Dianne Elizabeth Dostie Cole, ed.: Diary of Elizabeth Hussey Whittier (1836—1838) (2008)

The front cover of this booklet, published by Powwow River Books of Amesbury for the Whittier Home Association, shows a pen drawing of Elizabeth Hussey Whittier by Catherine Wingate Cameron, with an example of her handwriting as the background. The Introduction is by Frances C. Dowd, a former President of the Whittier Home Association who also transcribed the diary with no silent corrections.

The Introduction tells me several things of which I wasn't aware, such as Elizabeth publishing a small volume of poetry, and having several poems published in different magazines; her spending a few months in Pennsylvania with brother 'Greenleaf' (who was working for the Pennsylvania Freeman), which was the only time that she spent away from Amesbury; and that Elizabeth and Whittier returned to Amesbury after his office was burned in an apparent reaction against the anti-slavery movement.

The diary gives very interesting insight into the thoughts of Whittier's sister, into the mind of the Quaker, and to some extent into Whittier's own world, although far too much here is unexplained, and the reader must guess certain things or (far more often) remain ignorant. Footnotes would have been very helpful, as there are many references to abbreviated names, so who are these people? Even if they're not known by the editor, or if their identity is uncertain, then a note to that effect, perhaps with a suggestion, would have helped. For instance, maybe not many readers would know today that Elizabeth's reference to 'Mrs. Hemans' on page 4 is to the popular poet Felicia Hemans, although most people would probably have heard of a boy standing on a burning deck, so a footnote would have been informative. As it is, Hemans is not even mentioned in the Index.

Oh yes, the Index. Strings of words have been keyed in, run through an alphabetical program, and the poem names (in quotes) have floated to the top of the list like cream, leaving a list in perfect alphabetical order. Only, the purpose of an Index is to find the page(s) a reference refers to, but this Index refuses to work that way, unless by sheer coincidence.

Let's take at random, for example, the single Index entries 'Amkanoonaks', 'Mirick, B. L., Mrs.', 'Racoon Mountain', and finally 'Sophronia M' or ''M., Sophronia' if we want to be pedantic and doublecheck. The page numbers given for these entries, respectively, are 16, 26, 16, and 8 (that last number referring to both Sophronia entries). But if we look up these numbers, no such reference is on any of those pages. But like magic, if we add six pages to each of these numbers, they appear on pages 22, 32, 22, and 14 repectively. The numbered pages in the book begin at the page marked '1' (the beginning of Elizabeth's diary, which ends at the page marked '34') and end at the page marked '40', which is the final page of the Index. Logically, there should, in an Index that subtracts six pages, be no number above 28. But to take one example, there are four references to 'Amesbury', one of which is to page 29, which is a self-reference to the appearance of the town in the Index itself. So you just add six? Well, not quite: 'Campbell' should be on page 36, in other words page 40, but it's not there: we don't live in a perfect world, but this error could have been easily checked before publication.

I don't intend my comments to be taken very seriously, and I realize that the wonderful work for the Whittier Home Association is voluntary and an excellent job has been done transcribing what doesn't look very easy-to-read handwriting, but all the same an editor normally says a few words about the actual editing of a work, although there's nothing here. I have a large number of questions about the people alluded to in Elizabeth's diary, but unfortunately I don't have any answers.

John 'Ben' Pickard: Whittier and His Elizabeths (2007)

The title of this booklet — being a paper Pickard read at the Newburyport Literary Festival in April 2007 — appears to have been inspired by Whittier's poem 'The Two Elizabeths', which the poet read when Elizabeth Fry's statue was unveiled in Providence, Rhode Island. (The other Elizabeth was St Elizabeth of Hungary.)

The purpose of Pickard's paper is to discuss four Elizabeths in Whittier's life. I already mentioned his sister Elizabeth Hussey Whittier and his niece Lizzie (Pickard's grandmother, on whom he concentrates in particular) in my last post, but not his romantic attachments to the Quakers Elizabeth Lloyd Howell and Elizabeth Neall.

The only woman Whittier ever discussed marriage with was Elizabeth Howell, whom he thought the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. Whittier had met Howell when he was staying in Philadelphia. She had an interest in art and poetry and like Whittier was an abolitionist. Their friendship blossomed, but Whittier blew cold, quite possibly because he wasn't in a financially secure position for marriage, as it was only with Snow-Bound in the 1860s that he became so, by which time he was in his fifties. So Howell married someone else in 1853, although she became a widow a few years later, which was a cue for their relationship to florish again, although Howell's criticism of what she saw as the limited culture of Quakerism and her espousal of Episcopalianism led to the end of the romance.

Elizabeth Neall too was from Philadelphia, and her father Daniel had been tarred and feathered for his anti-slavery stance. She strongly embraced women's independence, and visited Europe as an anti-slavery delegate. Whittier wrote the poem 'To a Friend on Her Return from Europe' for her, but never spoke of love to her, and she too married someone else. There's an odd thing about writers and virginity in Massachusetts, and one thinks of Emily Dickinson, Henry David Thoreau, etc.

Unfortunately a few typos missed the editing process: for example, the front page title conflicts with the title-page's rather odd 'Whittier as a Local Poet', Whittier is called 'reknown New England poet', and Pickard is described as Whittier's 'great-grand-newphew'.

John 'Ben' Pickard: A House Becomes a Home: The Women of the Amesbury Whittier House (2007)

John 'Ben' Pickard, the author of this booklet, is the great-grand-nephew of John Greenleaf Whittier. The background on the cover is a photo of the wallpaper from the east attic of the Amesbury Whittier house.

Written for a talk which took place five years before the publication of Whittier and His Elizabeths and also published in the same year (2007) by the Whittier Home Association, this booklet (along with the other) is interesting in that it approaches John Greenleaf Whittier's life from a feminist point of view, foregrounding the women behind the poet rather than the poet himself. It is also appropriate in that Whittier himself was a feminist, although perhaps more in theory than in practice.

Whittier (then aged 29) moved with his family to Amesbury, Massachusetts in 1836, leaving the home of his birth at the farm in East Haverill (pronounced 'HAY-vrill') which is about eight miles away and had been in the family since it was built in 1688: after the death of their father and uncle who had kept the farm, neither Whittier nor his brother Franklin wanted to be farmers, and the women of the household were not suited to the work.

These women were the mother Abigail Hussey Whittier, the single aunt Mercy Hussey, and the younger sister, Elizabeth Hussey Whittier. Pickard describes the first two women as 'domestic caretakers' doing the cooking, cleaning, and making the clothes for the male of the family, the man who would never marry and would remain at the house until 1876, when he joined his Johnson cousins in Danvers, Massachusetts.

Mercy died in 1846. Elizabeth Hussey Whittier was a companion to the poet for many years, although her health suffered a great deal in the 1850s, and it was also a huge loss to him when his mother died in 1857.

The following year Franklin's 13-year-old daughter — also named Elizabeth Hussey Whittier, but generally referred to as Lizzie — joined the household initially as a schoolgirl, although her aunt's ailing condition in the early 1860s meant that Lizzie increasingly took on the household tasks, also becoming companion and secretary to Whittier. Elizabeth died in 1864, and Lizzie's marriage to Samuel Thomas Pickard (later Whittier's biographer) in 1876 necessitated Whittier's move to Danvers. He died in Hampton Falls, New Hampshire in 1892 at the age of 85, leaving much of his estate — including the house — to Elizabeth 'Lizzie' Hussey Pickard, who had been with him for several of his final weeks.

Although Ben Pickard's booklet stresses the vital importance of women in the Whittier household (and indeed by extension in many other 19th century households) it is also the story of the physical evolution of the house, the alterations it underwent through the decades, and the story of late 19th century political disagreements between the Whittier Home Association and the Elizabeth Whittier Club.

Amesbury, Massachusetts: Proud of John Greenleaf Whittier, and...Al Capp

On more than one occasion, this blog has mentioned what Lee Smith has said about the perpetuation of the cruel myth that the inhabitants of the Appalachians are stupid. To recap, her words were:

'Appalachia is to the South what the South is to the rest of the country. That is: lesser than, backward, marginal. Other. Look at the stereotypes: "Hee Haw," "Deliverance," "Dogpatch" and "The Dukes of Hazzard." A bunch of hillbillies sitting on a rickety old porch drinking moonshine and living on welfare, right?'

Obviously it isn't right, although Amesbury, Massachusetts is proud of its associations with Al Capp, the creator of 'Dogpatch', a place probably in Kentucky which is home to stupid hillbillies.  In fact, Amesbury is so delighted with its Al Capp links that last year it erected a huge mural in honor of Capp, and a few months ago named an amphitheater after him:

Isn't there a conflict between celebrating two very different people associated with Amesbury? Now what would John Greenleaf Whittier, a man noted for his love of humanity, have thought of his adopted town praising a person best known for making fun of a minority group? Would he have just laughed it off? I think not.

Should I laugh it off, put it down to politically incorrect times, tell myself I have no sense of humor and admit Al Capp, in spite of everything, was a bloody good cartoonist? Dunno.

John Greenleaf Whittier (again) in Amesbury, Massachusetts: Literary New England #8

(If the numbers of the posts don't always tie up, it's because I'm still working on them and haven't published them yet, which may well mean that they're just saved so far, so they may well appear out of number order. Who wants orderly perfection, anyway?)

So, to return to John Greenleaf Whittier, I took some shots of his second home several days ago, of his grave, and of Captain Valentine Bagley's well, but Saturday is when the home is open, so we returned, and these are our findings:

I previously showed a few shots of the front of the Whittier building at 86 Friend Street, but here's one of the rear from the summer kitchen: equally (if not more) impressive. The Whittier family moved in here from the homestead in Haverhill in 1836, and John Greenleaf Whittier spent most of his adult life here. The reason for moving is clear: neither John Greenleaf nor his brother Frank wanted to be farmers, and living in the Haverhill homestead (in the family since 1688) would have meant exactly that.

When the house was bought Whittier was working in Connecticut, although he realized that it was too small for himself and three women: his mother Abigail, sister Elizabeth, and his aunt Mercy: an addition was therefore made shortly after the purchase, although others were made a number of years after this.

Whittier's library. Much of his work was written here, by the garden at the back.

This bed was not austere enough for Whittier's Quaker sensibilities, so this bedroom was largely used as a guest room.

Abigail Hussey Whittier.

The poet's beloved sister, Elizabeth Hussey Whittier.

Frank Whittier, whose marriage to a non-Quaker – from the Whittier family point of view at least – automatically excluded him from living in the household.

The preacher Harriet Livermore, who is mentioned in Whittier's long narrative poem Snow-Bound.

Of this sketch, a note says: 

'Joseph Sturge 

1703 - 1859
English Quaker and philanthropist. Active in the anti-slavery movement both in England and the United States. In 1847 he gave Whittier $1000 which enabled him to add the Garden Room and a second storey of two rooms to the original four room cottage.'

A model of Whittier's pet parrot Charlie, who was allowed the run of the house, as suggested by the hole here. Whittier also kept a pet squirrel.

Several busts of Whittier are displayed in the house.

So too is his death mask, which has unfortunately suffered from a little reflection here.

John Greenleaf Whittier in Amesbury, Massachusetts: Literary New England #1

After visiting the Quaker poet John Greenleaf Whittier's birthplace and early home in Haverhill, Massachusetts, it seemed only logical to visit his second home (this time in Amesbury, also in Massachusetts). Pity it's only open on Saturdays, though.

'WHITTIER'S HOME

1836 - 1892'

'HOME OF

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

HAS BEEN DESIGNATED A

REGISTERED NATIONAL

HISTORIC MONUMENT

UNDER THE PROVISION OF THE

THE HISTORIC SITES ACT OF AUGUST 21, 1935

THIS SITE POSSESSES EXCEPTIONAL VALUE

IN COMMEMORATING AND ILLUSTRATING

THE HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES

U.S. DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR

NATIONAL PARK SERVICE

1963'

Although Union Cemetery in Amesbury is quite large, it's not difficult to find Whittier's grave: just drive around for at the most a few minutes, and you're bound to find 'The Whittier Path'.

There, a tall sign announces 'HERE LIES WHITTIER'.

And this is a repetition of the words on his grave.

At the side of the grave, someone had placed a bottle of beer named 'Whittier White' from a brewery in Haverhill, the label of which bears a quotation from the poet.

On Main Street is a memorial both to Whittier and to Captain Valentine Bagley. Bagley was shipwrecked off Arabia and nearly died of thirst. He swore to God that if he ever returned safely home he would build a well so that no one passing would suffer thirst as he had. The well here has the same foundations that Bagley built when he returned home.

Whittier was impressed by the story so much that he wrote a poem about it entitled 'The Captain's Well'. The monument shows a representation of Bagley with a quotation from the poem at both sides.

Captain Valentine Bagley.

'AND IF EVER I REACH

       MY HOME AGAIN

WHERE EARTH HAS SPRINGS,

       AND THE SKY HAS RAIN

I WILL DIG A WELL

       FOR THE PASSERS-BY.

AND NONE SHALL SUFFER

       FROM THIRST AS I.'

 

'NOW THE LORD BE THANKED

I AM BACK AGAIN

WHERE EARTH HAS SPRINGS

       AND THE SKIES HAVE RAIN

AND THE WELL I PROMISED

       BY OMAN'S SEA,

I AM DIGGING FOR HIM

       IN AMESBURY.'

Leonard Craske executed the monument, which has two seats and a wall.

Plus a modern drinking water fountain.

Another monument to Whittier is the John Greenleaf Whittier Bridge between Amesbury and Newburyport over the Merrimack River. By this stands a commemoration of the occasion:

'THIS BRIDGE

ERECTED BY THE

COMMONWEALTH

OF MASSACHUSETTS

1954

IS DEDICATED TO HONOR

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

1807 - 1892

POET AND ABOLITIONIST

WHOSE HOME WAS FOR FIFTY-SIX YEARS

IN AMESBURY

Our Lord and Master of us all

What e'er our name of sign

We own Thy sway, we fear Thy call

We test our lives by Thine.

* * * * *

CHRISTIAN A. HERTER

GOVERNOR

JOHN A. VOLPE

COMMISSIONER

OF

PUBLIC WORKS'

John Greenleaf Whittier's Haverhill, Massachusetts

This sculpture, a tribute to the Quaker poet John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-92), the most famous son of Haverhill (pronounced 'HAY-vrill'), is downtown.

The whole poem:

The River Path

No bird-song floated down the hill,
The tangled bank below was still;

No rustle from the birchen stem,
No ripple from the water’s hem.

The dusk of twilight round us grew,
We felt the falling of the dew;

For, from us, ere the day was done,
The wooded hills shut out the sun.

But on the river’s farther side
We saw the hill-tops glorified,—

A tender glow, exceeding fair,
A dream of day without its glare.

With us the damp, the chill, the gloom
With them the sunset’s rosy bloom;

While dark, through willowy vistas seen,
The river rolled in shade between.

From out the darkness where we trod,
We gazed upon those hills of God,

Whose light seemed not of moon or sun.
We spake not, but our thought was one.

We paused, as if from that bright shore
Beckoned our dear ones gone before;

And stilled our beating hearts to hear
The voices lost to mortal ear!

Sudden our pathway turned from night;
The hills swung open to the light;

Through their green gates the sunshine showed,
A long, slant splendor downward flowed.

Down glade and glen and bank it rolled;
It bridged the shaded stream with gold;

And, borne on piers of mist, allied
The shadowy with the sunlit side!

'So,' prayed we, 'when our feet draw near
The river dark, with mortal fear,

'And the night cometh chill with dew,
O Father! let Thy light break through!

'So let the hills of doubt divide,
So bridge with faith the sunless tide!

'So let the eyes that fail on earth
On Thy eternal hills look forth;

'In Thy beckoning angels know
The dear ones whom we loved below!'

'The River Path'
artist: Dale Rogers
sponsored by: Team Haverhill
unveiled: August 14, 2010
inspired by: John Greenleaf Whittiers [sic]
                                             Poem:
                                  'The Rivers [sic] Path'

The Whittier Birthplace, at 305 Whittier Road to the east of the town, once a farm, was built by John Greenleaf Whittier's great-great-grandfather, and remained in the Whittier family until 1836. James Carleton, former mayor of Haverhill and friend of Whittier's, later purchased the property, gave it to the Haverhill Whittier Club,  and the museum was opened in 1893, the year after Whittier's death. It has remained much the same as when John Greenleaf Whittier lived in it.

'IN THIS HOUSE

BUILT BY THOMAS WHITTIER

IN 1688

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

WAS BORN

DECEMBER 17, 1807

HERE AND ABOUT THE SURROUNDING

COUNTRYSIDE LAY THE SCENES

OF HIS POEM

SNOWBOUND'

Samuel T. Pickard's Whittier-land: A Handbook of North Essex (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1904) states that 'The visitor's attention is usually first drawn to the great fireplace in the centre of its southern side [in the kitchen]', and quotes from Whittier best-known poem Snow Bound (1866), which was a huge success and further good sales from later books meant that Whittier could live comfortably for the rest of his life:

'The oaken log, green, huge and thick,
And on its top the stout back-stick;
The knotty forestick laid apart,
And filled between with curious art
The ragged brush; then, hovering near,
We watched the first red blaze appear,
Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam
On whitewashed wall and sagging beam,
Until the old, rude-furnished room
Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom.'

To the left of the photo above is a curious log device with five prongs: this is for roasting apples, and recalls the evocative line 'And apples sputtered in a row'.

Snow Bound is a long narrative poem in iambic tetrameter that was originally published as a full book. It goes back to the narrator's childhood, and is autobiographical throughout. The poem covers several days in December 1822, when snow held the family indoors, and gives descriptions of all the people present on that occasion. The poem makes clear at times that these are memories, and says that only the poet and his brother Flanklin Whittier are still alive.

John Whittier was John Greenleaf's father,  but the father in the poem is just called 'A prompt,  decisive man', who got  the boys to clear a path through the snow and reach the animals.

Abigail Hussey was John Greenleaf's mother, of whom Whittier says:

'Our mother, while she turned her wheel
Or run the new-knit stocking wheel'.

And certainly Abigail used this spinning wheel to the right of the photo to make the Whittier garments.

John Greenleaf's bachelor uncle Moses is also part of the family:

'Our uncle, innocent of books,
Was rich in lore of fields and brooks.
The ancient teachers never dumb
Of Nature's unhoused lyceum'

As is his maiden aunt, Mercy Evans:

'The sweetest woman ever Fate
Peverse denied a household mate.'

Of his elder sister Mary he says:

'A rich, full nature, free to trust,
Truthful and almost sternly just,
Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act,
And make her generous thought a fact.'

Of his beloved sister Elizabeth he says:

'Our youngest and our dearest sat,
Lifting her large sweet asking eyes,'

and immediately adds:

'Now bathed in the unfading green
And holy peace of Paradise.'

One of John Greenleaf's teachers is also present - George Haskell, of whom the narrator says:

'Brisk wielder of the birch and rule,
The master of the local school
Held at the fire his favorite place,
Its warm glow hit the laughing face',

And though the teacher's more playful as opposed educational side is seen here - playing with the cat with a mitten on its head - the narrator takes the opportunity of Haskell's learned presence to launch into a kind of digressive rant about ignorance and stupidity as opposed to their perceived adversary - education. Slavery - once Whittier's bête noire - is only briefly mentioned as the book was published after the Civil War had (very recently) ended.

The final person present is Harriet Livermore (1788-1868) - the 'not unfeared, half-welcome guest'. Livermore was a well-known preacher who traveled throughout the US.

The only other person mentioned in the poem is the 'wise old Doctor', this being Dr Elias Weld, an early benefactor of Whittier's, to whom the poem 'The Countess' is dedicated.

In Pickard's words:

'The little room at the western end of the kitchen was "mother's room," its floor two steps higher than that of the larger room, for a singular reason. In digging the cellar the pioneer found here a large boulder it was inconvenient to remove, and wishing a milk room at this corner, he was obliged to make its floor two steps higher than the rest of the cellar.'

Again, in Pickard's words:

'The door at the southwestern corner of the kitchen opens into the room in which the poet was born. This was the parlor, but as the Friends were much given to hospitality, it was often needed as a bedroom, and there was in it a bedstead that could be lifted from the floor and supported by a hook in the ceiling when not in use. [...] The inlaid mahogany card-table between the front windows was brought to this house just a century ago (1804) by Abigail Hussey, the bride of John Whittier, and placed where it now stands.'

 'The volume of Robert Burns loaned to the poet, when he was a boy of 14, by his schoolmaster, Joshua Coffin.' In a short autobiographical sketch written in 1882,  Whittier states that he begged Coffin to leave the book with him, and that this was more or less the first poetry he'd ever read, and that it was then that he started a dual life, writing his poems in his secret world of fancy.

And a sketch of Joshua Coffin.

Whittier's sister Mary discovered a poem he'd written and sent it to the Newburyport Free Press, which was edited by William Lloyd Garrison who printed the poem, 'The Exile's Departure'. Shortly after the publication, Garrison went to Haverhill to see Whittier, and urged him to get an education. By making shoes the first year and teaching the next, Whittier managed to spend two six-month terms at the Haverhill Academy.

 A painting in the kitchen of a rather young Whittier looking a little like Nathaniel Hawthorne.

 And a bust of the older Whittier, certainly made long after he had left this house.

 The chairs we sat on were the actual chairs of Whittier's grandfather.

 The rear of the house.

And finally our guide to the house, Gus Reusch, a very lively, informative, and fascinating docent who held us spellbound for quite some time. Not only were we allowed to take any photos we wanted here - itself unusual in Massachusetts - but encouraged to take time doing so. There was no sense of rush - quite the reverse - and Gus is obviously deeply interested in John Greenleaf Whittier. We left very happy, and I can honestly say - after visiting more authors' homes than I can readily number - that this is the favorite. Thank you so much, Gus.

Addendum: The Whittier Home have just (17 December 2011) published a video on their website of Gus Reusch reading Snow-Bound and answering questions. It lasts for 108 minutes and is here.