“I find I cannot write a hymn or anything to be sung, but I shall have a poem of perhaps one hundred lines. I am afraid it will not amount to much, but it will show my good will at least. If needed, I can have it ready by the middle of the month.”
Later, he wrote: “I send the verses for the celebration. I wish the committee in charge would print it and send me two copies of the proof, as I may have to make some slight changes before it is ready for final printing. As I cannot read it myself, I must request that Professor Churchill of Andover may do it if he is not engaged otherwise.... He is a good reader and good readers are very rare. I want it read so well that its faults and failings shall be forgotten in the fine elocution of the Professor. I have written it under difficult circumstances, but I hope it may not be found amiss for the occasion. Have you had any correspondence with Haverhill in England? I think it would be pleasant to have a greeting from there.”
When it was found that Professor Churchill had already been engaged to read another poem for the same occasion, Whittier answered the suggestion of taking another reader:
“I am quite willing that Mr. B—— should read my rhymes. Mrs. Livermore, I think, would prefer to speak for herself to reading other folks’ verses. The committee can do as they think best. I shall be satisfied anyway. There are only one hundred and sixteen lines and they can be read in five minutes.
“I hear that there will be a large gathering at Haverhill from all the neighboring towns and cities. If the weather is fine it will be a great day for Haverhill. I send my picture of last year. On the whole, I think it is better to give the author of the ‘Haverhill’ poem as he is.”
A few days later he wrote: “I send forty or fifty copies of my poem. You may need some for the city’s guests and for reporters. If Mr. B—— is to read the poem, he should have a copy of it to look over. I was pleased to meet Mr. Gurteen of old Haverhill. I had some correspondence with him some years ago. He brings a beautiful token of good will from our English namesake with him.”
Mr. B—— went to Whittier’s home and read the poem to him before reciting it. For when anything of the poet’s was to be read in public, Whittier was desirous to have it given as he intended it, and, when he could, he liked to meet the reader and listen to his rendering of it. He would point out changes here and there, saying of a certain passage, “I meant it so,” and of another, “I meant that so.” And the reader must have been dense indeed if he did not catch the meaning, and unappreciative if he ever forgot those wonderful intonations and renderings of the poet’s verse by the poet himself.
XXI
Whittier would never take part in an “Authors Reading,” or in anything that had the least publicity. It was only in the garden room at Amesbury that he would read aloud a poem of his own. Or it may have been under the pines at Intervale towering like the forest primeval, or in some other quiet nook among the hills, with a little group of listeners about him—or perhaps with only one eager listener. Then his voice would rise and fall in notes and cadences which gave a wonderful power to the rendering of his own poems and a new perception of beauty in what had already seemed beautiful, a new awe and sublimity in what had before seemed grand.
When in the garden room he read “The Palatine” to an entranced listener, his voice made the scene live before her eyes; and in the inevitable retribution following sin prepared the way for that thought which pierces to the depth of life. Never again can that poem give forth its weirdness, its tragic, and awful pathos as it did in the tones of its author. There was nothing of “elocution.” His reading was word painting; one shivered when he said: