The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1871-06-10
A Talk with Whittier.

A Talk with Whittier.
A writer in the Lakeside Monthly gives
the following account of an interview with
the Quaker Poet when you sec Whit
tier you see instantly it is the Whittier of
the pictures, only more thin and gray
The pictures give you larger head, yet
not so fine in the lines that mean most in
man of genius and no picture can give
you the eyes, smaller than those we see in
the portraits of Burns, but dark, intense,
and tender, and, when he speaks of what
touches him intensely, all aglow with tho
light of his SOU, such eyes indeed as you
only see now in a picture by one of tho
great old masters, whose genius used to
think, as wandered through the galleries,
was more wonderful in that than in any
thing else that has come to us from their
hand. There is a hint Of the Quaker, you
notice, i'll the cut of his dress, but not in
the color, which is black, not new, at all,
but so spotless as to make you wish no
would take all your new garments and put
them through q course of training for
few months, that they might get the habit
Of looking as pure and sweet rs that when
you came to wear them "a Quaker in his
speech, but using thee" and "thou"
with such shy sweet grace as to make
you wonder whether the finest manners
may not lurk, after ALL within the homely
old Saxon-terms; quick with his words,
contrary to all his traditions and training,
and with no hint of the sacred sing song
his sect has always held in such profound
esteem, especially in meet'n'.
When we had done with our greetings,
We struck first cannot tell how-on tho
fathomless subject of the nature and des-
tiny of the human soul. My friend, and
myself took the sunny side of the way;
Whittier the shadcwy. We tried to mako
out case that should centre first and last
in the divine love he stood fast by the
human responsibility. We marshalled our
picked forces for divine election of all
souls at last to the everlasting life he
matched us with the freedom of the will,
through which a man may elect himself to
the doom of the lost, and persist in that to
the end. We fired our last shot "I1e
shall go after the sheep which is lost until
he find it, and bring it on his shoulders
rejoicing" He feared that the habit of
wandering would carry the day again when
ever the hapless thing got its chance to
break away there would be no overcom-
ing of the freedom Of the will, to wander
off or to stay by the shepherd even in tho
green pastures and by the still waters Of
God. 1t was most pathetic and touching
little struggle of two to one. Still Whit
tier stood when we had done where he was
when he began, -unspeakably solemn and
tender, wishing, thought, he could see
what seemed so sure to u.s. but neither able
nor willing to disturb the solid and strong
convictions of a lifetime, and of such life.
Then he said cheerfully to me: 81 hear
thee is lecturing this winter on Burns. l
should like to hear thee. Burns is to mo
the noblest poet of our race. He was the
first poet read, and he will be the last
Our people did not care for poetry" he
said, "when l was a boy. We had in our
house an American Reader, quite popular
at that time, in which l found some pieces
of the old school of singers and, beside
that, we had poem called the Davidess
Il hope have struck the title written by
Friend and held in great esteem by our
body. But somehow these did not seem to
touch me ; they were not what wanted.
One day one of our preachers came to stay
all night, and noticing, as we sat by tho
fire, that l was intent on book, he said,
6. L will read to thee, if thee likes, some
poems by Robert Burns. l have copy
with me-" So he got the book and began
to read. 1t was the first l had heard of
Burns, and my wonder and delight over
what heard is as fresh still as if it were
yesterday. l had heard nothing up to that
moment, it seemed to me, that had any
right to be called poetry; and l listened as
long as the old man would read. l noticed
he left the book on the table SO l rose at
gray dawn next morning and read for
myself. was hanging over the book when
the Friend came down, and then he told
me he was going further, to visit such and
such meetings, would be back at such
time and if | liked would leave the book
with me. Thee may be sure | gratefully
accepted his offer. l read Burns every
moment had to spare and this was one
great result to me of my communion with
him found that the things out of which
poems came were not, as | had always
imagined, somewhere away off in a world
and life lying outside the edge of our New
Hampshire sky,-they were right there
about my feet and among the people l knew.
The common things of our common life |
found were full of poetry. 1t was new
and a perfect revelation" He told mo
also what such man only can say in good
faith, that he could not understand what
the critics mean when they say there arc
things in Burns not fit to read,-things
impure and vile, the spumc of fallen
spirit. {" never found such things" he
said, az read all Burns, every line of him,
and while there is difference, of course,
to me every line is good" know Whit
tier could not have thought, as he told me
this, that Paul said once, ITO the pure all
things are pure; y and how purely true his
commentary on Burns was to the great old
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