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WHITTIER'S UNKNOWN ROMANCE 
 
WHITTIER'S 
 UNKNOWN ROMANCE 
 
 LETTERS TO 
 
 ELIZABETH LLOYD 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY . 
 
 MARIE V. DENERVAUD ^ 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 1922 
 

 COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY MARIE V. DENERVAUD 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 / 
 
 DCT13V>: ';^ 
 
 gciA683651 (/ 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 INTRODUCTION vil 
 
 letters to elizabeth lloyd 1 
 
 letters to mrs. nball, e. l.'s sister 66 
 
 Milton's prayer of patience, poem by Eliza- 
 beth LLOYD 71 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Samuel T. Pickard, in his Life and Letters of John 
 Greenleaf Whittier, quotes the reminiscences of 
 Whittier's Philadelphia life, written by Susan E. 
 Dickenson. She says : " Among the young women to 
 whom we girls looked up with interest and admira- 
 tion in those days was Elizabeth Lloyd, Jr., author 
 of many beautiful poems, and there was a special 
 glamour attached to her, because she was under- 
 stood to be one of the very few with whom Whittier 
 was really on terms of warm personal friendship, 
 outside of his firm and faithful comradeship with 
 his anti-slavery friends." 
 
 There had long been a tradition in the Lloyd 
 family that Whittier had been in love with Eliza- 
 beth; that he had wanted to marry her in the early 
 days, in Philadelphia, and again, after her husband 
 had died; and that it was because of this that he had 
 never married. These letters, left by Elizabeth to 
 her sister, Hannah Lloyd Neall, confirmed this tra- 
 dition, and now it seems well that their record of 
 love and friendship should not be lost. Whittier 
 
Viil INTRODUCTION 
 
 says in one of the letters, "What the world suffers 
 from is the lack of love, not the excess of it." The 
 spirit of a love of such simplicity and purity and 
 sweetness breathes through these letters, that it 
 throws an added lustre on the character of the poet. 
 
 Elizabeth Lloyd, Jr., was born in Philadelphia, 
 August 19, 1811. She developed a strong literary 
 talent, and wrote some remarkable poems at an 
 early age. One of them, "Milton's Prayer of Pa- 
 tience," published anonymously, was believed to 
 have been written by Milton, and is included among 
 his poems in several editions. 
 
 At the time that Whittier was first in Philadel- 
 phia in 1837, he often visited the Lloyd family, and 
 he was greatly charmed by Elizabeth, who was not 
 only beautiful, but witty and brilliant. In 1853 
 Elizabeth married Robert Howell, who was not a 
 member of the Society of Friends, and in conse- 
 quence the wedding could not be solemnized in the 
 Friends Meeting. Indeed, the rules of the Society of 
 Friends were so strict at that time that, although 
 she was married in her father's house, her parents 
 did not feel that they could be present at the wed- 
 ding, though most of the younger members of the 
 family were there. Elizabeth was "read out of 
 
INTRODUCTION IX 
 
 Meeting " for having married outside of the Society, 
 but she registered so strong a protest that she was 
 readmitted. Whittier says of this: "I cannot tell 
 thee how rejoiced I am to hear of thy success in 
 maintaining thy place in our Society. It is a very 
 rare instance. I scarcely know of another like it." 
 
 After three years of married life — a period 
 "which, brief as it was, had the length of years in its 
 completeness" — Robert Howell died. It was sev- 
 eral years after this that Elizabeth and Whittier 
 met again, and it was in this later period that most 
 of these letters were written. 
 
 While deeply attracted to each other, they were 
 temperamentally very different; the romance never 
 culminated, but it added a richness and under- 
 standing to both their lives which was a treasure to 
 them always. 
 
 Hawthorne, in his Journal, gives this picture of 
 Elizabeth: "As I was sitting in the boudoir this 
 morning, Mrs. Peters came in, and said that a lady 
 wanted to see me. The visitor was a lady, quite 
 young and comely, with pleasant and intelligent 
 eyes, in a pretty Quaker dress. She offered me her 
 hand, and spoke with much simplicity of her inter- 
 est in my work, and of Lowell, Whittier, James, 
 
X INTRODUCTION 
 
 Melville, the scenery, and of various other matters. 
 Her manners were very agreeable : the Quaker sim- 
 plicity, and the little touch of Quaker phraseology, 
 gave piquancy to her refinement, and air of society. 
 She had a pleasant smile and eyes that readily re- 
 sponded to one's thoughts, so that it was not diffi- 
 cult to talk to her; a singular, but yet a gentle free- 
 dom in expressing her own opinions; an entire ab- 
 sence of affectation; and on the whole it was the 
 only pleasant visit I ever experienced in my capac- 
 ity of author. She did not bore me with laudations 
 of my own writings, but merely said that there are 
 some authors with whom we feel ourselves privi- 
 leged to become acquainted by the nature of our 
 sympathy with their writings — or something to 
 that effect. Finally she rose to depart and I ushered 
 her to the gate, where, as she took leave, she told me 
 her name — Elizabeth Lloyd — and bidding me 
 farewell, she went on her way, and I saw her no 
 more." 
 
 Marie V. Denervaud 
 Boston, March, 1922 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 
 
WHITTIER'S 
 UNKNOWN ROMANCE 
 
 LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 
 1 
 
 Amesbury, 28, 8 month [1841?] 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 I did not think when I left Philadelphia that so 
 long a period would pass without hearing from thee 
 and thine : — but I suppose the fault will be charged 
 as usual upon myself. How have you passed the 
 summer? What have you read and written? What 
 new combinations, beautiful or grotesque, has the 
 kaleidoscope of existence exhibited? Does Eliza- 
 beth Nicholson still exercise her good-natured wit 
 at the expense of her friends? Perhaps, however, 
 long ere this you have quarrelled with each other 
 and like Coleridge's barons, when — 
 
 "Never either found another 
 To free the hollow heart from paining," 
 
 or one or the other of you may have found a new 
 object of attention, and, like Cousin Margaret and 
 
2 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 Martha, have no further use for old friends! For 
 who can calculate upon the changes which the 
 "Whirligig of Time" may effect in three short 
 months? I sometimes shudder when I think of the 
 mighty interests, the changes, the life and death, 
 the meetings and farewells, the joy, the agonies that 
 are compressed into a single moment of time ! But I 
 will not trouble thee with my serious moods, 
 
 I have not seen Ann Wendell since I left her at 
 Providence, soon after Yearly Meeting. I have 
 heard incidentally that she was quite unwell at 
 Newport, but delayed writing and did not know 
 whether she was there or at home. Elizabeth wrote 
 her some time ago, but rec'd no answer. We hope to 
 hear that she has recovered from her illness. 
 
 Before John Canellen and wife left this country, 
 they persuaded me to send out to them a few of my 
 poems, as they v/ished to have them republished in 
 England. I find that I cannot obtain the pieces here 
 which I want. Is it asking too much of thee and 
 Elizabeth Nicholson to request you to copy for 
 them the following pieces? — "Thomas Chalkley," 
 "Lines on Receiving a Cane of the Pa. Hall Ruins," 
 "The Exiles, a Tale of New England, " " The Norse- 
 man," "Gov. Porter," "The New Year's Address 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 3 
 
 for 1830 in the Pa. Freeman," " The Funeral Tree of 
 the Sokokis," "The Cypress Tree of Ceylon," "The 
 World's Convention," "Daniel Wheeler." If you 
 could, at your leisure, copy them for me, and place 
 them in the hands of some one who is coming on to 
 Salem or Lynn, you will confer a favor upon me, for 
 which I shall feel grateful. 
 
 I have only time to add that both E. and myself 
 would rejoice to hear from thee, whenever thee has a 
 disposition to converse by letter with thy friends on 
 the banks of the Merrimac. Elizabeth is sick with a 
 headache, and I fear cannot write by this opportu- 
 nity. 
 
 Ever and truly thy friend. 
 
 Amesbury, 11, 4 month, 1842 
 My dear Friend E. L., 
 
 Eureka! it is found! The package of MSS. which 
 thee and Elizabeth Nicholson were kind enough to 
 copy for me is at hand. Some three months ago, 
 when I was away, a bundle of papers came to the 
 P.O. for me: so I was told. As the postmaster said 
 they were sealed up at both ends, and that he 
 should therefore not let me have them as so many 
 
4 WHITTIER'S UNKNOWN ROMANCE 
 
 papers, I paid no further attention to it, but left it as 
 I had a hundred things of the kind before, to find its 
 way to the General Post-Office. The other day I 
 was in the P.O. and the postmaster put this package 
 into my hands, and said it was, he believed, MS. 
 and not newspapers, and I saw at once thy hand- 
 writing. So that mystery is solved. Many thanks to 
 you both for your kindness, and I trust I shall some 
 day be able in part to reciprocate it, although I 
 am afraid I am not half grateful enough for the 
 pains which my friends so cheerfully take to oblige 
 me. 
 
 This letter will be taken to P. by a young friend of 
 Sister's and mine, Harriet Maitland, of Portland, 
 Me., a girl of fine mind. She has written some beau- 
 tiful pieces of poetry, strongly imbued with the new 
 Boston philosophy. I wish thee could know her, as 
 well as her sister Louisa M. Sewall, of Boston, who 
 is also with her at Philadelphia, in company with 
 their sick mother. 
 
 I regretted to find by Ann's letter that thee had 
 not been well this winter: but art thou not glad the 
 Spring has at last come? For myself I feel thankful 
 for it : but our east winds here are dreadful and will 
 grow worse for the next six weeks. I long to be in 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 5 
 
 Philadelphia, mainly to see you all — but partly to 
 escape these bitter blue Northeasters. 
 
 Tell Elizabeth Nicholson that by great good for- 
 tune she escaped getting printed in that Boston 
 Book. It was a failure compared to our North Star 
 — an utter failure. I am glad for your sakes that 
 you are not immortalized in it. Your [an indeciph- 
 erable word], etc., was the admiration of Boston 
 folks. 
 
 J. Story's book is, I understand, in preparation 
 for republication here. What will Friends do with 
 him? I am writing in a gallop, as I have only a 
 moment more to spare. Has thee seen "Zanoni," 
 Bulwer's new mysticism? I have read it because my 
 organ of marvelousness got excited by hearing about 
 it. I ought not to read such things, but I can't well 
 help it sometimes. Elizabeth Nicholson speaks in 
 her letter about L. and H. Hoag. Did thee meet 
 them? and did n't thee like them? They are our 
 best sort of folks, the excellent of the earth. 
 
 In great haste; so pardon my blunders, and re- 
 member me kindly to all the family and believe me 
 truly thy friend. 
 
 P.S. Do send me something from thy pen. I 
 know thee has something written. 
 
O WHITTIER S UNKNOWN ROMANCE 
 
 3 
 Amesbury, 20, 8 mo., 1842 
 My dear Friend Elizabeth, 
 
 I embrace a spare moment — a lull in the unmit- 
 igated gale of talk which we have had since our 
 friend W. J. A. has been with us — to write thee a 
 line — not, however, a letter — and if I write inco- 
 herently attribute the odd ideas to W. J. A., who, 
 dispite his hoarseness from a cold, has been abun- 
 dant in his conversational dispensations. We were 
 very glad to see him and hear directly from so 
 many of our Philadelphia friends. My friends, like 
 Charles Lamb's, are to me a glorious possession — 
 a rich mine of wealth — calling forth from my heart 
 a silent thanksgiving when I look them over in mem- 
 ory as a miser does his gold, one by one passing in 
 their varied beauty and goodness before me. Is it 
 nothing that I have felt the kindly smile of the pure- 
 hearted Follen "shding into my soul," that I have 
 enjoyed the rare and beautiful companionship of 
 Lucy Hooper, and of others who, though dead to the 
 world, are to me living realities? Who shall set a 
 value in the world's coin upon the worth of the intel- 
 lectual communion I have enjoyed, and still enjoy, 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 7 
 
 with the Channings, the Pierponts, the Longfellows, 
 and the Bryants, with the Welds and Binneys and 
 the Goodells, and others engaged in the cause of hu- 
 manity? And my correspondence — what a comfort 
 to look over old, friendly letters ! — to anticipate 
 new ones! And thy letters and thy poetical sketches 
 which I have, I estimate highly. They are unlike 
 others — unique — the poetry of Quakerdom — 
 graceful yet with a solemn beauty and reverence 
 which reminds one of the Quaker gallery, with its 
 fine selections from the oriental richness of the 
 Scriptures. Is n't it time, by the way, for that pic- 
 ture gallery of the Friends to be forthcoming? Of 
 course thou art engaged upon it : as it would be very 
 wrong to let my concern in the matter fall to the 
 ground. 
 
 Will Alleson wanted to make a visit to the old 
 farm at Haverhill; so off we went, like Southey's 
 pilgrims to Compostella. Was n't it very closely 
 verging on the sublime of the ridiculous? But let me 
 warn thee and thy friends not to laugh about it. 
 Look upon it as a serious matter. Sister E. laughs at 
 it in spite of my gravity, and thinks it altogether un- 
 canonical for a saint to visit his own shrine. 
 
 I am interrupted — I cannot even allude to thy 
 
8 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 kind unanswered letter: but must find some other 
 opportunity. 
 
 In haste thy friend. 
 P.S. E. read me a paragraph from a note of thine 
 about "Zanoni." Thee calls it a wicked book, and I 
 suppose the sin of thy reading it will fall upon my 
 head. Does n't thee suppose that was the very iden- 
 tical " book of Imagination " against which the good 
 old Friends spoke at North Meeting last year at the 
 Yearly Meeting time? 
 
 4 
 
 Second day morning 
 William goes this morning in the seven o'clock 
 conveyance, and as he will probably show thee a 
 little poem of mine which I have copied for him, I 
 wish to state that it was not written for publication, 
 but wholly for the person to whom it was addressed 
 — a Western young lady of much intelligence. I 
 accompanied it with a copy of Woolman. I don't 
 think I ever wrote thee of Jerryman, a friend of 
 mine, a clergyman, the admirable translator of the 
 beautiful and graceful German poem of "Undine." 
 In a late letter to me he says: " It is beautiful to rec- 
 ognize in a man who lived more than 100 years ago 
 
LETTEBS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 9 
 
 the lineaments of the same divine spirit which we 
 have so lately seen manifested in our loved and lost 
 Follen. A sublime singleness and purity and lofti- 
 ness of purpose combined with tenderness almost 
 feminine equally marked these heroic children of 
 God and disciples of Jesus. How glorious their un- 
 compromising integrity! Did not the difference be- 
 tween them consist mainly in development? Born 
 in Germany in the present century, cannot we ima- 
 gine that Woolman would have resembled our late 
 friend, that his profound inward searchings into the 
 mysterious abysses of the soul, his detection of 
 things that actually differed though seemingly alike, 
 his fearless separation of the detected evil motives 
 mixed with the good, would all have made him a 
 worthy composer of the educated preacher of right- 
 eousness; yet, however different their intellectual 
 culture, these devoted Christians, though divided 
 in this world in time and space by a century, may 
 have already met and embraced with a joyful real- 
 ity of union which we are not now able to appre- 
 hend." I was pleased with the sentiment, and have 
 copied it, thinking it might interest thee. 
 
 In haste. 
 
10 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 5 
 Amesbury, 1, 12 mo., 1850 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 A letter which I have just read from a mutual 
 friend, W. J. A., has conveyed to me the painful 
 news of your great bereavement and has filled my 
 heart with deep sympathy with you all in your hour 
 of trial. 
 
 I know something of your feelings for I, too, have 
 often felt the solemn sorrow which afflicts you. 
 Alas! the shadow of the cypress falls across all our 
 paths. 
 
 From all that I knew of your honored parent, I 
 have ever regarded him as a true strong man, fine in 
 the performance of what he felt to be duty, in the 
 church and among his fellow men at large, and with 
 deep and intense affections, not the less strong that 
 they were not always demonstrative. Oh, it is a 
 great loss for you; but his peaceful, triumphant end 
 affords the best consolation. He has passed away 
 from trial and sorrow and evil times and tongues of 
 unkindness and is, we fervently trust, with the 
 great and exceeding peace of (jod. We feel that 
 with him it is well. 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 11 
 
 My dear sister would join me in writing, but she 
 is not well to-day. Her love and sympathy are with 
 you. 
 
 We think of you all: of thy dear mother, and of 
 Sarah and Hannah. What can we say but to com- 
 mend you all to the love of Him who does not afflict 
 willingly : and to entreat you to arouse yourselves to 
 the performance of the duties which devolve upon 
 you, as the best means of enduring your loss. Think 
 of others; think of the suffering and sad, and if you 
 can make one of these poor ones happier you will 
 feel the sweet reflection of that happiness in your 
 hearts. But your hearts will be better suggesters 
 than I : weak, inconsistent, and erring as I feel my- 
 self to be. 
 
 Say to our friend William J, Alleson when thee 
 sees him, that I am truly grateful for his kind letter, 
 and that it is not the want of time so much as my 
 illness which has made me seemingly neglectful of 
 his correspondence. He has been a true and valued 
 friend to me, and I am not insensible on that score. 
 My love to him and his family. 
 
 Thy sympathizing friend. 
 
12 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 6 
 
 Amesbury, 4, 2 mo. [1855] 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 When I received thy kind letter last winter, in- 
 viting me to thy new home, I hoped long ere this to 
 be able to acknowledge it in person, but a wise Prov- 
 idence has seen meet to order it otherwise, and un- 
 less some unexpected change takes place in my 
 health, I fear I must forgo the pleasure altogether. 
 The winter has been unfavorable to me, — open, 
 damp and changeable, — and I dread the coming 
 Spring. 
 
 I cannot tell thee how rejoiced I am to hear of thy 
 success in maintaining thy place in our Society. It 
 is a very rare instance. I scarcely know of another 
 like it. Appeals of the kind, whatever may have 
 been their merits, have generally resulted in an en- 
 dorsement of the subordinate meeting's proceedings. 
 
 I hear occasionally from Hannah by way of 
 James' sister, Lydia Rowell. I am glad to know that 
 she enjoys her novel life in the strange land of gold. 
 
 Does thee see the reports of our friend Russell 
 Lowell's lectures on the English poets? They are 
 very admirable performances. I must send thee 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 13 
 
 those on Milton and the Old Metrical Romances. 
 The last is full of humor and genius. 
 
 Millburn, the blind chaplain of Congress, gave a 
 very eloquent lecture before the Boston Lyceum 
 a few weeks ago. He closed it by reciting thy lines 
 on Milton on his blindness, with very great effect. 
 The Boston papers quote with high terms of eulogy 
 the stanzas of the "Philadelphia Quakeress." I 
 have always regarded it as a really great poem. 
 Why does thee not write more? 
 
 We have very quiet winters here and see very 
 little company. My friend Waldo Emerson usually 
 makes me a visit, and I have flying calls from Whip- 
 ple, James T. Fields, Dr. Bowditch, and others of 
 my Boston friends. We see very few Friends out of 
 our little meeting. I suppose thee knows that Ger- 
 trude E. Whittier is engaged to Joseph Cartland. 
 We are in hopes they will settle within the limits of 
 our meeting. 
 
 The last arrival brings the sad news of Mary Mit- 
 ford's death. It was to me very unexpected. I had 
 a long letter from her dated the 22, the 11 month, 
 cheerful and hopeful. Somehow she seemed so full 
 of life and enjoyment, so satisfied with the present, 
 so hearty in her sympathy with all things about her, 
 
14 WHITTIEr's unknown ROxMANCE 
 
 that I find it hard to think of her as one who has 
 been and is not. Oh, this mystery of Death! How 
 dark and fearful it would be but for our faith in the 
 Divine Goodness. 
 
 I am glad to see that thy husband feels an interest 
 in the freedom of Kansas. I enclose a copy of some 
 lines of mine, written, as Ell wood says, in a "droll- 
 ing style" last summer. President Wayland, of 
 Brown University, in a notice of them said they 
 were worth all the sermons that had been preached 
 on the subject, and that it was the only way to deal 
 with pro-slavery missions. Does thee see or hear 
 anything of Ann Wendell now? I write so seldom 
 that I do not often hear from her. I am sorry to 
 learn that Margaret's husband is quite ill. 
 
 Pray write me and let us know all about thee and 
 thine. We do not forget our old friends, and would 
 not have them forget us. It would give me great 
 pleasure to know thy husband (of whom everybody 
 speaks in praise). Farewell, dear Elizabeth, and 
 may Heaven bless thee always. 
 Ever thy friend, 
 
 J. G. Whittier. 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 15 
 
 7 
 
 528 Spruce St., 11 mo., 2nd 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 I was sorry I did not get thy note until yesterday 
 afternoon, when I could not get away from com- 
 pany. To-day I am not well enough to go out in the 
 rain, or I should not content myself with writing. 
 I shall, if possible call on thee to-morrow afternoon. 
 I cannot bear the thought of losing these golden 
 moments of opportunity for communion with thee. 
 Life is too short for ceremony among friends. 
 Deeply grateful to the kind Providence which has 
 permitted us to meet once more, I feel that I am 
 not at liberty to neglect the blessing. 
 
 I know thee will congratulate me when I tell thee 
 that I have fairly eaten my way through my dinner 
 and supper table engagements, and am free from 
 all demands of the kind, and mean to keep so for 
 the present. 
 
 I will be ready to go to Edna Yarnall's when thou 
 art ready to accompany me. I hope thy eyes do not 
 trouble thee again. I wish I could cure them as thee 
 did my head, the other day; perhaps if thy faith 
 were as strong as mine was, I might do so. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
16 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 8 
 
 Second Day 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 As I am not allowed to step over thy threshold 
 to-day, I must needs write to enquire what prospect 
 there is of my having that "counterfeit present- 
 ment," which I assure thee will be worth more to 
 me than a whole gallery of Old World Madonnas 
 and saints. I meant to have spoken of it yesterday 
 but in the presence of the original, I entirely forgot 
 the picture. If I possibly can, I will see Andrew 
 Longacre to-day and ascertain about it and report 
 upon it to thee this evening. 
 
 Aff— 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
 9 
 
 Fourth Day 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 As I cannot well get an opportunity to see thee 
 this morning, I must tell thee how thoroughly I 
 enjoyed my visit last evening. Thy friend Caroline 
 Yarnall, surrounded by her agreeable family, seems 
 to me to be a very lovable woman. She has great 
 delicacy of refinement, and I was agreeably disap- 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 17 
 
 pointed in her liberal tone and feeling. She received 
 me more like a brother than a stranger, and I shall 
 always remember my visit with pleasure. I wish 
 thou couldst have been with us. 
 
 Ah me ! these days glide on, and I shall soon have 
 to set my face towards the sunrise. I shall carry 
 with me many regrets, but many sweet and precious 
 memories also. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 J. G. W. 
 10 
 Amesbury, 17th, 5th. mo., 1859 
 
 Dear E., 
 
 I write thee a single line to say that I arrived 
 home last night, and found my friends well as usual. 
 
 I have thought much of thee, Dear E., in thy 
 lonely retreat, and long to know how it is with thee, 
 yet I do not wish thee to write more than a line or 
 two. Fatigue and a basket full of letters to be an- 
 swered, as well as other duties, oblige me to be brief 
 this morning. In a day or two, I will make amends 
 for this. Elizabeth sends her love — of mine, thee 
 needst no assurance. 
 
 Ever affectionately, 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
18 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 11 
 
 Amesbury, 18th 5th mo. 1859 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 I liked thy letter (most welcome I assure thee) 
 but feared that thy eyes might be suffering while I 
 was enjoying it. Do not, dear E., feel obliged to 
 answer my letters. Write when thou canst — one 
 word or ten. The very blank paper which thy hand 
 has folded for my sake will be dear to me. 
 
 I thank thee for thy words of sympathy, and for 
 the thought of meeting me on the threshold of my 
 home, with a word of kindness. It seemed to me 
 that I felt thy sympathy; all things seemed brighter, 
 and all the new burdens and cares which I took up 
 hghter and easier for thy sake. 
 
 Elizabeth, I have been happy — far more so than 
 I ever expected in this life. The sweet memory of 
 the past few weeks makes me rich forever. What 
 Providence has in store for the future I know not, — 
 I dare not hope scarcely, — but the past is mine — 
 may I not say ours — sacred and beautiful, a joy 
 forever. Asking nothing of thee, and with the ten- 
 derest regard for thy griefs and memories, I have 
 given thee what was thine by right — the love of an 
 

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LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 19 
 
 honest heart — not as a restraint or burden upon 
 thee, imposing no obHgation and calling for no so- 
 licitude on thy part as respects myself. Nobody is 
 a loser by loving or being beloved. 
 
 I feared thou wouldst be sadly tired and sick on 
 reaching Elmira, after so hurried a departure. I 
 hope ere this reaches thee thou wilt be better. I 
 sometimes think it would have been as well for thee 
 to have spent the summer with us. Our country 
 here is then beautiful — cool and bracing with sea- 
 air; and we could have given thee a large, pleasant 
 chamber looking over the Northwestern hills. We 
 have fine drives — Salisbury Beach is only 4 miles 
 away — and we might have had a delightful season. 
 But it is probably best as it is. 
 
 Yesterday I attended our little meeting, cordially 
 welcomed by our friends. It was pleasant to sit once 
 more with "mine own people." Bird-songs floated 
 in upon us from without on breezes sweet with 
 the odors of the greening spring: — the irreverent 
 bob-o-link adding his rollicking "Negro melodies." 
 
 The picture is safe in its handsome oval, velvet 
 case. Meade & Co., who put it up, pronounced it 
 "a beautiful face, beautifully painted." How much 
 pleasure it will give me! 
 
20 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 Dear sister Lizzie is not well — tired out with 
 getting the girls off to Providence, and with com- 
 pany which has thronged us of late. She sends her 
 love, and has a grateful sense of thy sympathy. 
 
 Don't try to write much if it pains thee to do so. 
 I will write whenever I can. I have been very busy 
 and am very tired. Heaven bless, and keep thee! 
 
 J. G. W. 
 12 
 
 Amesbury, 9th, 6th mo. 1859 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 I am half sick to-day and have been so for two or 
 three days past, unable to do anything but inflict 
 myself upon somebody else. And, as I cannot get to 
 thee in person, what better can I do than send my 
 shadow? It was taken this spring by a wandering 
 pedlar in our village. I thought to send it to my 
 dear friend James Staye, but delayed doing so hop- 
 ing to get something better until it was too late. I 
 don't think much of it : and I fear thee will not, but 
 there may be times when even such a ''counterfeit 
 presentment " of thy friend may be welcome — or, 
 as Mrs. Stowe's Candace would say, "better than 
 nuffin." 
 
 I fear, dear, thou art suffering a great deal; in- 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 21 
 
 deed I seem to know it. May our dear Lord com- 
 fort and sustain thee with a feeling that His chasten- 
 ing is to heal! Dear E., let us try to trust all to 
 Him, and in pain and trial think of our many bless- 
 ings, and in comparing our lot with that of others 
 look down instead of up. How many suffer bodily 
 pain as we do, without the compensations and alle- 
 viations which we have! 
 
 I thought somewhat of attending the Yearly 
 Meeting, but unless I am better I shall not. If I go, 
 I shall leave to-morrow or next day. 
 
 Excuse the brevity of this note. I will do better 
 when I can. 
 
 Ever affectionately, 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
 13 
 
 Fillmore House, Newport 
 12th, 6th mo., 1859 
 
 My dear Elizabeth, 
 
 Here I am at Y.M. I started yesterday morning 
 
 with my sister Mary, who wanted to take her girl 
 
 with her from the Island to Providence School. We 
 
 got here last night at a quarter past six. The house 
 
 is full of Friends, and a very social, pleasant time 
 
 they seem to make of it. A jollier set than these 
 
22 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 sober-dressed Quakers I never saw. The old Prov- 
 idence scholars have a festival here to-morrow, and 
 those who have been separated for twenty years or 
 more now meet for the first time. Some Philadel- 
 phia people are here — M. Cole and wife, Jane 
 Pettitt, John Horton and wife, E. Nicholson, and 
 others. 
 
 I was not mistaken, then. Thee was sick. Indeed, 
 I felt that it was so. Sick and sad, and I could not 
 take thy hand; nor to speak a kind word to cheer 
 thee, or, that failing, to sorrow with thee! How I 
 wish that my prayers were availing ones! I can un- 
 derstand thy feeling for I have known sorrow and 
 trial, and loss, and I have a temperament very much 
 like thy own, keenly sensitive and alive in every 
 move. How I wish thou couldst be here to-day — 
 this sweetest of early Summer Sabbaths — beauti- 
 ful as that immortal in the verse of Herbert — " The 
 bridal of the earth and sky " ! My friend D. A. Was- 
 son is here. Does thee remember some beautiful 
 lines of his entitled "All's Well" in the Atlantic 
 Monthly? 
 
 By the by, dear E., thee and Elizabeth Nicholson 
 must get over that difficulty somehow. Thee can 
 afford to forget and forgive all, and thee will be hap- 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 23 
 
 pier to do so, and make all allowance for her tem- 
 perament, habits of thought, and speech, etc. Do 
 think of it. No matter how wrong she may have 
 been, there is a greater opportunity for Christian 
 magnanimity on thy part. E. Nicholson never has 
 said anything to me about your separation except 
 that you were no longer as you had been. I must 
 have written this in the midst of noise and talking 
 all about me. When I can get a quiet hour, I will 
 write again, and I hope, better. 
 
 My health is better than when I wrote last, but 
 I am still suffering a good deal of pain in my side, 
 and had a sleepless night last night. Courage, dear 
 Elizabeth. All will be well, for all is in God's good 
 hands. If thee writes within a few days, direct to 
 me at the "Marlboro Hotel," Boston. 
 Affectionately, 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
 Don't try to write long letters if it pains thee. 
 
 14 
 Amesbury, 24th, 6th. mo. 1859 
 My dear Elizabeth, 
 
 Will thee excuse my long silence? I would have 
 been glad to have written from Newport again : but 
 
24 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 really I had no opportunity. I left the Island on 
 fifth day afternoon, with Gertrude and Joseph 
 Cartland and Sarah Whittier, and went to the 
 School, where I remained until yesterday morning. 
 Of course I did not get thy letter until yesterday 
 afternoon I found it awaiting me at the " Marlboro " 
 and was truly glad to hear again from thee. 
 
 What does thee mean by talking as thee does 
 about Friends? Does thee really think there are no 
 good and worthy and interesting and refined people 
 in the Quaker fold? Thee has surely too much good 
 sense and conscience, and too dehcate a sense of 
 justice to be swayed by prejudice. Why, dear E., 
 thou art a Quaker, and those who love thee best 
 have learned to love thee as such. Thee owes too 
 much to thy Quaker training and culture, to dis- 
 own and deny us at this late day. I, as thee knows, 
 am no sectarian, but I am a Quaker, nevertheless, 
 and I regard the philosophy underlying Quakerism 
 as the truest and purest the world has ever known. 
 I care little for some of our peculiarities: but I love 
 the principles of our Society, and I know that it, 
 with all its faults and follies, is, at the moment, in 
 the very van of Christendom : that among its mem- 
 bers, at this very hour, are the best specimens of 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 25 
 
 Christians to be found in the wide world. My rea- 
 son, my conscience, my taste, my love of the beauti- 
 ful and the harmonious, combine to make me love 
 the society. I cannot understand thy feeling: I am 
 only very sorry for it. I am well aware how the con- 
 duct of certain individuals, and the general condi- 
 tion of things in Philadelphia, might affect thee, but 
 thy noble and generous nature could not include all 
 in thy condemnation. Oh, dear E., let us cultivate 
 charity, let us forget and forgive. Think how the 
 dear God bears with us — how his infinite pity 
 follows us, rebuking our ingratitude with blessings ! 
 I saw many pleasant people, Friends and other- 
 wise, at Newport and Providence. My friend D. A. 
 Wasson was at the hotel where I stayed at Newport. 
 We visited Mrs. Ames (wife of the painter), and saw 
 her nobly modeled heads. That of Voltaire was 
 wonderfully expressive of the character of the man. 
 At Providence I had a visit with Gertrude and 
 Sarah Tobey at Dr. Wayland's. I do not know 
 when I ever met with so cordial a reception. I met 
 also, Rowland G. Hazard, the intimate friend of 
 Dr. Channing, and a man of great intellectual power, 
 Charles S. Brooks, the best English translator of 
 Goethe's Faust, and others. 
 
26 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 The meeting of the old scholars and teachers of 
 the Providence School held during the Y.M. week, 
 was a very spirited and creditable affair. The Bos- 
 ton Daily Advertiser, the organ of New England 
 respectability, says that the speeches would have 
 done credit to any college in the country. I was 
 very sorry that [an indecipherable name] was not 
 with us. 
 
 Gertrude speaks of thee with much love and ad- 
 miration. Joseph, thee knows, was always one of 
 thy admirers. I have read Rush Plumley's "Com- 
 pensation." It is really a beautiful poem — oriental 
 as a palm tree. There are some exquisite lines in it. 
 
 I note what thee commands about my health. I 
 should find it difficult to obey thee right off, how- 
 ever, for Dr. Bowditch is just now floating in the 
 shadow of the Nubian temples on the waters of the 
 Nile. He will be back again in a few weeks. I will 
 try to take care of myself as well as I can. 
 
 I hope thee is better thyself and that sunshine is 
 compensating for thy "cloudy days." Ah me! how 
 poor and weak we seem when we cannot make those 
 happy whom we love! 
 
 I shall write to Hannah Sturge. How I thank our 
 Heavenly Father for the privilege of knowing and 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 27 
 
 loving and being beloved by such a man as her dear 
 husband ! 
 
 Whatever may be thy own recollection of New- 
 port, I find, dear E., that thou wast kindly remem- 
 bered. I am sure if thou hadst been with us at the 
 Fillmore House, thou wouldst not have found it dif- 
 ficult to be pleased. 
 
 I am sorry the picture was n't better, but the sun 
 is no flatterer, and I rather think it is truer to the 
 original at this time than the one thee alludes to in 
 the large book. 
 
 Ever affectionately thy friend, 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
 15 
 Amesbury, 29th, 6th. mo. 1859 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 Thy letter and the sunshine, after a week of rain 
 and mist, came together. I am thankful for both. I 
 greatly enjoyed thy description of thy morning ex- 
 cursion, and the evidence it afforded of renewed 
 health and spirits. I constantly find myseff wishing 
 for thee in my outgoings, and incomings: I want 
 thee to see what I see and hear what I hear. Out- 
 ward nature seems more beautiful to me than ever, 
 and the frail tenure by which I hold it is very ap- 
 
28 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 parent to me. I have been sad over the sudden 
 death of my old friend and associate Dr. Bailey. I 
 have just written a letter of sympathy to Margaret 
 Bailey. Her loss is a very great one, for he was one 
 of the kindest and truest of men. 
 
 I wish, dear E., it was in my power to visit El- 
 mira. But home duties of an imperative kind now 
 detain me, and I fear my health is not at this time 
 equal to the fatigue of the journey. But the thought 
 is often with me, and, if possible, I may see thee be- 
 fore the summer is over. Shall thee not return to 
 Philadelphia in the Fall? 
 
 I am almost sorry I said anything to thee about 
 E. N., for I fear it gave thee pain. It is a feeling — 
 weakness perhaps — of mine that I must be on good 
 terms personally with everybody, good or bad, 
 pleasant or indifferent, and I want those I love to 
 have the good will of every one too. It comes of my 
 intense longing for harmony, and a strong need of 
 approbation, which extends to my friends, who are 
 a part of myself. 
 
 We have all been " hydropathists " here for the 
 last two weeks. "The rain, it raineth every day." 
 To-day, however, it is fresh and bright as Eden be- 
 fore Adam's unlucky bite of the apple. I enjoy it, 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 29 
 
 but somehow miss some one and somebody to enjoy it 
 with me. To-morrow we go over the river to a picnic 
 at the "Laurels " — one of the most charming river 
 views in the world — with a select company from 
 Salem, Lynn, and Newburyport. How happy and 
 proud I should be to have thee with us! 
 
 My poor old friend Joshua Coffin, "my old 
 schoolmaster," who has been ill in mind and body 
 for some time, is spending the day with me. He 
 fears he is not one of the elect. I tell him God will 
 do the best thing possible for him and everybody 
 else, that he never deserts us, and that his love is al- 
 ways about us. But there is no "ministering to the 
 mind diseased." 
 
 I enclose the two items which I cut from the daily 
 papers, both presenting me in a rather novel light 
 to the public. The coupling my name with Robert 
 and Sarah is droll enough. 
 
 Joshua is impatient and I must talk with him. 
 Do let me know how thou art in health, and what 
 the water is doing for thee. The dear God love and 
 keep thee! 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 J.G. W. 
 
30 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 16 
 
 Amesbury, 31st, 6 mo 
 Dear E., 
 
 From the golden threshold of this glorious day I 
 cannot fail in greeting thee. How is it with thee? I 
 hope for the best. 
 
 We found on Third day a large gathering at the 
 Laurels, on the riverside. The company were from 
 Boston, New Bedford, Salem, Lynn, and Newbury- 
 port — a little too fashionable and conventional for 
 that comfortable lapse into savage freedom that a 
 picnic implies, but there were many of the true kind. 
 The day was intensely hot, but river, trees, and 
 flowers were never more inviting. We spent the 
 early evening with our dear friends Margaret and 
 Mary Curson, on the Artichoke, watching the sun 
 go down through the great oaks, transforming the 
 water into a river of light. How I wished for thee ! 
 I would fain have all I enjoy with thee. 
 
 I have only time to try to say good morning! The 
 blessing of our Father's love be with thee ! 
 Ever and truly thine. 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 31 
 
 Marlborough Hotel, Boston 
 9th, 7th. mo, 1859 
 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 Soon after getting thy long letter — too long, for 
 thy eyes are of more consequence than our notions 
 upon the matters treated therein — I had to come 
 to this wicked little city, leaving a line to thee un- 
 finished at home. 
 
 I see we cannot think alike about Friends. I am 
 sorry, but it cannot be helped. Heart and soul, I am 
 a Quaker and, as respects forms, rituals, priests, and 
 churches, an iconoclast, unsparing as Milton or 
 John Knox. But I am not going to discuss the end- 
 less subject. I shall not make a red republican of 
 thee, nor will thee convert me to a belief in Bishops, 
 reverend fathers, and apostolic succession. I don't 
 see any saving virtue in candles, surplices, altars, 
 and prayer books. At the same time I am but an in- 
 differently good Quaker — I take my own way, and 
 Friends theirs. I don't well see how I could be any 
 more free. 
 
 We have just got through with an Atlantic dinner 
 at the Revere House. Let me give thee the names of 
 our company : Dr. Holmes sits one side of me, Prof. 
 
32 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 Stowe on the other; next to him, Wyman, one of 
 the editors; next, Edwin P. Whipple, the essayist; 
 next, Underwood, another editor; then comes Mrs. 
 Stowe; by her side is Lowell; opposite her is Long- 
 fellow; next him is Stillman, the artist and poet; 
 then comes Wentworth Higginson; and opposite me 
 sits Miss Prescott, etc., etc. Holmes has been in 
 the Autocrat vein. Mrs. Stowe has come out won- 
 derfully. We have discussed literature, manners, 
 races, and national characteristics — not omitting 
 theology, for we are Yankees. It was a pleasant 
 gathering, lasting from 3 to 6. When I left, Long- 
 fellow, Holmes, Quincy, Lowell, and Whipple were 
 Hngering over their claret and cigars. Emerson 
 wrote us that he had sprained his ankle on Wachuset 
 mountain, and was on two sticks like the hero of Le 
 Sage's novel. For myself, I don't much like those 
 dinners. At such times when I break through my 
 natural reserve I am liable to say more than I mean 
 — to be extravagant and overstrong in my asser- 
 tions. I dare say that I have said a good deal to-day 
 that I ought to be sorry for, but luckily my con- 
 science does not bring any specific charge against 
 me. 
 
 I wish I could write more, but I am so weary. I 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 33 
 
 will write when I get home, I hope more to the pur- 
 pose. 
 
 That beautiful evening thee speaks of was lovely 
 here also. We both enjoyed it, unconscious that the 
 other shared it. 
 
 God bless, comfort, and direct thee dear E. Has 
 Dr. Neidhunt written thee? I suppose he knows 
 how thee gets along with the water treatment. 
 Ever affec, 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
 17 
 Amesbury, 14th, 7th. mo, 1859 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 I have been wishing to write ever since my return 
 from Boston, but have been troubled so much with 
 pain in my head and eyes that I have not ventured 
 to do so. Even now, I must only say a word. I have 
 been so troubled and perplexed with my brother's 
 affairs, and some other matters of late that if I was 
 writing to anybody but thyself, I am afraid I should 
 have been inclined to pick a quarrel by way of re- 
 lief. We are having delightful weather here, and I 
 hope it extends to Elmira, and that thy health and 
 spirits are improving under its influence. 
 
34 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 My dear sister Elizabeth is quite feeble this sum- 
 mer in bodily health, and still suffers under the deep 
 depression which I mentioned to thee. I feel very 
 anxious about her. How hard it is to leave some 
 things to Providence! To trust our nearest and 
 dearest wholly and unreservedly to the love and 
 pity of our Father! 
 
 I was amused by thy description of Newport and 
 Y.M. I don't wonder at thy unfavorable impres- 
 sion. I am sure it would have been different this 
 year if thou hadst been there. 
 
 I saw Hannah Shipley's husband, Joel Bean, at 
 Y.M. He has a good deal of native delicacy and re- 
 finement. I got a line from Hannah on the eve of her 
 marriage. I could not but smile at thy remark about 
 the food of your Sanitarium among the hills. I am 
 far from indifferent to the good things of life, but 
 I could live, if necessary, on the black broth of 
 Sparta, or the oatmeal porritch of the Scotchman. I 
 did n't board with Joseph Healy, with Sarah Jona- 
 than for cook, so long for nothing. Henceforth I 
 defy the fates in the shape of cookery. With the 
 Scriptural injunction I "eat what is set before me, 
 asking no questions." 
 
 I had a droll matter to settle this morning. The 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 35 
 
 good people of Haverhill have bought and orna- 
 mented a large tract of land on the margin of a 
 beautiful pond known as Great Pond. They wanted 
 a name for it and could n't agree among themselves, 
 and finally voted to leave it to me. I have been 
 hunting over Indian vocabularies, and have heart- 
 ily learned to pity Adam, who had so many things 
 to find names for. 
 
 I shall set thee an example of brevity in this let- 
 ter. Enclosed is a notice of Dr. Bailey. "Seen and 
 Unseen" is not mine. 
 
 Take care of thyself, dear E. Let me hear from 
 
 thee, but don't write another long letter. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
 18 
 
 Amesbury, 30th, 7th mo, 1859 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 I hope the clearing weather for the last three 
 weeks has been enjoyed by thee. Here we have had 
 no rain except two showers for the whole time. The 
 last shower was very severe, and something of a 
 tornado passed near us. 
 
 Unhappily, neither E. nor myself have been well 
 enough for a week past to enjoy the season as we 
 
36 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 should otherwise have done. I have been unable to 
 read or write, and even now I must apologize for not 
 writing. 
 
 In what a sad condition Napoleon III has left 
 Italy! Her last estate is worse than her first. One 
 cannot but pity the poor exiles and refugees who 
 rallied from all parts of the world for the liberation 
 of their Fatherland; thousands of them are now 
 lying in hospitals, sick, wounded, and despairing. 
 But the good God sees all, and the lie of Priestcraft, 
 and Kingcraft cannot live forever. We have this 
 promise, that He will turn and overturn until He 
 whose right it is shall reign. 
 
 Excuse this hasty note. Do not try to answer it, 
 for it is not worth it. I shall write again when I am 
 fit for it. 
 
 I have just had a very kind and beautiful letter 
 from Josiah Foster. I believe thee knew him. 
 
 Aff., 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
 19 
 
 Amesbury, 3rd, 8th mo., 1859 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 Thy letter was most welcome, for I had really be- 
 gun to fear thee was seriously ill. 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 37 
 
 If there has been any change in the letters, I am 
 sure there is no change in the feehng which dictated 
 them, so far as thou art concerned. But I ought to 
 confess to thee that the old feeling of self-distrust, 
 and painful consciousness of all I would be, and of 
 all I am not, and of my inability to make those I 
 love happy, come back to me, the stronger, perhaps, 
 that for a time it was held in abeyance. I have 
 grown old in a round of duties and responsibilities 
 which still govern me and urge me: my notions of 
 life and daily habits are old-fashioned and homely : 
 I could not for any length of time endure the re- 
 straints of fashion and society: art, refinement, and 
 cultivated taste please me as something apart from 
 myself. Constantly baffled by illness and weakness, 
 and every way reminded of my frailty and limita- 
 tion, I can scarcely hope anything, but live in the 
 present: enduring what I must and enjoying what I 
 can, thankful, I trust, for the many blessings which 
 our Father has vouchsafed, and comforting myself 
 with the faith that my trials and crosses are bless- 
 ings also, in another form. But I cannot, dear E., 
 be blind to the fact that thee lives in a different 
 sphere — that thy sense of the fitting and beautiful 
 demand accessories and surroundings very different 
 
38 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 from those that have become familiar and habitual 
 to me. I am sure thy fine artist-nature would pine 
 and die under the hard and uncongenial influences 
 which make me what I am, and from which I can- 
 not escape without feeling that I have abandoned 
 the post of duty, without losing my self-respect, and 
 forfeiting all right to be loved in return by those I 
 love. These considerations, and the discouraging 
 influence of illness, may have affected the tone and 
 spirit of my letters. 
 
 But above all — and I know thou wilt pardon me 
 if I touch, with all tenderness, upon a subject which 
 should be sacred — I feel that thy instincts were 
 right as respects that very happy and beautiful epi- 
 sode in thy life — that sweet, calm sufficiency and 
 fullness of love graciously offered thee for a season, 
 which, brief as it was, had the length of years in its 
 completeness, and which still blesses thee with the 
 richest legacies of memory, and with hopes that 
 outreach time and take hold upon eternity. Know- 
 ing myself, I have never felt that I could ever have 
 been to thee what he was, whom the Great Good- 
 ness gave thee. And, if, in the great happiness of 
 meeting thee I seemed at any time to forget this, I 
 am sure thee understood me, and knew instinc- 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 39 
 
 lively that I would not designedly thrust myself be- 
 tween thee and the memory of such a hfe and such 
 love, nor intrude, otherwise than as a loving and 
 sympathizing friend, upon thy sanctities of sorrow. 
 It was no more than thy due to know how much thy 
 unconscious influence had been to me, and how 
 happy I was to meet thee again. I am sure, in the 
 end, it cannot harm thee or me, to know that years 
 and cares and sorrows have not estranged us, nor 
 blunted our mutual sympathies. What the world 
 suffers from is the want of love, not the excess of it. 
 There cannot be too much of kindness and affection 
 — of that large charity which will think no evil of 
 its object, but good and good only. 
 
 And now, dear E., thou wilt see that if I have 
 doubts or misgivings, they belong to myself, and not 
 to thee. There seems, at times, a wide space be- 
 tween us, which I feel I have no power or right even 
 to cross, and hence, perhaps, something of the kind 
 is manifest in my letters. For myself, I have ceased 
 to demand what is impossible, or to quarrel with 
 what is inevitable, for I know that the definite 
 Goodness must order all things well, for me, for 
 thee, for all : and there are times when I am, as it 
 
40 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 were, reconciled to all things — save my own sins 
 and follies. 
 ^ This is the last day of summer, and the season 
 goes out in beauty. The air is sweet and clear, and 
 the sky and earth flecked and picturesque with 
 clouds and sunshine. I would like to have thee see 
 how the sunset looks from our hills: glorifying the 
 valley, the river, and dying away in the misty At- 
 lantic. Didst thou see the Aurora Borealis on First 
 day evening? I think I never saw anything so 
 weird, mystic, and wonderful. I wish I could for 
 once annihilate distance, for I want to show thee a 
 marvellous picture — a very large daguerreotype 
 which the artist sent from Boston to EHzabeth to 
 see, and which he values at $1000. It is the most 
 exquisite thing I ever saw — face, attitude, and ex- 
 pression surpassing any dream of the old painters. 
 The beauty is doubtless a good deal accidental. / 
 Dear sister is not, I think, any better: she cannot 
 walk out much or ride without making her worse: 
 and she has many cares which wear upon her and 
 depress her. For her sake, how I wish that I were 
 strong and well, instead of the constant invalid that 
 I am ! It seems to me wrong to be sick, and I dare 
 say it is somehow, for it seems so necessary to be 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 41 
 
 well. I am better than when I wrote last, however. 
 
 I am very glad to hear of Hannah's coming back 
 for so long a visit: and hope I shall meet you all at 
 the old home on Union Street, where I used to joke 
 with her in the old times. 
 
 Forgive this long scrawl, and do not imitate it in 
 length for thy eyes' sake. I will try to write a more 
 cheerful one next time, but, glad or otherwise, 
 Affectionately, 
 • J. G. W. 
 
 20 
 Amesbury, 17th, 8th mo., [1859] 
 Dear E., 
 
 I believe I wrote thee last when I was too sick to 
 be a very agreeable correspondent. When one can 
 do nothing but complain he should beware of pen 
 and paper. I am still hardly fit for their use. 
 
 We have had clearing weather and a good deal of 
 company with it — Judge Alder and wife of Ver- 
 mont, Louise Loring, widow of my old friend Ellis 
 Grey Loring, and her daughter, and Wilham Lloyd 
 Garrison and wife among others. We were glad to 
 see them — especially Garrison, one of our old 
 friends who knew us when we were children at 
 
42 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 Haverhill, We talked over the old times together 
 — of what life had promised us, and what it had 
 given us, — compared our present views and condi- 
 tions, and looked forward reverently and trustfully 
 to the end, near at hand, and the great Hereafter. 
 G. does not believe as I do on some points, but his 
 faith, such as it is, seems strong and real. As he 
 grows older he grows gentler and more charitable, 
 and his old love of nature, so long held in abeyance 
 by his anti-slavery controversy, and mission of re- 
 form, comes back with renewed strength and keen- 
 ness. 
 
 I hope thy sister's visit has been cheering to thee, 
 and not without enjoyment and profit to her. 
 
 The country has lost a great man, and I a very 
 valued friend, in Horace Mann. How fast they pass 
 away! How strange it seems that I, the frailest of 
 them all, remain! 
 
 I hope to feel well enough soon to go a little jour- 
 ney in New Hampshire. I shall try to persuade Liz- 
 zie to accompany me, but without much hope of 
 success. I wish we could by a day's ride reach thy 
 place of sojourn. We are getting ready for our Hor- 
 ticultural and Agricultural Exhibition, next month. 
 We had the finest last year in this part of the state. 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 43 
 
 but this year our apples are few, our grapes less, 
 and our peaches none. Of pears we shall have a great 
 show, and I am nursing mine for the premium. My 
 Flemish Beauties have just begun "to blush on the 
 side that's next the sun." 
 
 My letter is dull and stupid as the head that con- 
 ceives it, and I can only ask thy indulgence and re- 
 main. 
 
 As ever, affectionately, 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
 Has thee seen Tennyson's new book? I have only 
 looked at it. Full of beautiful, sensuous pictures, 
 but not great and deep and earnest and loving like 
 In Memoriam. 
 
 21 
 Amesbury 22nd, 8th mo, 1859 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 I fear thy eyes are worse or that thou art ill, it 
 is so long since I heard from thee. 
 
 I have just returned from Lynn and Nahant, and 
 am in hopes I shall feel all the better for the change. 
 I saw Sarah Aldrich at my aunt's. She talked about 
 Hannah and, on the whole, gave a very good idea of 
 her Western home and mode of life. She said Han- 
 
44 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 nah gave her a cane for me, but she was not able to 
 take it with her. We hear that the Enghsh friends 
 Robert and Sarah Lindsay have reached San Fran- 
 cisco. It must be pleasant for Hannah to see them. 
 
 At Nahant, Fanny Longfellow showed me some 
 fine marine sketches by the marine painter Kensett, 
 which the artist has left with her husband. One or 
 two from Newport were very true and beautiful — 
 but not as good as one in thy parlor which I remem- 
 ber. 
 
 But the pictures out of doors around the rugged 
 coast of Nahant were, after all, more beautiful. A 
 storm far out in the ocean drove the waves high and 
 white upon the rocks, and far up the glimmering 
 beaches, and under the bright summer sun (for on 
 shore it was perfectly fair and clear). If I were a 
 painter I should despair of making a picture of such 
 a scene as I looked at from the outermost crag of 
 Nahant, where the waves rolled in with the mighty 
 force of the Atlantic. 
 
 Margaret Bailey is very anxious that I write regu- 
 larly for the Era. Indeed, she seems to depend upon 
 it. But I really cannot undertake it, as my health 
 is not equal to the exertion, and I am advised against 
 attempting it. I am sorry I cannot materially aid 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 45 
 
 her, but I have done a great deal more in times 
 past for the Era than my health and my interest 
 pecuniarily warranted. In fact, I have been unjust 
 to myself in the matter. 
 
 We are having the most perfect summer weather 
 — clear, cool, and dry. For the first time for four 
 years in this part of New England the ground is dry 
 enough to lie down upon with entire safety. My 
 good friend H. J. Newhall and daughters are at 
 Lynn and will visit Amesbury the last of this 
 week. 
 
 Has thee read the "Idyls" yet? I have just got 
 Kingsley's new volume, "Good News from God." 
 I see he takes the same view I do of the ultimate 
 triumph of good and the end of all evil. The cross 
 of Christ, he says, is as deep as hell and high as 
 heaven. 
 
 I do not wish to tax thy eyes, but shall be glad to 
 hear from thee if but a line, as I am afraid that sick- 
 ness prevents thee from writing. 
 
 Ever and affectionately, 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
46 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 22 
 
 Amesbury, Sixth day 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 I think of starting for a little trip in the country 
 for a few days, and write a hasty line. 
 
 My last letter was, I am sure, a very weak and 
 foolish one. But the truth is, I have been too ill to 
 write otherwise; and I so deeply feel my inability 
 and good-for-nothingness that I could not help 
 confessing the consciousness. 
 
 Hannah J. Newhall and daughters spent a part 
 of two days with us last week and have just left 
 Lynn for Philadelphia. Did I tell thee that Cousin 
 Sarah Whittier, of Providence, was to visit Phila- 
 delphia in the tenth month? What is thy prospect 
 of return to the city? and when does thee expect 
 Hannah's arrival? I enclose a little account of the 
 naming of my native park in Haverhill. I could not 
 be present, but sent an apology. Heaven bless and 
 keep thee, dear E., and think of me as thy affec- 
 tionate 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 47 
 
 23 
 
 Amesbury, 28th, 9th mo, 1859 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 This is the day of our annual festival of fruits and 
 flowers — a bright, glorious autumn day. Our hills 
 and woods never looked more lovely, and I always 
 wish, when I hear or see anything beautiful, that 
 thee could see and hear with me. I enjoy it, al- 
 though last night was the first for several days that 
 I have been able to sleep — owing to neuralgic 
 pains and nervous prostration. I am ''weak as a 
 yielding wave " bodily and mentally this morning, 
 but hope to be stronger soon, as the severe pain has 
 left me. I think of thee and how much thee must 
 suffer in this way. The mere ache is a trifle, if it 
 did not affect the nerves and temperament. If one 
 could only keep the mind serene and calm over 
 all! 
 
 Neither my sister or myself are able to go to the 
 exhibition to-day, but I had the pleasure of aiding 
 in the preliminary arrangements. I enclose a little 
 piece which was sung at the Festival. The piece is 
 not very brilliant, but it was luckily written before 
 I was so ill, or it would have been still poorer. 
 
48 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 I suppose thou wilt soon think of returning to 
 Philadelphia. I hope thy summer sojourn among 
 the hills has really benefited thee, and that thee 
 will carry back with thee to thy home the warm 
 light and the sweetness of the meadows and the wild 
 flowers for winter solace. 
 
 Thine of the 27th just received. It is as I feared 
 — thee has been sick. I am glad thee thinks of re- 
 turning at once to P. and that Hannah is looked for 
 so soon. Do give my love to her, and tell her I shall 
 hope to see her erelong, if my health permits. I 
 have not read "Adam Bede" yet or "Bitter-Sweet." 
 The truth is, my head and eyes have been unfit for 
 reading much for some time past, and, Lizzie being 
 in the same predicament, we cannot keep pace with 
 the literary novelties. How well I can understand 
 thy own deprivations now! I will get the book of 
 Dr. Holland; I know him and like him much as a 
 man. Emerson has been laid up with lameness this 
 summer, but is now, I believe, out again. Shall I 
 send him to thee when he comes to P.? 
 Ever and affectionately, 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 49 
 
 24 
 
 Amesbury, 6th, 11th mo,, 1859 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 I was something more than glad to get a Hne from 
 Sarah, and especially glad to hear so good an ac- 
 count of thy general health. I think the mountain 
 air should have at least as much credit as the water 
 and starvation — the "hunger cure," as I think 
 some German experimenters called it. 
 
 I surely sympathize with your grievous disap- 
 pointment in Hannah's non-arrival. Why did she 
 fail to come? I presume you got some explanation 
 by mail, and trust it is nothing serious, and that she 
 will soon be with you. For myself, I have been quite 
 ill, and am still troubled with pain in my side and 
 head, but am better, and hope to be able to get 
 about and do something. I have not been able to 
 write for weeks beyond a mere note or brief letter. 
 This sad affair of Harper's Ferry has pained and 
 troubled me exceedingly. It is time for all to pause 
 and enquire with what feelings and motives they 
 have acted in the great controversy between Free- 
 dom and Slavery. Who ever fans the flames on 
 either side from mere selfishness and for party ends 
 assumes a fearful responsibility. I made several 
 
50 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 attempts last week to write out my thoughts on the 
 subject, but was compelled to give over from sheer 
 inability to exert mind or body. It seemed to me 
 that nobody said precisely the right thing, and that 
 I could and must say it. I have just got Henry 
 Ward Beecher's discourse, and feel a great relief. 
 It is the right word from the right place. Do read it 
 if thou hast not. 
 
 After a long dull season, we are now on the verge 
 of winter, enjoying a faultless day of Indian sum- 
 mer, as warm and genial as May. How I wish I 
 could show thee how lovely our river valley looks in 
 the mellow light. The cold winds and rains have 
 scattered the frosted foliage mostly, but the oaks 
 still retain their many shaded brown leaves, and 
 here and there a rock maple still flowers through 
 the grey nakedness of the woods. It is still as a 
 dream — one of those days which seem specially 
 sent to assure us of the love of God. 
 
 The Atlantic Monthly has fallen into the hands 
 of Ticknor and Fields, the right men to pubHsh it. 
 Does thee never write nowadays? I wish thee would 
 let me have something for the Monthly. With such 
 gifts as thine, such powers of expression, how is it 
 possible for thee not to think and write? 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 51 
 
 Tell Sarah how much I am obhged to her for her 
 kind letter. If thy eyes permit thee I should be 
 glad to hear from thee, if but a line — but a word. 
 From here, in this north-eastern nook, my thoughts 
 are wandering towards Philadelphia, and memory 
 is ever recalling the pleasant picture of the past. 
 Affectionately thy friend, 
 
 John G. Whittier. 
 
 25 
 Amesbury, 14th, 12th mo., 1859 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 I send by to-day's mail Ruskin's Styrian story of 
 "The King of the Golden River." I read it with 
 something of the old boyish feeling of enjoyment, 
 but, like the woman George Fox tells us of who had 
 no stomach for her meat and ale unless she could 
 eat and drink with him, I could not help thinking 
 how much more I should have enjoyed it with thee, 
 and thy sisters. If you have not read it (and I hope 
 you have not) I am sure the story and the fine word- 
 painting of Ruskin and the quaint conceits of his 
 artist-friends illustrating it as a labor of love, will 
 please you. 
 
 I enclose with it a photograph from a crayon by 
 
52 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 Swain, suggested by a little poem of mine, "The 
 Barefoot Boy." It is very good. 
 
 And so Hannah is with you, come back to the old 
 home, in health and with richer specimens of Cali- 
 fornia products than the mines have ever furnished. 
 I heard of her through Bayard Taylor, who spent 
 last second day with us, who described her as very 
 bright and witty. How pleasant it must be to you 
 all! 
 
 We are having terrible weather here — a wild 
 snowstorm every other day and as cold as Green- 
 land between. My sister and I have both suffered 
 a great deal with the change from the autumn to 
 winter, but hope when the struggle is over between 
 the seasons, and steady cold weather sets in, we 
 shall be better and able to get out more. As we 
 cannot read or write much, these long dark days 
 are very tedious. 
 
 Thee does not say how thy eyes are since thy 
 return — better, I hope. 
 
 With kind remembrances for Hannah and Sarah, 
 and hoping to see you all in the early spring. 
 Affectionately, 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 53 
 
 26 
 
 Amesbury, 29th. 2nd mo, 1860 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 It is very long since I have heard from thee. I 
 have been confined at home all winter, too ill much 
 of the time to write, — so depressed, that I feared 
 giving thee more pain than pleasure if I had been 
 able, and unwilling to burden thee with my problem 
 when I knew thou hadst thy own to bear. A com- 
 pHcated nervous affection, combined with the old 
 trouble in my head and stomach, has rendered me 
 so much of an invalid that the slightest change of 
 weather, any extra physical or mental exertion, or 
 responsibility is sufficient to entirely prostrate me. 
 I am compelled to avoid, as far as possible, all 
 excitement and mental labor as the only condition 
 of preserving anything like quiet and self control, 
 and of obtaining relief from pain. It seems some- 
 times rather hard — this powerlessness, this pro- 
 tracted hopeless inability to do — not only on my 
 own account, but of others — but I earnestly try 
 to be patient and to make the best of my allot- 
 ment. 
 
 It must be that I needed the lesson — that I pre- 
 
54 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 sumed too much last year upon my temporary relief 
 from illness. I did wrong, I now see, in yielding to 
 my feelings so much — in giving pain when I most 
 desired to give happiness. If so, dear friend, forgive 
 me, and think kindly of me for I can never think 
 otherwise of thee. Let me, at least, have the privi- 
 lege of sympathy in thy efforts to live nearer to 
 our Divine Master, and to seek the consolation of 
 Him who has been touched with the feeling of our 
 infirmities. 
 
 I want to ask a favor of thee. My publishers wish 
 me to prepare my recent poems for publication. If 
 I feel able to prepare and review them, I want the 
 privilege of dedicating them to thee. If thee feels 
 any objection to it, of course I shall not urge it, but 
 I do very much wish to. I will send thee a copy of 
 what I would like to say. I know and appreciate 
 thy delicacy and unwillingness to invite any un- 
 necessary display, but somehow I have set my heart 
 upon it — still do not hesitate to let me know if thee 
 disapprove it. I shall, I dare say, admit that I am 
 wrong and thee right about it. 
 
 Poor EHzabeth has been and still is very much of 
 an invalid. Of course we are not likely to help each 
 other's spirits. I try very hard to be cheerful, and 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 55 
 
 sometimes, like Mark Tapley, in Dickens, I succeed 
 in being jolly "under creditable circumstances." 
 It must be a real comfort to thee to have Hannah at 
 home, with her ready resources and conversational 
 brilliance. She has lived a large, free life, in that 
 wonder-world on the Pacific, and I am sure she 
 must have much to tell of it. 
 
 I send thee the fourth annual report of the Indus- 
 trial School for Girls — one of our Yankee notions 
 that I am sure thee will feel interested in. It is a 
 noble effort in the right direction. 
 
 I am pained to hear of Anna Nicholson's death — 
 poor Elizabeth, her sister, must have felt it very 
 much. 
 
 With much love to all, as ever. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
 27 
 
 To thee, dear friend, who, when the popular frown 
 
 Darkens around a toiler, faint and worn, . 
 
 In fields which since have Freedom's harvest borne, 
 
 Where they who bind the sheaves of party, now. 
 
 Have scarce forgiven the rugged breaking plough 
 
 And early sowers whom they laughed to scorn, 
 
 Wert of the few in all the scoffing town 
 
 Who, as his vouchers, spake the words of cheer 
 
56 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 Which hnger longest on a grateful ear — 
 Count it not strange, if even now I bring 
 My tardy gift — no garlands of the Spring, 
 Woven of tender maple leaves and set 
 With wind-flower, apple-bloom, and violet, 
 But Summer's latest flowers and leaves full grown, 
 And seeded grass, and roses over blown. 
 Thou, who hast sung for Milton, blind and old, 
 A song of faith the bard himself might own. 
 Wilt pardon words of Freedom over bold: 
 And, not unmindful of the grave discourse 
 We sometimes dared with reverent lips to hold. 
 Take up the burden of my serious verse, 
 And lend thy ear to its low thoughtful tone. 
 
 Amesbury, 20th, 3rd mo. 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 Thy kind, noble, generous letter was most wel- 
 come. I feel that much of what thee says of my way 
 of living is right, and will try to profit by thy advice 
 and "prescriptions." But I have a very small capi- 
 tal of strength to begin with, and but a limited 
 amount of hope to supply the deficiency. My 
 present illness is only what I have suffered from 
 childhood but I am now less able to bear it. I shall 
 do all I can to regain — not health and vigor, for 
 that I cannot expect — but a condition of ability to 
 be worth something to my friends and the world. 
 I ride out when I am able, and the weather will 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 57 
 
 permit, and hope to profit by it as the season ad- 
 vances. 
 
 The day I got thy letter we were dreadfully 
 shocked by the death (by his own hand) of a neigh- 
 bor and dear friend, to whose kindness and love we 
 owed much. A genial, generous, warm-hearted man, 
 the derangement of his wife, and other troubles 
 broke him down and destroyed the balance of his 
 mind. Elizabeth and I had been very anxious about 
 him weeks before. He was greatly beloved: at his 
 funeral the great congregation " lifted up their 
 voices and wept." We have not got over the shock : 
 it overpowered me for the time. I believe I sent 
 thee a paper with a notice of him. 
 
 Thee sees what I have written — I have with- 
 held much that I would have liked to have said. 
 The book will be divided into two distinct parts — 
 one of local ballads, & the other of my poems and 
 lyrics, which I regard as my best. It is these latter 
 which I wish to associate with thee. Is there any- 
 thing objectionable in the lines? Would thee object 
 to the use of thy name, or the initial of it? I should 
 prefer the name as an open, manly expression of 
 grateful interest. But, of course, I defer to thy bet- 
 ter judgement; and if thee has any scruple as to the 
 
58 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 whole thing, — if it seems to thee not agreeable in 
 any way, — do not hesitate to say so, I rely on thy 
 frankness. I enclose a little poem which I am sure 
 thee will like. After reading it, be good enough to 
 send it to Samuel Rhodes for the Friends' Review. 
 I notice the death of Edward Yarnall. Was he the 
 husband of thy friend Caroline? It must have been 
 a sad bereavement. Will thee remember me to her? 
 
 I suppose Spring has reached your favored city. 
 Here there are no signs of her, but her heralds the 
 bluebirds are singing of her coming. The snow has 
 recently gone, and we have had some warm bright 
 days. 
 
 I must send thee a poem of mine in the Independ- 
 ent: it may remind thee of some of our conversa- 
 tions. 
 
 This is a dull letter: I am ashamed of what may 
 seem like complaining, for God has been good to me, 
 the world has been kind beyond my deserts: better 
 men than I have borne pain and weakness cheerfully 
 and bravely, and I will try to imitate them, holding 
 fast my faith in the Divine goodness, and rejoicing 
 in the love and friendship which blesses me, and the 
 opportunities still afforded me to do good. 
 
 I have obeyed thee as to thy letters — reluc- 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 59 
 
 tantly, but with a feeling that thee had a right to 
 their disposal. Perhaps — in the uncertainties of 
 life — it was best. With much love to thy family, 
 Ever and affectionately, 
 J. G. W. 
 I do not hear how thy health is, or whether thee 
 suffers so much with thy eyes. Do speak of thyself. 
 
 28 
 Amesbury, 9th, 8th. mo., 1860 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 Thy first day occupation in writing me was par- 
 donable in view of the most rigid orthodoxy, for, if 
 not a work of necessity, it was of mercy. It was 
 pleasant to get an idea of thy mountain home and 
 way of life — to follow thee up the side of Wachu- 
 set, and look with thee upon the heart of the old 
 Commonwealth, throbbing with sunamer heat below. 
 
 I have been looking for Hannah for the last three 
 weeks, every few days hearing that she was about to 
 come. I am almost afraid that I shall somehow miss 
 her, as I shall have to leave home, if I am well 
 enough this week for some days. 
 
 I like Thomas Chase and his wife very much. We 
 had a flying visit from them. Thomas has a great 
 
60 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 deal of real refinement, and is, I think, far superior 
 to any young man in our society in respect to talents 
 and culture. 
 
 They had a nice little dinner to Hawthorne in 
 Boston the other day to welcome him home after 
 his long absence. Emerson, Lowell, Whipple, 
 Fields, Longfellow, etc. were present. I was not 
 able to be with them, much to my regret. Does 
 Lucy Chase spend much time at Wachuset this 
 summer? She told me you had such pleasant times 
 together in the early Spring. 
 
 I have been hoping that Elizabeth would be well 
 enough to leave Amesbury and spend some weeks 
 with her friends Mrs. Pitman and Mrs. Sewall in 
 Reading and Melrose; but she is very feeble this 
 summer, and a ride in a chaise of three or four miles 
 greatly fatigues her. We have two of my brother's 
 children with us, and a good deal of company, 
 strangers mostly, whose "continual coming" pre- 
 vents us from having the pleasure of our friends' 
 visits. "If," as the old song says, "they would only 
 let a body be." One hates to be stared at, and put 
 on exhibition. I hope to be able to get away, and 
 would like to look in upon you at some time and sit 
 under the shadow of Wachuset. 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 61 
 
 I have been trying to write some political essays, 
 but my head and eyes have failed me, and I am now 
 obliged to forego all reading and writing as far as 
 possible. I can do little more than sit in the shad- 
 ows, and enjoy all I can of the abounding beauty of 
 the season. 
 
 In my next I dare say I shall be able to give thee 
 some account of Hannah. She is now daily ex- 
 pected. 
 
 Excuse the brevity of this letter. The thermome- 
 ter is at 90, and I am sure if it is as hot at Wachuset 
 thee will have no more strength to read than I have 
 to write. So goodbye for the present, affectionately, 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
 29 
 Amesbury, 19th, 9th mo., 1860 
 Dear Elizabeth, 
 
 I have delayed writing a long time in the hope like 
 the Irish letter writer to carry my letter myself. 
 
 In the first place I was a delegate to the Worcester 
 State Rep. Convention, and I started to go to it but 
 was so ill at Lynn that I had to return. Afterwards 
 I returned to Lynn, expecting Hannah would ac- 
 company me, but could not arrange matters as re- 
 
62 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 spected her children, and dared not risk them with 
 the "Mumps" at Princeton. I thought of going on 
 nevertheless with W. Spooner, but a recurrence of 
 illness compelled me to give up the trip. Last week 
 I thought of visiting thee and taking Emerson on 
 with me, but I have been affected with a cold which 
 has settled on my lungs, and I am as hoarse as any 
 raven that ever croaked. 
 
 I was not sure till I got thy letter that thee was 
 still at P. I am glad thee liked my "Ballads," and 
 especially my favorite one "My Playmate." Thine 
 is indeed "The sweet approval that is more than 
 fame." Also "The Witch's Daughter" is a tale of 
 our own neighborhood. Hannah will tell thee that I 
 showed her the place where the Witch's house stood, 
 on the margin of the river. 
 
 We were so glad to see Hannah. I did my best to 
 make her visit to Amesbury pleasant, but my own 
 and sister's illness prevented me from enjoying it so 
 thoroughly as I should otherwise have done. But it 
 was a very pleasant episode in our life to meet her 
 and talk the old and the new times over, and to 
 show her our streams and hills. If thee comes to 
 Salem I shall see thee. When does thee expect to 
 leave Princeton? I had a pleasant "forgathering" 
 
LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 63 
 
 a few days ago with Charlotte Cushman and Miss 
 Stebbins, the artist. Charlotte is a great woman, 
 with a large heart, and a reformer of the better 
 stamp. I wish I could show thee a photograph Miss 
 Stebbins gave me of the "Miner." The statue is a 
 happy mingling of the classic ideal and the homely 
 Yankee reality — Mercury, in cotton shirt and 
 trousers, bearing his pick in place of the Caduceus. 
 
 My poem in the forthcoming Atlantic is, I fear, a 
 little complaining, in its tone. I could not well help 
 it at the time. It is not, however, markedly so. 
 Thee will recognize it in ''The Summons." 
 
 Thee ought to stay to see October throw her 
 crown upon the Wachuset woods. Let me hear from 
 thee, and believe me, 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
 30 
 
 Amesbury, 1st. mo., 13th, 1864 
 My DEAR Friend, 
 
 I was doubly glad yesterday to see thy initials on 
 the envelope of the pamphlet sent me, and to find 
 such a noble and honest utterance on the Slavery 
 question in the very highest place of the most con- 
 servative Church in the land. I felt, I hope, truly 
 
64 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 grateful to God, for such a marvellous change. I 
 have, as thee knows, spoken with severity of the 
 position of the Episcopal Church, but if that church 
 will only come up to the standard of the sermon be- 
 fore me, my praise will far outweigh my censure. If 
 thee knows the author of the sermon, pray thank 
 him from me for his most eloquent and manly 
 words. 
 
 I had a letter from Hannah a few weeks ago. She 
 seems in better spirits than when she wrote last. 
 She enjoys the society of San Francisco — her 
 mountain hermitage was too solitary. 
 
 I wanted to be at the Philadelphia A.S. meeting 
 last month — the 30th anniversary of the Ameri- 
 can Anti-Slavery Society — but was not able to go. 
 My health is not as good as when I last saw thee, 
 and in addition to the pain in the head, I have a 
 lung difficulty which has troubled me for some time. 
 My poor sister is very ill, suffering great pain — a 
 spinal trouble which confines her. 
 
 With much love to thy mother and sister Sarah, 
 and with the warmest wishes for a happy New Year 
 to thyself, 
 
 I am cordially and gratefully thy friend, 
 
 John G. Whittier. 
 
MONADNOCK 
 
 Seen from Wachuset at Sunset 
 I would I were a painter for the sake 
 Of a sweet picture, and of her who led, 
 Fittest of guides, with light but reverent tread, 
 Into that mountain mystery. First a lake, 
 Tinted with sunset: next the wavy lines 
 Of far receding hills, and, yet more far, 
 Monadnock lifting from his belted pines 
 His rosy forehead to the evening star. 
 Above us purple-zoned Wachuset laid 
 His head against the west, whose warm light made 
 His aureole. And o'er him sharp and clear, 
 Like a shaft of lightning in mid-launch delayed, 
 A narrow colored line, barbed and shone upon 
 By the fierce lustre of the sunken sun. 
 Menaced the darkness with its golden spear! 
 
LETTERS TO MRS. NEALL, 
 E. L.'S SISTER 
 
 1 
 
 Amesbury, 8th, 11th mo., 1860 
 My dear Friend 
 
 I told E. that we must write thee to-day, but she 
 is not able to do her part, so I will just say a word to 
 thee merely as a prelude to a letter erelong. We 
 were heartily glad to get thy kind letter and have 
 read it over several times — a proof of our estimate 
 of it and thee. The truth is, thy visit to A. was the 
 pleasantest episode of our last year's life; and I am 
 sure it did Elizabeth good. I was so sorry to be so 
 miserably ill when I parted from thee at Lynn. I 
 should have been more than glad to have introduced 
 thee to Longfellow. By-the-bye, Charles Sumner 
 was pleased with thy call on him and evidently en- 
 joyed it, as did also Dr. Holmes. Longfellow I have 
 not seen, but I am sure he thought it all right. 
 
 I have been unable to visit Boston for some 
 weeks, but am now better somewhat, and hope to 
 go soon. I spent a pleasant day with Emerson this 
 Fall, in company with Charlotte Cushman, who, 
 
LETTERS TO MRS. NEALL, E. L.'s SISTER 67 
 
 apart from her actress vocation, is one of the noblest 
 of women, a warm aboHtionist, and friend of all 
 good causes. 
 
 I suppose Elizabeth has not yet returned from 
 Baltimore. I was greatly disappointed in not being 
 able to visit her at her mountain eyrie, at Wachuset. 
 E., I fear, was not made for a Quaker, and I cannot 
 find it in my heart to blame her for living out her 
 nature with its love of all beauty and harmony: and 
 I hope and believe she has self-poise enough to sus- 
 tain her in her newly found freedom. She has a 
 deeply religious nature, but it seeks expression in 
 other forms and symbols than those of her early 
 faith ; and circumstances have made her a little un- 
 charitable towards the "plain Friends." Time will 
 correct all that. As she sees more of her new asso- 
 ciates, she will discover that human nature is very 
 much the same, in the Episcopal canonicals, as in 
 Monthly Meeting uniform. 
 
 I am glad thee did not go away this fall, it must 
 be so pleasant for thy mother and sisters to have 
 thee with them. I wish I could say that sister and 
 I could visit Philadelphia this winter, but I dare 
 not look forward to it as a probability. 
 
 Well, the election is over — Lincoln is elected ! 
 
68 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 The slave power rebuked for once. I do not feel like 
 exulted: I am not yet sure that we have gained as 
 much as we hoped. But I do feel grateful to our 
 Heavenly Father that he has permitted me to see 
 this day. I enclose one of our ballots, by which thee 
 will see that I am one of the Electors chosen for our 
 State. 
 
 My eyes and head forbid my writing much more. 
 Elizabeth will be glad to write thee when she is able. 
 Give our love to thy dear mother and to Sarah and 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 "God bless you!" Our prayer is. 
 God keep you, whose care is 
 
 So tender and true: 
 Old friends! — We forget not, 
 Old friends! — We have met not 
 
 Friends dearer than you! 
 
 Ever and affectionately, 
 
 John G. Whittier. 
 
 2 
 
 Newburyport, Mass., 1/21, 1891 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 I was glad to receive thy kind letter and grateful 
 for it. Very few of those I knew when I was in Phil- 
 adelphia in 1838 are now living, and as friend after 
 
LETTERS TO MRS. NEALL, E. L.'s SISTER 69 
 
 friend passes into the solemn mystery I feel like 
 drawing closer to those who remain. I never forgot 
 thy visit to Amesbury when my dear sister was liv- 
 ing: and every letter of thine has been very wel- 
 come. I wish it had been our lot to live nearer each 
 other. There have been many times when I have 
 longed to see and talk with thee upon matters in 
 which I felt sure we had a common interest. 
 
 I have been rather more feeling the years of late, 
 and have had Mrs. Thrale's ''three warnings." My 
 hearing is very imperfect, and my sight is rapidly 
 failing. I can read but little and my pen writes 
 without much help from my eyes. The cold weather 
 confines me indoors almost entirely. I am stopping 
 now with my dear relations Joseph and Gertrude 
 Cartland, for a few weeks. Oak Knoll is now 
 blocked with snow and ice, and the sidewalks are 
 better cared for here than at Amesbury. I still keep 
 my room at Amesbury. Judge Gate and his wife 
 keep house there, and I like to go back to the home 
 of my mother and sister. I spent a month last 
 summer at Eliot, Maine, on the Piscataqua River, 
 which was my only outing. I have had rather too 
 many visitors everjrwhere and I have not strength 
 to bear the strain. At my birthday I had hundreds 
 
70 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 of letters and telegrams, most of which I have been 
 quite unable to answer, I need rest most of all. I 
 am thankful for the good will of others, but I prefer 
 to wait quietly for the final call, which is near, and 
 which I await with a sense of my frailties and errors 
 but with a steadfast trust in the abounding mercy 
 of God. 
 
 I sent thee a few days ago, a little book contain- 
 ing some poems written during the past two years, 
 privately printed for my friends alone. 
 
 Dear Friend of many years, my heart goes out to 
 thee with earnest wishes for thy welfare and happi- 
 ness. The Lord bless and comfort thee ! 
 
 Affectionately, thy aged friend, 
 John G. Whittier. 
 
MILTON'S PRAYER OF PATIENCE 
 
 By ELIZABETH LLOYD 
 
 I am old and blind! 
 
 Men point at me as smitten by God's frown, 
 
 Afflicted and deserted of my mind: 
 
 Yet I am not cast down. 
 
 I am weak yet strong! 
 
 I murmur not that I no longer see: 
 
 Poor, old and helpless, I the more belong 
 
 Father Supreme, to thee. 
 
 merciful one! 
 
 When men are farthest, then art thou most near: 
 When friends pass by, my weakness shun, 
 Thy chariot I hear. 
 
 Thy glorious face 
 
 Is beaming towards me, and its holy light 
 Shines in upon my Lonely dwelling place, 
 And there is no more night. 
 
 On my bended knee 
 
 1 recognize thy purpose clearly shown 
 
 My vision thou hast dimmed that I may see 
 Thyself — thyself alone. 
 
 I have naught to fear. 
 This darkness is the shadow of thy wing 
 Beneath which I am almost sacred — here 
 Can come no evil thing. 
 
72 whittier's unknown romance 
 
 Oh! I seem to stand, 
 
 Trembling, where foot of mortal ne'er hath been 
 Wrapped in the radiance of thy sinless hand 
 Which eye hath never seen. 
 
 Visions come and go. 
 
 Shapes of resplendent beauty round me throng, 
 
 From angel lips, I seem to hear the flow 
 
 Of soft and holy song. 
 
 It is nothing now. 
 
 When Heaven is opening to my sightless eyes. 
 When airs from Paradise refresh my brow. 
 The earth in darkness lies. 
 
 In a purer clime. 
 
 My being fills with rapture, waves of thought 
 Roll in upon my spirit — strains subUme 
 Break over me unsought. 
 
THIS EDITION IS LIMITED TO THREE HUNDRED 
 AND EIGHTY-FIVE COPIES PRINTED AT THE 
 RIVERSIDE PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A., OF 
 WHICH THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY ARE FOR 
 
 SALE. THIS IS NUMBER. . .^<fc?. . . . 
 
N^a^ 
 
 ^r:^