The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1884-01-31
THE QUAKER POET.
A Chat with John G. Whittier---SOme
ofHis Opinions and Remi- .
niGnancnG


niscences.
Half way up the main street. well re-
moved from this unpoetic hustle, l
came upon house that is worthy of
picture. 1t is white frame cottage of
that box-like architecture so common
to the country villages of this section.
The center is two stories high with one
story wings on either side. The marks
of age are apparent, though everything
is neat and tidy, in appearance it is
more like the house of thrifty me-
chanic than a man of letters whose
fame is world wide. Shade trees and
shrubbery fill the large yard, which
blooms in the summer with the check
cred green of foliage and the pink and
white of flowers; but in this ''season of
mist and mellow fruitfulness, all this
color is turned by the pinching hand of
frost, and the greenwood is covered
with yellow leaves, harbingers of the
season of which Whittier wrote:
And Autumn in his leafiess Bowers,
Is waiting for the Winters snow.
A graveled walk leads to the front
door of the house, and my pull at the
bell was answered by tidily-dressed
lady, with round, CHEEKY, good-na-
tured face. the poets niece, l believe.
She extended pleasant welcome and
led the way into a neat little parlor
opening from the hall. A moment
later there entered a tall man, six feet
or more high, | should say. He walked
briskly across the floor with an elastic
step. His dress was the plain unpre-
tentious garb of Quaker; the dark,
vest, the black, cutaway
coat, having just the faintest suspicion
of velvet on the collar and facings of
the small, ear-shaped lappels. His face
wears that peculiar expression denoting
quiet thought and gentle disposition.
Round and pleasant, it is framed with
gray whiskers, shaved only from the
lips which are pressed firmly together.
The countenance is rather serious in
composure,, but brightens with the in
terest of conversation. The dark eyes
are set we'll back beneath heavy brows
and the high forehead appears unusu-
ally long from the absence of hair on
the crown of the head. Although II
years old he has the step and bearing
of man of so. l had heard that he
was falling, and was pleased to find
how cheerful, entertaining and we'll
preserved he was.
This is John G. Whittier" l invol-
UNFAIRLY exclaimed, as he took my hand
and shook it warmly.
Eyes; and thee is from Philadelphia.
/ wonder if thee knows any of my
friends there? Hardly, l suppose, for
the people and the city have SO chang
ed. 1t has become a metropolitan place,
and its distinctive Quaker features are
scarcely perceptible any more, l sup
pose. Even the friends who are left
have changed. The quaint old build
ings, l believe are still there-simple
recalling the characters
tics of the people who at one time gave
the city its individuality.
Whittier's fondness for Longfellow
was everywhere apparent, and when it
was remarked upon he said:
''Yes, we were warm friends. He
was a delightful man and a great poet.
The last time he was here in my house,
he came in with Senator Sumner and
Mr.. Charles Lanman, of Washington.
All saw little of each other during the
last years of his life. My health did
not permit me to go about much. Not
long before he died he wrote for me to
COlllC anu SCc IT'LL. was IIOI stDlC "
90 at once; but as soon as | could |
went to him. | was too late, however,
for when reached his house he was
then unable to see any one, and soon
after passed away.
Hawthorne, Emerson, Longfellow
and myself were always friends. There
were no jealousies between us, and
we each took Il pride in the work and
success of the others. We would eX-
change notes upon our productions,
and if one saw kindly notice of the
other it was always cut out and sent
to him.
Hawthorne regarded as the great
est master of the English language.
He was the superior of Addison. [
never knew nor read of a man who
could build such beautiful stories in
words that the humblest could under
stand.
Emerson was not only great
writer, but philosopher Our rela-
tions were very close. He often visited
one another than did Longfelow and |.
Emerson has written some things that
will live forever. They are The Prob
lem,' Each and All, and perhaps
twenty other pieces that | could name.
He has a simple, easy way of writing
that gave his work great power. My
sister used to say that she liked him
better than any man who came here,
because he never talked over her head.
That was really his strength"
The conversation then drifted into
the methods of these great writers
while at work. Mr.. Whittier said:
Il was unlike any of the rest think,
for never had any methods, When 1
felt like it ! wrote; and | never had the
health nor patience to work over it af-
forwards. 1t usually went as it was
originally completed. Emerson wrote
with great care, and would not only
revise his manuscript carefully, but |
have heard him say that he would fire.
quently rewrite the article upon the
proof sheets. Longfellow, too, was &
very careful writer. He wrote and re-
wrote and would lay his work by and
then revise it. He often would consult
with his friends about his productions
before they were given to the world.
He, therefore, sent his work out as per-
feet as great care and brilliant intel
lect could make it. l have lived mostly
a secluded life with little patience to
draw upon, and only few friends for
associates. What writing | have done
has been for the love of it, ! have eyer
been timid of what | have penned. 1t
is really marvel to me that | have
gained any literary reputation from my
"-B0S!OR Herald.