile in invention. The +orator of the day was Hon. Robert T. Davis, then member +of Congress, a former resident of Amesbury, and like +Bartlett a physician. Jacob R. Huntington, to whose liberality<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +the village is indebted for the statue, is a successful +pioneer in the carriage-building industry of the place. +It was cannily decided to give the statue to the State of +Massachusetts, so as to have an inducement for the Governor +to attend the dedication. Whittier's play on this fact +is in the best vein of his drollery. The statue is of dark +bronze, and this gave a chance for his amusing reference<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +to the Kingston Democrats, whom he imagined as coming +across the state line to attend the celebration. Dr. Bartlett +was buried in their town. Professor J. W. Churchill, +of Andover, one of the "heretics" of the Seminary, was +to read the poem. The other persons named were eccentric +characters well known in Amesbury:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="title"> +MY DOUBLE</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm in Amesbury, not at Oak Knoll;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">'T is my double here you see:<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I 'm</i> sitting on the platform,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where the programme places me—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the women nudge each other,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And point me out and say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"That 's the man who makes the verses—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My! how old he is and gray!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hear the crackers popping,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I hear the bass drums throb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sit at Boynton's right hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And help him boss the job.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And like the great stone giant<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dug out of Cardiff mire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We lift our man of metal,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And resurrect Josiah!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Around, the Hampshire Democrats<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Stand looking glum and grim,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"<i>That thing</i> the Kingston doctor!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Do you call <i>that critter</i> him?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The pesky Black Republicans<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Have gone and changed his figure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We buried him a white man—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They've dug him up a nigger!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hear the wild winds rushing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From Boynton's limber jaws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swift as his railroad bicycle,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And buzzing like his saws!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Hiram the wise is explaining<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It 's only an old oration<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Ginger-Pop Emmons, come down<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By way of undulation!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then Jacob, the vehicle-maker,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Comes forward to inquire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Governor Ames will relieve the town<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of the care of old Josiah.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the Governor says: "If Amesbury can't<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Take care of its own town charge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The State, I suppose, must do it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And keep him from runnin' at large!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then rises the orator Robert,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Recounting with grave precision<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tale of the great Declaration,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the claims of his brother physician.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Both doctors, and both Congressmen,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tall and straight, you 'd scarce know which is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The live man, and which is the image,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Except by their trousers and breeches!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then when the Andover "heretic"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Reads the rhymes I dared not utter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fancy Josiah is scowling,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And his bronze lips seem to mutter:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dry up! and stop your nonsense!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The Lord who in His mercies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once saved me from the Tories,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Preserve me now from verses!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bad taste in the old Continental!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose knowledge of verse was at best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">John Rogers' farewell to his wife and<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nine children and one at the breast!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He 's treating me worse than the Hessians<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He shot in the Bennington scrimmage—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have I outlived the newspaper critic,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To be scalped by a graven image!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Perhaps, after all, I deserve it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Since I, who was born a Quaker,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sit here an image worshiper,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Instead of an image breaker!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In giving this picture of a poet at play, I have presented +a side of Whittier's character heretofore overlooked, although +to his intimate friends it was ever in evidence. I +think there are few of the lovers of his verse who, if they +are surprised by these revelations, will not also be pleased +to become acquainted with one of his methods of recreation.</p> + +<hr style="width: 33%;" /> + +<p>When Edmund Gosse visited this country in 1884, he +called upon Mr. Whittier, and this is the impression he received +of his personality: "The peculiarity of his face rested +in the extraordinarily large and luminous black eyes, set in +black eyebrows, and fringed with thick black eyelashes curiously +curved inward. This bar of vivid black across the +countenance was startlingly contrasted with the bushy snow-white +beard and hair, offering a sort of contradiction which +was surprising and presently pleasing. He struck me as +very gay and cheerful, in spite of his occasional references +to the passage of time and the vanishing of beloved faces. +He even laughed frequently and with a childlike suddenness, +but without a sound. His face had none of the immobility +so frequent with very aged persons; on the contrary, waves +of mood were always sparkling across his features, and +leaving nothing stationary there except the narrow, high, +and strangely receding forehead. His language, very fluent +and easy, had an agreeable touch of the soil, an occasional +rustic note in its elegant colloquialism, that seemed very +pleasant and appropriate, as if it linked him naturally with +the long line of sturdy ancestors of whom he was the final +blossoming. In connection with his poetry, I think it +would be difficult to form in the imagination a figure more +appropriate to Whittier's writings than Whittier himself +proved to be in the flesh."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> +<h2><big>WHITTIER'S UNCOLLECTED POEMS</big></h2> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV<br /><br /> + +WHITTIER'S UNCOLLECTED POEMS</h2> + + +<p>Between the years 1826 and 1835, Mr. Whittier was +writing literally hundreds of poems which he never permitted +to be collected in any edition of his works; and +not only so, but he preserved no copies of them, in later +years destroying such as came to his notice. Some of +these verses went the rounds of the newspaper press of +the country, giving him a widespread reputation as a poet. +But in much of his early work we see traces of ambition +for fame, and a feeling that the world was treating him +harshly. When the change came over his spirit to which +reference has been made in a preceding chapter, sweetening +all the springs of life, he lost interest in these early +productions, some of which were giving him the fame +that in his earlier years he so much craved. It was this +radical change which no doubt influenced him in his +later life to omit from his collected works most of the +verses written previous to it. I have in my possession +more than three hundred poems which I have found in +the files of old newspapers, the great mass of which I +would by no means reproduce, although I find nothing of +which a young writer of that period need be ashamed. A +few of these verses are given below as specimens of the +work he saw fit to discard.</p> + +<p>The following poem, written when he was nineteen +years of age, during his first term in the Haverhill Academy, +shows in one or two stanzas the feeling that the +world is giving him the cold shoulder:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="titlest"> +I WOULD NOT LOSE THAT ROMANCE WILD</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I would not lose that romance wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That high and gifted feeling—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The power that made me fancy's child,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The clime of song revealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all the power, for all the gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That slaves to pride and avarice hold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know that there are those who deem<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But lightly of the lyre;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who ne'er have felt one blissful beam<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of song-enkindled fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steal o'er their spirits, as the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of morning o'er the face of night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet there 's a mystery in song—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A halo round the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of him who seeks the muses' throng—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">An intellectual ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A source of pure, unfading joy—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dream that earth can ne'er destroy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And though the critic's scornful eye<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Condemn his faltering lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though with heartless apathy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The cold world turn away—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And envy strive with secret aim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To blast and dim his rising fame;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet fresh, amid the blast that brings<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such poison on its breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the wreck of meaner things,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His lyre's unfading wreath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall bloom, when those who scorned his lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With name and power have passed away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come then, my lyre, although there be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No witchery in thy tone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though the lofty harmony<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which other bards have known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is not, and cannot e'er be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To touch with power those chords of thine.<br /></span> +</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet thou canst tell, in humble strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The feelings of a heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, though not proud, would still disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To bear a meaner part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than that of bending at the shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where their bright wreaths the muses twine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou canst not give me wealth or fame;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou hast no power to shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The halo of a deathless name<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Around my last cold bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To other chords than thine belong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breathings of immortal song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet come, my lyre! some hearts may beat<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Responsive to thy lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tide of sympathy may meet<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy master's lonely way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kindred souls from envy free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May listen to its minstrelsy.<br /></span> +<span class="i-2"><small>8th month, 1827.</small><br /><br /></span></div></div> + + +<p>During the first months of Whittier's editorship of the +"New England Review" at Hartford, his contributions of +verse to that paper were numerous—in some cases three +of his poems appearing in a single number, as in the +issue of October 18, 1830. Two of these are signed with +his initials, but the one here given has no signature. +That it is his is made evident by the fact that all but one +stanza of it appears in "Moll Pitcher," published two +years later. It was probably because of the self-assertion +of the concluding lines that the omitted stanza was canceled, +and these lines reveal the ambition then stirring +his young blood.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="title"> +NEW ENGLAND</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Land of the forest and the rock—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of dark blue lake and mighty river—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of mountains reared aloft to mock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm's career—the lightning's shock,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My own green land forever!—<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Land of the beautiful and brave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The freeman's home—the martyr's grave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nursery of giant men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose deeds have linked with every glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every hill and every stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The romance of some warrior dream!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh never may a son of thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er his wandering steps incline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forget the sky which bent above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His childhood like a dream of love—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stream beneath the green hill flowing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The broad-armed trees above it growing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clear breeze through the foliage blowing;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or hear unmoved the taunt of scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathed o'er the brave New England born;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or mark the stranger's Jaguar hand<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Disturb the ashes of thy dead—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The buried glory of a land<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose soil with noble blood is red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sanctified in every part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor feel resentment like a brand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unsheathing from his fiery heart!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh—greener hills may catch the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beneath the glorious heaven of France;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And streams rejoicing as they run<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like life beneath the day-beam's glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May wander where the orange bough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With golden fruit is bending low;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there may bend a brighter sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er green and classic Italy—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pillared fane and ancient grave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bear record of another time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And over shaft and architrave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The green luxuriant ivy climb;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far towards the rising sun<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The palm may shake its leaves on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where flowers are opening one by one,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like stars upon the twilight sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And breezes soft as sighs of love<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Above the rich mimosa stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the Brahmin's sacred grove<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A thousand bright-hued pinions play!—<br /></span> +</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, unto thee, New England, still<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy wandering sons shall stretch their arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy rude chart of rock and hill<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seem dearer than the land of palms!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy massy oak and mountain pine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">More welcome than the banyan's shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every free, blue stream of thine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seem richer than the golden bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Oriental waves, which glow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sparkle with the wealth below!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Land of my fathers!—if my name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now humble, and unwed to fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hereafter burn upon the lip,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As one of those which may not die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Linked in eternal fellowship<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With visions pure and strong and high—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the wild dreams which quicken now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The throbbing pulse of heart and brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hereafter take a real form<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like spectres changed to beings warm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And over temples worn and gray<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The star-like crown of glory shine,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine be the bard's undying lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The murmur of his praise be thine!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>One of the poems in the same number which contained +this spirited tribute to New England was the song given +below, which was signed with the initials of the editor, +else there might be some hesitation in assigning it to him, +for there is scarcely anything like it to be found in his +writings. It was evidently written for music, and some +composer should undertake it.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="titlewd"> +SONG</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That vow of thine was full and deep<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As man has ever spoken—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A vow within the heart to keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Unchangeable, unbroken.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'T was by the glory of the Sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And by the light of Even,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And by the Stars, that, one by one,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are lighted up in Heaven!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That Even might forget its gold—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Sunlight fade forever—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The constant Stars grow dim and cold,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But thy affection—never!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Earth might wear a changeful sign,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And fickleness the Sky—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, even then, that love of thine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Might never change nor die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The golden Sun is shining yet—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And at the fall of Even<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's beauty in the warm Sunset,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Stars are bright in Heaven.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No change is on the blessed Sky—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The quiet Earth has none—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature has still her constancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And <i>Thou</i> art changed alone!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The "Review" for September 13, 1830, has a poem +of Whittier's prefaced by a curious story about Lord +Byron:—</p> + +<p><i>The Spectre.</i>—There is a story going the rounds of our +periodicals that a Miss G., of respectable family, young +and very beautiful, attended Lord Byron for nearly a year +in the habit of a page. Love, desperate and all-engrossing, +seems to have been the cause of her singular conduct. +Neglected at last by the man for whom she had forsaken +all that woman holds dear, she resolved upon self-destruction, +and provided herself with poison. Her designs +were discovered by Lord Byron, who changed the poison +for a sleeping potion. Miss G., with that delicate feeling +of affection which had ever distinguished her intercourse +with Byron, stole privately away to the funeral vault of +the Byrons, and fastened the entrance, resolving to spare<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +her lover the dreadful knowledge of her fate. She there +swallowed the supposed poison—and probably died of +starvation! She was found dead soon after. Lord Byron +never adverted to this subject without a thrill of horror. +The following from his private journal may, perhaps, have +some connection with it:—</p> + +<p>"I awoke from a dream—well! and have not others +dreamed?—such a dream! I wish the dead would rest +forever. Ugh! how my blood chilled—and I could not +wake—and—and—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">"Shadows to-night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than could the substance of ten thousand—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Armed all in proof—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"I do not like this dream—I hate its foregone conclusion. +And am I to be shaken by shadows? Ay, when +they remind us of—no matter—but if I dream again I +will try whether all sleep has the like visions."—Moore's +"Byron," page 324.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">She came to me last night—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The floor gave back no tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She stood by me in the wan moonlight—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the white robes of the dead—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale—pale, and very mournfully<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She bent her light form over me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard no sound—I felt no breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathe o'er me from that face of death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its dark eyes rested on my own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rayless and cold as eyes of stone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet in their fixed, unchanging gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something which told of other days—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sadness in their quiet glare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if Love's smile were frozen there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came o'er me with an icy thrill—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O God! I feel its presence still!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fearfully and dimly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pale cold vision passed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet those dark eyes were fixed on me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sadness to the last.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I struggled—and my breath came back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to the victim on the rack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the pause of mortal pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life steals to suffer once again!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was it a dream? I looked around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moonlight through the lattice shone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The same pale glow that dimly crowned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The forehead of the spectral one!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then I knew she had been there—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not in her breathing loveliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as the grave's lone sleepers are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent and cold and passionless!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A weary thought—a fearful thought—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the secret heart to keep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would that the past might be forgot—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would that the dead might sleep!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>These are the concluding lines of a long poem written in +1829, while he was editing the "American Manufacturer." +The poem as a whole was never in print; but these lines of +it I find in the "Essex Gazette" of August 22, 1829, from +which paper they were copied, as were most of his productions +of that period, by the newspapers of the country. +They were never in any collection of his works:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="title"> +A FRAGMENT</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lady, farewell! I know thy heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has angel strength to soar above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cold reserve—the studied art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mock the glowing wings of love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its thoughts are purer than the pearl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That slumbers where the wave is driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet freer than the winds that furl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The banners of the clouded heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou hast been the brightest star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shone along my weary way—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brighter than rainbow visions are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A changeless and enduring ray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor will my memory lightly fade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thy pure dreams, high-thoughted girl;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ocean may forget what made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its blue expanse of waters curl,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When the strong winds have passed the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth in its beauty may forget<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The recent cloud that floated by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glories of the last sunset—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not from thy unchanging mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will fade the dreams of other years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love will linger far behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In memory's resting place of tears!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Many of Whittier's early discarded verses are of a +rather gruesome sort, but more are inspired by contemplation +of sublime themes, like this apostrophe to "Eternity," +which was published in the "New England Review" in +1831:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="titlewd"> +ETERNITY</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Boundless eternity! the wingéd sands<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That mark the silent lapse of flitting time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are not for thee; thine awful empire stands<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From age to age, unchangeable, sublime;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy domes are spread where thought can never climb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In clouds and darkness where vast pillars rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I may not fathom thee: 't would seem a crime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy being of its mystery to divest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or boldly lift thine awful veil with hands unblest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy ruins are the wrecks of systems; suns<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Blaze a brief space of age, and are not;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worlds crumble and decay, creation runs<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To waste—then perishes and is forgot;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet thou, all changeless, heedest not the blot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven speaks once more in thunder; empty space<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Trembles and wakes; new worlds in ether float,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teeming with new creative life, and trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their mighty circles, which others shall displace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thine age is youth, thy youth is hoary age,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ever beginning, never ending, thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bearest inscribed upon thy ample page,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yesterday, forever, but as now<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou art, thou hast been, shall be: though<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel myself immortal, when on thee<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I muse, I shrink to nothingness, and bow<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Myself before thee, dread Eternity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With God coeval, coexisting, still to be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I go with thee till time shall be no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I stand with thee on Time's remotest age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ten thousand years, ten thousand times told o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Still, still with thee my onward course I urge;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And now no longer hear the surge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Time's light billows breaking on the shore<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of distant earth; no more the solemn dirge—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Requiem of worlds, when such are numbered o'er—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steals by: still thou art on forever more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From that dim distance I turn to gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With fondly searching glance, upon the spot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of brief existence, when I met the blaze<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of morning, bursting on my humble cot,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And gladness whispered of my happy lot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now 't is dwindled to a point—a speck—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And now 't is nothing, and my eye may not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Longer distinguish it amid the wreck<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of worlds in ruins, crushed at the Almighty's beck.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Time—what is time to thee? a passing thought<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To twice ten thousand ages—a faint spark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To twice ten thousand suns; a fibre wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Into the web of infinite—a cork<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Balanced against a world: we hardly mark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its being—even its name hath ceased to be;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy wave hath swept it from us, thy dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mantle of years, in dim obscurity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath shrouded it around: Time—what is Time to thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In 1832 a living ichneumon was brought to Haverhill, +and was on exhibition at Frinksborough, a section of +Haverhill now known as "the borough," on the bank of +the river above the railroad bridge. Three young ladies +of Haverhill went to see it, escorted by Mr. Whittier. +They found that the animal had succumbed to the New +England climate, and had just been buried. One of the +ladies, Harriet Minot, afterward Mrs. Pitman, a life-long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +friend of the poet, suggested that he should write an +elegy, and these are the lines he produced:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="titlest"> +THE DEAD ICHNEUMON</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stranger! they have made thy grave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By the darkly flowing river;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the washing of its wave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall disturb thee never!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor its autumn tides which run<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Turbid to the rising sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the harsh and hollow thunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When its fetters burst asunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its winter ice is sweeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Downward to the ocean's keeping.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleeper! thou canst rest as calm<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As beside thine own dark stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the shadow of the palm,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or the white sand gleam!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though thy grave be never hid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the o'ershadowing pyramid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frowning o'er the desert sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like no work of mortal hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Telling aye the same proud story<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the old Egyptian glory!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wand'rer! would that we might know<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Something of thy early time—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something of thy weal or woe<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In thine own far clime!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thy step hath fallen where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those of Cleopatra were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the Roman cast his crown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At a woman's footstool down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deeming glory's sunshine dim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the smile which welcomed him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If beside the reedy Nile<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou hast ever held thy way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the embryo crocodile<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the damp sedge lay;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When the river monster's eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindled at thy passing by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the pliant reeds were bending<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where his blackened form was wending,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the basking serpent started<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wildly when thy light form darted.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou hast seen the desert steed<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Mounted by his Arab chief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passing like some dream of speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wonderful and brief!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the palm-tree's shadows lurk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast seen the turbaned Turk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resting in voluptuous pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his harem at his side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Veiléd victims of his will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scorned and lost, yet lovely still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the samiel hath gone<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O'er thee like a demon's breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Marking victims one by one<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For its master—Death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the mirage thou hast seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glittering in the sunny sheen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some lake in sunlight sleeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the desert wind was sweeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sandy column gliding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some giant onward striding.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Once the dwellers of thy home<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Blessed the path thy race had trod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kneeling in the temple dome<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To a reptile god;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the shrine of Isis shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the veil before its throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the priest with fixéd eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watched his human sacrifice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the priestess knelt in prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some dream of beauty there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou, unhonored and unknown,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wand'rer o'er the mighty sea!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None for thee have reverence shown—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">None have worshipped thee!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Here in vulgar Yankee land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast passed from hand to hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in Frinksborough found a home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where no change can ever come!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What thy closing hours befell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None may ask, and none may tell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who hath mourned above thy grave?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">None—except thy ancient nurse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well she may—thy being gave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Coppers to her purse!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who hath questioned her of thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None, alas! save maidens three,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here to view thee while in being,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yankee curious, paid for seeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And would gratis view once more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That for which they paid before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet thy quiet rest may be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Envied by the human kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who are showing off like thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To the careless mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gifts which torture while they flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoughts which madden while they glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pouring out the heart's deep wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proffering quiet, ease, and health,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the fame which comes to them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blended with their requiem!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The following poem, which I have never seen in print, +I find in a manuscript collection of Whittier's early poems, +in the possession of his cousin, Ann Wendell, of Philadelphia. +It is a political curiosity, being a reminiscence +of the excitement caused by the mystery of the disappearance +of William Morgan, in the vicinity of Niagara Falls, +in 1826. It was written in 1830, three years before Whittier +became especially active in the anti-slavery cause. +He was then working in the interest of Henry Clay as +against Jackson, and the Whigs had adopted some of the +watchwords of the Anti-Masonic party:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="titlest"> +THE GRAVE OF MORGAN</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wild torrent of the lakes! fling out<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy mighty wave to breeze and sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let the rainbow curve above<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The foldings of thy clouds of dun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uplift thy earthquake voice, and pour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its thunder to the reeling shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till caverned cliff and hanging wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roll back the echo of thy flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there is one who slumbers now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath thy bow-encircled brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose spirit hath a voice and sign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More strong, more terrible than thine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A million hearts have heard that cry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ring upward to the very sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It thunders still—it cannot sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But louder than the troubled deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the fierce spirit of the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath made his arm of vengeance bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wave to wave is calling loud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the veiling thunder-cloud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That potent voice is sounding still—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice of unrequited ill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dark cataract of the lakes! thy name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unholy deeds have linked to fame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High soars to heaven thy giant head,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Even as a monument to him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose cold unheeded form is laid<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Down, down amid thy caverns dim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His requiem the fearful tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of waters falling from their throne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the mid air, his burial shroud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wreathings of thy torrent cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His blazonry the rainbow thrown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Superbly round thy brow of stone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aye, raise thy voice—the sterner one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which tells of crime in darkness done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Groans upward from thy prison gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like voices from the thunder's home.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And men have heard it, and the might<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of freemen rising from their thrall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall drag their fetters into light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And spurn and trample on them all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vengeance long—too long delayed—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall rouse to wrath the souls of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And freedom raise her holy head<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Above the fallen tyrant then.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This poem, which was published in "The Haverhill +Gazette" in 1829, was copied in many papers of that +time, but was never in any collection of its author's +works:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="titlest"> +THE THUNDER SPIRIT</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dweller of the unpillared air,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Marshalling the storm to war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heralding its presence where<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rolls along thy cloudy car!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou that speakest from on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like an earthquake's bursting forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounding through the veiléd sky<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As an angel's trumpet doth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bending from thy dark dominion<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like a fierce, revengeful king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blasting with thy fiery pinion<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Every high and holy thing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smitten from their mountain prison<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou hast bid the streams go free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the ruin's smoke has risen,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like a sacrifice to thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><b>. . . . .</b><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Monarch of each cloudy form,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Gathered on the blue of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the trumpet of the storm<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To thy lip of flame is given!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the wave and in the breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the shadow and the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God hath many languages,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And thy mighty voice is one!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> +<p>Here is a poem of Whittier's that will remind every +reader of the hymn "The Worship of Nature," which +first appeared without a title in the "Tent on the Beach." +And yet there is no line in it, and scarcely a phrase, which +was used in this last named poem. I find it in the "New +England Review," of Hartford, under date of January +24, 1831. It would seem that "The Worship of Nature" +was a favorite theme of his, for a still earlier treatment +of it I have found in the "Haverhill Gazette" of October +5, 1827, written before the poet was twenty years of age. +It is a curious fact that while in the version of 1827 there +are a few lines and phrases which were adopted forty +years afterward, the lines given here are none of them +copied in the final revision of the poem.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="titlest"> +THE WORSHIP OF NATURE</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><small><b>"The air</b></small><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><small><b>Is glorious with the spirit-march</b></small><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><small><b>Of messengers of prayer."</b></small><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a solemn hymn goes up<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From Nature to the Lord above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And offerings from her incense-cup<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are poured in gratitude and love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from each flower that lifts its eye<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In modest silence in the shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the strong woods that kiss the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A thankful song of praise is made.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is no solitude on earth—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"In every leaf there is a tongue"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every glen a voice of mirth—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From every hill a hymn is sung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every wild and hidden dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where human footsteps never trod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is wafting songs of joy, which tell<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The praises of their maker—God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Each mountain gives an altar birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And has a shrine to worship given;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Each breeze which rises from the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is loaded with a song of Heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each wave that leaps along the main<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sends solemn music on the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And winds which sweep o'er ocean's plain<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bear off their voice of grateful prayer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Night's dark wings are slowly furled<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And clouds roll off the orient sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sunlight bursts upon the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like angels' pinions flashing by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A matin hymn unheard will rise<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From every flower and hill and tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And songs of joy float up the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like holy anthems from the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When sunlight dies, and shadows fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And twilight plumes her rosy wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Devotion's breath lifts Music's pall,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And silvery voices seem to sing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the earth falls soft to rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And young wind's pinions seem to tire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the pure streams upon its breast<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Join their glad sounds with Nature's lyre.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when the sky that bends above<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is lighted up with spirit fires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A gladdening song of praise and love<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is pealing from the sky-tuned lyres;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every star that throws its light<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From off Creation's bending brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is offering on the shrine of Night<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The same unchanging subject-vow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus Earth 's a temple vast and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Filled with the glorious works of love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When earth and sky and sea and air<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Join in the praise of God above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still through countless coming years<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Unwearied songs of praise shall roll<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On plumes of love to Him who hears<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The softest strain in Music's soul.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> +<p>There was a remarkable display of the aurora borealis in +January, 1837, and this poem commemorates the phenomenon:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="title"> +THE NORTHERN LIGHTS</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A light is troubling heaven! A strange dull glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hangs like a half-quenched veil of fire between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blue sky and the earth; and the shorn stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gleam faint and sickly through it. Day hath left<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No token of its parting, and the blush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which it welcomed the embrace of Night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has faded from the blue cheek of the West;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet from the solemn darkness of the North,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stretched o'er the "empty place" by God's own hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trembles and waves that curtain of pale fire,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tingeing with baleful and unnatural hues<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winter snows beneath. It is as if<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature's last curse—the fearful plague of fire—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were working in the elements, and the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even as a scroll consuming.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Lo, a change!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fiery wonder sinks, and all along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dark deep crimson rests—a sea of blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untroubled by a wave. And over all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bendeth a luminous arch of pale, pure white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clearly contrasted with the blue above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the dark red beneath it. Glorious!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How like a pathway for the Shining Ones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pure and beautiful intelligences<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who minister in Heaven, and offer up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their praise as incense, or like that which rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the Pilgrim prophet, when the tread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the most holy angels brightened it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his dream the haunted sleeper saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ascending and descending of the blest!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet another change! O'er half the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A long bright flame is trembling, like the sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the great angel of the guarded gate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Paradise, when all the holy streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And beautiful bowers of Eden-land blushed red<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath its awful wavering, and the eyes<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of the outcasts quailed before its glare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As from the immediate questioning of God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And men are gazing at these "signs in heaven,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With most unwonted earnestness, and fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And beautiful brows are reddening in the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this strange vision of the upper air:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even as the dwellers of Jerusalem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beleaguered by the Romans—when the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Palestine were thronged with fiery shapes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from Antonia's tower the mailed Jew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw his own image pictured in the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contending with the heathen; and the priest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the temple's altar veiled his face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From that fire-written language of the sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh God of mystery! these fires are thine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy breath hath kindled them, and there they burn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the permanent glory of Thy heavens,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That earliest revelation written out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In starry language, visible to all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifting unto Thyself the heavy eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the down-looking spirits of the earth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Indian, leaning on his hunting-bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the ice-mountains hem the frozen pole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hoar architect of winter piles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tireless hand his snowy pyramids,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks upward in deep awe,—while all around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eternal ices kindle with the hues<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which tremble on their gleaming pinnacles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sharp cold ridges of enduring frost,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And points his child to the Great Spirit's fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas for us who boast of deeper lore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If in the maze of our vague theories,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our speculations, and our restless aim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To search the secret, and familiarize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The awful things of nature, we forget<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To own Thy presence in Thy mysteries!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This imitation of "The Old Oaken Bucket" was written +in 1826, when Whittier was in his nineteenth year, +and except a single stanza, no part of it was ever before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +in print. The willow the young poet had in mind was on +the bank of Country Brook, near Country Bridge, and +also near the site of Thomas Whittier's log house. Mr. +Whittier once pointed out this spot to me as one in +which he delighted in his youth. On a grassy bank, almost +encircled by a bend in the stream, stood, and perhaps +still stands, just such a "storm-battered, water-washed +willow" as is here described:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="titlewd"> +THE WILLOW</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, dear to my heart are the scenes which delighted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fancy in moments I ne'er can recall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When each happy hour new pleasures invited,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hope pictured visions more lovely than all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I gazed with a light heart transported and glowing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the forest-crowned hill, and the rivulet's tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'ershaded with tall grass, and rapidly flowing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around the lone willow that stood by its side—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm-battered willow, the ivy-bound willow, the water-washed willow, that grew by its side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear scenes of past years, when the objects around me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed forms to awaken the transports of joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere yet the dull cares of experience had found me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dearly-loved visions of youth to destroy,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye seem to awaken, whene'er I discover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grass-shadowed rivulet rapidly glide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The green verdant meads of the vale wandering over<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And laving the willows that stand by its side—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm-battered willow, the ivy-bound willow, the water-washed willow, that stands by its side;—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How oft 'neath the shade of that wide-spreading willow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have laid myself down from anxiety free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reclining my head on the green grassy pillow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That waved round the roots of that dearly-loved tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where swift from the far distant uplands descending,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the bright sunbeam sparkling, the rivulet's tide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With murmuring echoes came gracefully wending<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its course round the willow that stood by its side—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm-battered willow, the ivy-bound willow, the water-washed willow that stood by its side.<br /></span> +</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Haunts of my childhood, that used to awaken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Emotions of joy in my infantile breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere yet the fond pleasures of youth had forsaken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bosom, and all the bright dreams you impressed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On my memory had faded, ye give not the feeling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of joy that ye did, when I gazed on the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As gracefully winding, its currents came stealing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around the lone willow that stood by its side—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm-battered willow, the ivy-bound willow, the water-washed willow, that stood by its side.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This is a fragment of a poem written in the album of +a cousin in Philadelphia, in 1838. It was never before in +print:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="title"> +THE USES OF SORROW</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It may be that tears at whiles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should take the place of folly's smiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When 'neath some Heaven-directed blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like those of Horeb's rock, they flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sorrows are in mercy given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fit the chastened soul for Heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prompting with woe and weariness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our yearning for that better sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, as the shadows close on this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grows brighter to the longing eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For each unwelcome blow may break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perchance, some chain which binds us here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clouds around the heart may make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vision of our faith more clear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As through the shadowy veil of even<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eye looks farthest into Heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On gleams of star, and depths of blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fervid sunshine never knew!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the summer of 1856, Charles A. Dana, then one of +the editors of the New York "Tribune," wrote to Whittier, +calling upon him for campaign songs for Fremont. He +said: "A powerful means of exciting and maintaining the +spirit of freedom in the coming decisive contest must be +songs. If we are to conquer, as I trust in God we are, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +great deal must be done by that genial and inspiring +stimulant." Whittier responded with several songs sung +during the campaign for free Kansas, but the following +lines for some reason he desired should appear without +his name, either in the "National Era," in which they +first appeared, August 14, 1856, or with the music to which +they were set. A recently discovered letter, written by him +to a friend in Philadelphia who was intrusted to set the +song to music, avows its authorship, and also credits to +his sister Elizabeth another song, "Fremont's Ride," published +in the same number of the "Era." As the brother +probably had some hand in the composition of this last-mentioned +piece, it is given here. This is Whittier's +song:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="title"> +WE 'RE FREE</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The robber o'er the prairie stalks<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And calls the land his own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he who talks as Slavery talks<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is free to talk alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But tell the knaves we are not slaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And tell them slaves we ne'er will be;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Come weal or woe, the world shall know.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">We 're free, we 're free, we 're free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, watcher on the outer wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How wears the night away?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear the birds of morning call,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I see the break of day!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Rise, tell the knaves, etc.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hands that hold the sword and purse<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ere long shall lose their prey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they who blindly wrought the curse,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The curse shall sweep away!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then tell the knaves, etc.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The land again in peace shall rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With blood no longer stained;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The virgin beauty of the West<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall be no more profaned.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">We 'll teach the knaves, etc.<br /></span> +</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The snake about her cradle twined,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall infant Kansas tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And freely on the Western wind<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall float her golden hair!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">So tell the knaves, etc.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then let the idlers stand apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And cowards shun the fight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll band together, heart to heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Forget, forgive, unite!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And tell the knaves we are not slaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And tell them slaves we ne'er will be;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Come weal or woe, the world shall know<br /></span> +<span class="i6">We 're free, we 're free, we 're free!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was Whittier's habit to freely suggest lines and even +whole stanzas for poems submitted to him for criticism, +and it may be readily believed that his hand is shown in +this campaign song of his sister's:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="titlewd"> +FREMONT'S RIDE</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As his mountain men followed, undoubting and bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er hill and o'er desert, through tempest and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So the people now burst from each fetter and thrall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And answer with shouting the wild bugle call.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Who 'll follow? Who 'll follow?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The bands gather fast;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">They who ride with Fremont<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ride in triumph at last!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, speed the bold riders! fling loose every rein,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The race run for freedom is not run in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From mountain and prairie, from lake and from sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ride gallant and hopeful, ride fearless and free!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Who 'll follow, etc.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The shades of the Fathers for Freedom who died,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they rode in the war storm, now ride at our side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their great souls shall strengthen our own for the fray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the glance of our leader make certain the way.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then follow, etc.<br /></span> +</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We ride not for honors, ambition or place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the wrong to redress, and redeem the disgrace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not for the North, nor for South, but the best good of all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We follow Fremont, and his wild bugle call!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Who 'll follow? Who 'll follow?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The bands gather fast;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">They who ride with Fremont<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ride in triumph at last!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The following poem was written at the close of his +last term at the Academy, and was published in the "Haverhill +Gazette" of October 4, 1828, signed "Adrian." +Probably no other poem written by him in those days +was so universally copied by the press of the whole country. +Its rather pessimistic tone no doubt caused the +poet to omit it from collections made after the great +change in his outlook upon life to which reference has +been made on another page.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="titlewd"> +THE TIMES</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><small><b>"Oh dear! oh dear! I grieve, I grieve,</b></small><br /></span> +<span class="i3"><small><b>For the good old days of Adam and Eve."</b></small><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The times, the times, I say, the times are growing worse than ever;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The good old ways our fathers trod shall grace their children never.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The homely hearth of ancient mirth, all traces of the plough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The places of their worship, are all forgotten now!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell the farmers' honest looks and independent mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tassel of his waving corn, the blossom of the bean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The turnip top, the pumpkin vine, the produce of his toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have given place to flower pots, and plants of foreign soil.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell the pleasant husking match, its merry after scenes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Indian pudding smoked beside the giant pot of beans;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ladies joined the social band, nor once affected fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But gave a pretty cheek to kiss for every crimson ear.<br /></span> +</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Affected modesty was not the test of virtue then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And few took pains to swoon away at sight of ugly men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For well they knew the purity which woman's heart should own<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Depends not on appearances, but on the heart alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell unto the buoyancy and openness of youth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The confidence of kindly hearts—the consciousness of truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The honest tone of sympathy—the language of the heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now cursed by fashion's tyranny, or turned aside by art.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell the social quilting match, the song, the merry play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The whirling of a pewter plate, the merry fines to pay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mimic marriage brought about by leaping o'er a broom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The good old blind man's buff, the laugh that shook the room.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell the days of industry—the time has glided by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When pretty hands were prettiest in making pumpkin pie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When waiting maids were needed not, and morning brought along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The music of the spinning wheel, the milkmaid's careless song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, days of artless innocence! Your dwellings are no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye are turning from the path our fathers trod before;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The homely hearth of honest mirth, all traces of the plough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The places of their worshiping, are all forgotten now!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I find among Mr. Whittier's papers the first draft of a +poem that he does not seem to have prepared for publication. +As it was written on the back of a note he received +in March, 1890, that was probably the date of its composition:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="titlest"> +A SONG OF PRAISES</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For the land that gave me birth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my native home and hearth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the change and overturning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the times of my sojourning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the world-step forward taken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For an evil way forsaken;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For cruel law abolished;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For idol shrines demolished;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For the tools of peaceful labor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrought from broken gun and sabre;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the slave-chain rent asunder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by free feet trodden under;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the truth defeating error;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the love that casts out terror;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the truer, clearer vision<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Humanity's great mission;—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For all that man upraises,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I sing this song of praises.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The following poem is a variant of the "Hymn for the +Opening of Thomas Starr King's House of Worship," +and was contributed in 1883 to a fair in aid of an Episcopal +chapel at Holderness, N. H.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="titlewd"> +UNITY</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forgive, O Lord, our severing ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The separate altars that we raise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The varying tongues that speak Thy praise!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Suffice it now. In time to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall one great temple rise to Thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy church our broad humanity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">White flowers of love its walls shall climb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet bells of peace shall ring its chime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its days shall all be holy time.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hymn, long sought, shall then be heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The music of the world's accord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confessing Christ, the inward word!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That song shall swell from shore to shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One faith, one love, one hope restore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seamless garb that Jesus wore!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="FOOTNOTES" id="FOOTNOTES"></a>FOOTNOTES:</h2> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> This story is told more fully in <i>Life and Letters</i>, +pp. 53, 54.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> This picture is reproduced from a drawing by Miss Francesca +Alexander in her exquisite volume, <i>Tuscan Songs</i>. It is the face of +an Italian peasant, but bears so extraordinary a resemblance to +Harriet Livermore (as testified by several who knew her) that it is +here given as representing her better than any known portrait.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> This letter has been published in full in a limited +edition, by Mr. Goodspeed, together with a New Year's Address referred +to in it as having given offense to some of the citizens of Rocks +Village. A portion of this Address (which appeared in the <i>Haverhill +Gazette</i>, January 5, 1828) is given in <i>Life and Letters</i>, +pp. 62, 63. The lines that seem to have given offense are these:— +<br /><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">"<i>Rocks</i> folks are wide awake—their old bridge tumbled</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Some years ago, and left them all forsaken;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">But they have risen, tired of being humbled,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">And the first steps towards a new one taken.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">They're all alive—their trade becomes more clever,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And mobs and riots flourish well as ever."</span><br /> +<br /> + +Thirty-five years later, perhaps remembering the offense he had given +in his youth by his portrayal of the <i>liveliness</i> of the place, he +shaded his picture in <i>The Countess</i> with a different pencil, and we +have a "stranded village" sketched to the life.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> It is of curious interest that although the poem +<i>Memories</i> was first published in 1841, the description of the +"beautiful and happy girl" in its opening lines is identical with that +of one of the characters in <i>Moll Pitcher</i>, published nine years +earlier, and I have authority for saying that Mary Smith was in mind +when that portrait was drawn. Probably the reason why Whittier never +allowed <i>Moll Pitcher</i> to be collected was because he used lines from +it in poems written at later dates.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> This is how it happened: Mr. Downey saw a newspaper item +to the effect that Mrs. S. F. Smith was a classmate of Whittier's. He +knew that his wife was a classmate of Mrs. Smith, and "put this and +that together." Without saying anything to her about it, he sent a +tract of his to Whittier, and with it a note about his work as an +evangelist; in a postscript he said, "Did you ever know Evelina Bray?" +Whittier wrote a criticism of the tract, which was against Colonel +Ingersoll, in which he said, "It occurs to me to say that in thy tract +there is hardly enough charity for that unfortunate man, who, it seems +to me, is much to be pitied for his darkness of unbelief." He added as +a postscript, "What does <i>thee</i> know about Evelina Bray?" Downey +replied that she was his wife, but did not let her know of this +correspondence, or of his receipt of money from her old schoolmate. He +was not poor, only eccentric.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> This house is now cared for by the Josiah Bartlett chapter +of the Daughters of the Revolution.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> The house of these brothers and the barn in which the +husking was held may be seen near the West Ossipee station of the +Boston and Maine Railroad. The Bearcamp House was burned many years +ago, and never rebuilt.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> There was a forest fire on a shoulder of Chocorua at this +time.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> She was knitting at the time.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> She had refused to sing that evening.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Lucy Larcom was then suffering from hay fever.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> The papers had an item to the effect that some one had +given Whittier a cottage at the Isles of Shoals.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> The only lawyer present.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> A line is here missing. I had the copy of this poem from +Mr. Weld himself when he was ninety years of age. He had accidentally +omitted it in copying for me; and his death occurred before the +omission was noticed.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> +<h2><big>INDEX</big></h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX</h2> + + +<p> +"Abram Morrison," <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Adrian," <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Agamenticus, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Aldrich, T. B., <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Allinson, Francis Greenleaf, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Allinson, W. J., <a href="#Page_39">39</a>.<br /> +<br /> +American Manufacturer, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Amesbury, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>-<a href="#Page_89">89</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Amesbury public library, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ancient desk, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Andover, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Anecdotes as told by Whittier:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aunt Mercy's vision, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Country Bridge ghost, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">conscience stirred by thunderstorm, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Elizabeth's practical joke, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the "tipsy wife," <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">cold drives to Amesbury, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Old Butler," <a href="#Page_36">36</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the Morse boys, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Garrison's first visit, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">a Quaker swaps cows, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"the power of figures," <a href="#Page_40">40</a>-<a href="#Page_42">42</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">instance of guidance of spirit, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">legend of Po Hill, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Chase characterizes Lincoln's stories, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hiram Collins and Emerson, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +Anecdotes related of Whittier:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Last visit to birthplace, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>-<a href="#Page_38">38</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the fire on the hearth, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">attempt at levitation, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">visits site of "In School Days," <a href="#Page_32">32</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">cherry-tree incident, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">story of Evelina Bray, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>-<a href="#Page_72">72</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">receives lightning stroke, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">taking notes at Quaker meeting, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">sees mirage at Salisbury Beach, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miss Phelps describes first meeting, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">thirteen at table, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">clock strikes mysteriously, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the May Quarterly Meeting, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">saving money for funeral expenses, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the pet parrot, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">husking at West Ossipee, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>-<a href="#Page_114">114</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">an evening at Bearcamp, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>-<a href="#Page_118">118</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alice Freeman Palmer's story, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">contract of perpetual bachelorhood, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his English Quaker guest, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">escapes dedication of Bartlett statue, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +Anti-Masonic poem, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Appledore, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Artichoke River, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"A Sea Dream," <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"A Song of Praises," <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ayer, Capt. Edmund, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ayer, Lydia, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ayer, Lydia Amanda (Mrs. Evans), <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ayer, Mrs., <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Bagley, Valentine, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bailey, Mary, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bailey's Hill, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bancroft, George, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Barnard, Mary, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bartlett, Josiah, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>-<a href="#Page_125">125</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bearcamp House, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>-<a href="#Page_117">117</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Beecher, Catherine, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Beecher, Henry Ward, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Birchy Meadow, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Birthplace of Whittier, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>-<a href="#Page_40">40</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Blaine, James G., <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Boar's Head, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bonny Beag, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Boon Island, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Boston "Statesman," <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Boutelle, Thomas E., <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Boyd, Rev. P. S., <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Boynton, E. Moody, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>-<a href="#Page_124">124</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bradbury, Judge, and wife, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bradford, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bradstreet, Anne, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bray, Evelina, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Brown's Hill, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Burnham, Thomas E., <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Burroughs, George, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Butler, Benjamin F., <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Butler, Philip, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Butters, Charles, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Byron, Lord, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>-<a href="#Page_136">136</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Caldwell, Adelaide, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Caldwell, Louis, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Caldwell, Mary (Whittier), <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cape Ann, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Captain's Well, The, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Carleton, James H., <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cartland, Gertrude (Whittier), <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cartland house, Newburyport, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cartland, Joseph, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Catalogue of father's library, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cate, George W., <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Centre Harbor, N. H., <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chain Bridge, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chamber in which Whittier died, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Changeling, The," <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chase, Aaron, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chase, Mrs. Moses, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chase, Salmon P., <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Child, Lydia Maria, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chocorua, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>-<a href="#Page_115">115</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Churchill, J. W., <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span><br /> +Claflin, William, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Clarkson, Thomas, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Clay, Henry, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Cobbler Keezar's Vision," <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Coffin, Joshua, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Coggswell, William, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Collier, Rev. William R., <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Collins, Hiram, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Common Question, The," <a href="#Page_97">97</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Corliss Hill, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>-<a href="#Page_32">32</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Countess, The," <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Country Bridge, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Country Brook, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>-<a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Crane Neck, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Currier, Horace, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Curson's Mill, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cushing, Caleb, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Dana, Charles A., <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Danvers, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Daughters of the Revolution, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Davis, Robert T., <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Deer Island, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>-<a href="#Page_60">60</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dickens, Charles, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Division, The," <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Douglass, Frederick, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Downey, Evelina (Bray), <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Downey, W. S., <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Duncan, Sarah M. F., <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dustin, Hannah, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +East Haverhill, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.<br /> +<br /> +East Haverhill church, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ela, Amelia, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Eleanor," <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ellwood's "Drab-Skirted Muse," <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Emerson, Nehemiah, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Emerson, Ralph Waldo, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Emmons, "Ginger-Pop," <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Essex Club, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Eternal Goodness, The," <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Eternity," <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Exiles, The," <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Fernside Brook, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ferry, the, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fields, Annie, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fields, James T., <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fletcher, Rev. J. C., <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ford, Miss, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Fountain, The," <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fox, George, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Fragment, A," <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Frankle, Annie W., <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fremont, J. C., <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Friend Street, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Friends' meeting-house, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Frietchie, Barbara, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Frinksborough, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +"Gail Hamilton's Wedding," <a href="#Page_120">120</a>-<a href="#Page_122">122</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Garden at birthplace, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Garden room, Amesbury, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>-<a href="#Page_71">71</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Garrison, William Lloyd, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Garrison's birthplace, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Golden Hill, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Goodspeed, C. E., <a href="#Page_51">51</a> note. <small>(TR: now <a href="#FOOTNOTES">Footnote 3</a>)</small><br /> +<br /> +"Goody" Martin, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gordon, "Chinese," <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gove, Sarah Abby, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Grave of Morgan, The," <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Green, Ruth, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Greene, Nathaniel, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Greenleaf, Sarah, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Grimké, Angelina, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Group at Sturtevant's, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Groveland, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +"Hamilton, Gail," <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>-<a href="#Page_122">122</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hampton Beach, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hampton Falls, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hampton marshes, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hampton River, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Haskell, George, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Haunted Bridge of Country Brook," <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Haverhill, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Haverhill Academy, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Haverhill Gazette," <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hawkswood, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hay, John, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Higginson, Thomas Wentworth, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hines, Peter, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hoar, George F., <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Holmes, Oliver Wendell, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Homecoming of the Bride, The," <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.<br /> +<br /> +How, George C., <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"How they climbed Chocorua," <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Howe, Julia Ward, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hume, Isabel, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Huntington, Jacob R., <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hussey, Mercy Evans, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Ichneumon, the living, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"In School Days," <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ipswich, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ireson, Capt. Benjamin, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Isles of Shoals, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"I would not lose that Romance Wild," <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Jackson, Andrew, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Job's Hill, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Johnson, Caroline, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Johnson, Mary, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"June on the Merrimac," <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Justice and Expediency," <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Kansas, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Kearsarge, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Kelley, Clarence E., <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Kimball's Pond, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Kitchen at birthplace, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_22">21</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a><br /> +<br /> +Knox brothers, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>-<a href="#Page_115">115</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Ladd, "Squire," <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lake Kenoza, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lansing, Miss, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Larcom, Lucy, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Last Walk in Autumn, The," <a href="#Page_56">56</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Last Will of Man in Bear-Trap, The," <a href="#Page_116">116</a>-<a href="#Page_118">118</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Laurels, The," <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lee, N. H., <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span><br /> +Little Boar's Head, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Livermore, Harriet, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lloyd, Elizabeth, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Longfellow, Henry W., <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lowell, James Russell, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +"Mabel Martin," <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Macy house, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Macy, Thomas, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Maids of Attitash, The," <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Map of Whittier-Land, <a href="#Page_xii">xii</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Marlboro Hotel, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Memorial, A," <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Memories," <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Menahga, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Merrimac, town, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Merrimac River, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Millvale, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Minot, Harriet (Mrs. Pitman), <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Miriam," <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mitford, Mary Russell, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Moll Pitcher," <a href="#Page_66">66</a> note <small>(TR: now <a href="#FOOTNOTES">Footnote 4</a>)</small>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Monadnock, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Morgan, William, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Morrill, Jettie, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Morse, "Goody," <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mother's room, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Moulton house, Hampton, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Moulton's Hill, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mount Washington, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mundy Hill, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"My Double," <a href="#Page_123">123</a>-<a href="#Page_125">125</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"My Namesake," <a href="#Page_39">39</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"My Playmate," <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +"Name, A," <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"National Era," <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Newbury, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Newburyport, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"New England," <a href="#Page_131">131</a>-<a href="#Page_134">134</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"New England Review," <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.<br /> +<br /> +New York "Tribune," <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"New Wife and the Old, The," <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Niagara Falls, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Nicholson, Elizabeth, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Northern Lights, The," <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Nottingham, N. H., <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Oak Knoll, Danvers, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ode for dedication of Academy, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Old Burying Ground, The," <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Old Oaken Bucket, The," <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Old South meeting-house, Newburyport, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"One of the Signers," <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ordway, Alfred A., <a href="#Page_17">17</a>-<a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ossipee range, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Our River," <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Ours," <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Palmer, Alice Freeman, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Passaconaway, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pawtuckaway range, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Peaslee house, "Old Garrison," <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Peaslee, Joseph, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Peaslee, Mary, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Pennsylvania Freeman," <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pennsylvania Hall, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pickard, Elizabeth (Whittier), <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pickard, Greenleaf Whittier, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pickard, S. T., <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pillsbury, Mary, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pleasant Valley, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Plum Island, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Plummer, Celeste, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Poems hitherto uncollected:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ode sung at dedication of Academy, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Catalogue of his father's library, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lines in album, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"A Retrospect," <a href="#Page_35">35</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The Plaint of the Merrimac," <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The Division," <a href="#Page_109">109</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"How they climbed Chocorua," <a href="#Page_111">111</a>-<a href="#Page_114">114</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"To the Unknown and Absent Author of 'How they climbed Chocorua,'" <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Last Will of Man in Bear-Trap," <a href="#Page_116">116</a>-<a href="#Page_118">118</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Weld epithalamium, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Gail Hamilton's Wedding," <a href="#Page_120">120</a>-<a href="#Page_122">122</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"My Double," <a href="#Page_123">123</a>-<a href="#Page_125">125</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I would not lose that Romance Wild," <a href="#Page_130">130</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"New England," <a href="#Page_131">131</a>-<a href="#Page_133">133</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"That Vow of Thine," <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The Spectre," <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"A Fragment," <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Eternity," <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Dead Ichneumon," <a href="#Page_139">139</a>-<a href="#Page_141">141</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Grave of Morgan," <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The Thunder Spirit," <a href="#Page_143">143</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Worship of Nature," <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Northern Lights," <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The Willow," <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Uses of Sorrow," <a href="#Page_149">149</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"We're Free," <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Fremont's Ride," <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The Times," <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Song of Praises," <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +Po Hill, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pond Hills, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Porter, Dudley, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Porter, J. S., <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Portland, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Powow River, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>-<a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Preacher, The," <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Pressed Gentian, The," <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Purchase of birthplace, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Ramoth Hill, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Relic, The," <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Revisited," <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Reunion of schoolmates, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.<br /> +<br /> +River Path, picture of, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"River Path, The," <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>.<br /> +<br /> +River valley, near grave of Countess, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rocks Bridge, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rocks Village, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rocky Hill, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rocky Hill meeting-house, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rogers, John, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rowley, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Salisbury, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Salisbury Beach, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Salisbury Point, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Saltonstall mansion, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sanders, Susan B., <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span><br /> +"Sea Dream, A," <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Scene on Country Brook, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sewel's "Painful History," <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Silver Hill, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Smith, Joseph Lindon, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Smith, Mary Emerson, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Smith, S. F., <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Smith, Mrs. S. F., <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Snow-Bound," <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Snow-Bound barn, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Snow-Bound kitchen, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>-<a href="#Page_52">52</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Somersworth, N. H., <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Song of Praises, A," <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sparhawk, Dr. Thomas, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Spectre, The," <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Spofford, Harriet Prescott, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stanton, Edwin M., <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stowe, Harriet Beecher, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sturge, Joseph, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>-<a href="#Page_65">65</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sturtevant, Miss, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sturtevant, Mrs., <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sturtevant's, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sumner, Charles, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sycamores, the, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Tallant, Hugh, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tappan, Lewis, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Taylor, Bayard, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Taylor, Henry, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Taylor, Marie, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Telling the Bees," <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Tent on the Beach, The," <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"That Vow of Thine," <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Thaxter, Celia, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Thayer, Abijah W., <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Thayer, Sarah S., <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Thomas, Mary Emerson (Smith), <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Thoreau, Henry D., <a href="#Page_5">5</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Thornton, Sir Edward, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Times, The," <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"To My Old Schoolmaster," <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tracy, Mrs., <a href="#Page_49">49</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Trowbridge, J. T., <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Turner, Judge, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Union Cemetery, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Unity," <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Up and Down the Merrimac," <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Uses of Sorrow, The," <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Wachusett, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wade, Mrs., <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wakeman, Rev. Mr., <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ward, Elizabeth Phelps, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Washington, George, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Weld, Dr. Elias, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>-<a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Weld, Theodore D., <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wendell, Ann, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"We 're Free," <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.<br /> +<br /> +West, Mary S., <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.<br /> +<br /> +West Ossipee, N. H., <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whiteface, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whitefield church, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whitefield, George, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whittier, Abigail, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>-<a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whittier, Elizabeth H., <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>-<a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whittier Hill, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whittier home, Amesbury, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>-<a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whittier, John, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whittier, John Greenleaf,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">reviews Boyd's "Up and Down the Merrimac," <a href="#Page_4">4</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">interest in psychical research, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">catalogues his father's library, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>; his</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">early pessimism, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>-<a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">letter to Dr. Weld, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">carrier's address quoted, <a href="#Page_51">51</a> note; <small>(TR: now <a href="#FOOTNOTES">Footnote 3</a>)</small></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">removal to Amesbury, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">tribute of Essex Club, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">friendship for schoolmates, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>-<a href="#Page_72">72</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">reason why never married, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">portrait at age of twenty-two, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">prostrated by lightning, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">person referred to in "Memories" and "My Playmate," <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">receives bullet wound, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">at town meeting, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">home life sketched by Higginson, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">plans Friends' meeting-house, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">preferred silent meetings, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">interest in psychical research, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his cemetery lot, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">care for Amesbury public library, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">portrait at age of forty-nine, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his Boston homes, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">letter to Newbury celebration, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">radical change in his spirit, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">peculiarity of his laugh, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +Whittier, Joseph, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whittier, Joseph, 2d, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whittier, Mary, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whittier, Matthew Franklin, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whittier mill, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whittier, Moses, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whittier, Obadiah, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whittier, Thomas, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Willow, The," <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Winthrop Hotel, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Winthrop, Robert C., <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Witch's Daughter, The," <a href="#Page_56">56</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Wood Giant, The," <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Woodman, Mrs. Abby, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Worship of Nature, The," <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.<br /> +<br /> +"Wreck of Rivermouth, The," <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>A LIST OF THE WORKS<br /><br /> +<small>OF</small><br /><br /> +<span class="serif">John Greenleaf Whittier</span></h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image164.png" width="600" height="58" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2> +Writings of<br /><br /> +JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER<br /> +</h2> + +<p class="center"><small><i>No edition of the Poetical and Prose Writings of John +Greenleaf Whittier is complete and authorized which does +not bear the imprint of Houghton Mifflin Company.</i></small></p> + + +<h3>COMPLETE WORKS</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>Riverside Edition.</i> In 7 volumes.</p> + + +<h4><i>POETRY</i></h4> + +<p>1. Narrative and Legendary Poems.</p> + +<p>2. Poems of Nature; Poems Subjective and Reminiscent; +Religious Poems.</p> + +<p>3. Anti-Slavery; Songs of Labor and Reform.</p> + +<p>4. Personal Poems; Occasional Poems; Tent on +the Beach; Appendix.</p> + + +<h4><i>PROSE</i></h4> + +<p>1. Margaret Smith's Journal; Tales and Sketches.</p> + +<p>2. Old Portraits and Modern Sketches; Personal +Sketches and Tributes; Historical Papers.</p> + +<p>3. The Conflict with Slavery; Politics and Reform; +The Inner Life; Criticism.</p> + +<p class="center"><small>Each volume, crown 8vo, gilt top; the set, $10.50. With +"Life of Whittier" (2 vols.) by <span class="smcap">Samuel T. Pickard</span>, +9 vols., $14.50.</small></p> + + +<h3>PROSE WORKS</h3> + +<p><i>Riverside Edition.</i> With Notes by the Author, and etched +Portrait. 3 vols. crown 8vo, gilt top, $4.50.</p> + + +<h3>POEMS</h3> + +<p><i>Riverside Edition.</i> With Portraits, Notes, etc. 4 vols., +crown 8vo, gilt top, $6.00.</p> + +<p><i>Handy-Volume Edition.</i> With Portraits, and a View of +Whittier's Oak Knoll Home. 4 vols., 16mo, gilt top, +in cloth box, $4.00. Bound in full, flexible leather, +$10.00.</p> + +<p><i>Cambridge Edition.</i> With a Biographical Sketch, Notes, +Index to Titles and First Lines, a Portrait, and an +engraving of Whittier's Amesbury Home. Large +crown 8vo, gilt top, $2.00.</p> + +<p><i>Library Edition.</i> With Portrait and 8 full-page Photogravures. +8vo, gilt top, $2.50.</p> + +<p><i>Household Edition.</i> With Portrait and Illustrations. +Crown 8vo, $1.50.</p> + +<p><i>Cabinet Edition.</i> From new plates, with numbered lines, +and Portrait. 16mo, gilt top, $1.00.</p> + + +<h4><i>SEPARATE POEMS</i></h4> + +<p><b>Snow-Bound.</b> A Winter Idyl. <i>Holiday Edition.</i> With +eight Photogravures and Portrait. 16mo, gilt top, +$1.50.</p> + +<p><b>The Tent on the Beach.</b> <i>Holiday Edition.</i> With rubricated +Initials and 12 full-page Photogravure Illustrations +by <span class="smcap">Charles H. Woodbury</span> and <span class="smcap">Marcia O. +Woodbury</span>. 12mo, gilt top, $1.50.</p> + +<p><b>At Sundown.</b> With Portrait and 8 Photogravures. +16mo, gilt top, $1.50.</p> + +<p><b>Legends and Lyrics.</b> 16mo, gilt top, 75 cents.</p> + + +<h3>COMPILATIONS</h3> + +<p><b>Birthday Book.</b> With Portrait and 12 Illustrations. +18mo, $1.00.</p> + +<p><b>Calendar Book.</b> 32mo, parchment-paper, 25 cents.</p> + +<p><b>Year Book.</b> With Portrait. 18mo, $1.00.</p> + +<p><b>Text and Verse.</b> For Every Day in the Year. Scripture +Passages and Parallel Selections from <span class="smcap">Whittier's</span> +Writings. 32mo, 75 cents.</p> + + +<h3>EDITED BY MR. WHITTIER</h3> + +<p><b>Songs of Three Centuries.</b> <i>Library Edition.</i> With +40 full-page Illustrations. 8vo, gilt top, $2.50.</p> + +<p><i>Household Edition.</i> Much enlarged. Crown 8vo, $1.50.</p> + +<p><b>Child-Life.</b> A Collection of Poems for and about +Children. <i>New Edition.</i> Finely Illustrated. 4to, +$1.50.</p> + +<p><b>Child-Life in Prose.</b> A Volume of Stories, Fancies, +and Memories of Child-Life. Finely Illustrated. +Crown 8vo, gilt top, $2.00.</p> + + +<p class="center"><small>Many of the above editions may be had in leather +bindings of various styles.</small></p> + +<p class="center"><big>HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY</big><br /> + +4 Park Street, Boston. 85 Fifth Ave., New York</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image166.png" width="600" height="58" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3> + + +<p>Contents: Added listing for Footnotes.</p> + +<p>Some illustrations have been moved to avoid breaking up poems and +paragraphs of text. The List of Illustrations displays the original +page numbers, but links to the images.</p> + +<p>Spaced contractions have been retained from the original book.</p> + +<p>Omitted lines of poetry are indicated by a row of 5 dots.</p> + +<p>Index: Corrected page references for:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hussey, Mercy Evans, from 21 to 22.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whittier, John Greenleaf, portrait at age of forty-nine, from 95 to 97.</span><br /> +</p> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Whittier-land, by Samuel T. Pickard + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITTIER-LAND *** + +***** This file should be named 29754-h.htm or 29754-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/7/5/29754/ + +Produced by K. 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