What makes this parallel rather surprising in its perfection is
that Concord River empties itself into the Merrimac, and one might fancy
that its waters carried Emerson's magnetic thought and influence to
Whittier's own door. May not the career of any great man be compared to
the course of a river? and especially the lives of our American poets
would seem to resemble in their purity and transparency the rivers of
New England.
Whittier's house, however, does not stand by the river's brim, but near
the centre of the village, almost a mile away. It was a modest looking
structure, in appearance much like the Alcott house at Concord, but not
nearly so well situated. It faces towards the north, and has little land
about it, though there is a vegetable-garden in the rear. Neither is
there any protection for it from the cold blasts of winter. Here he
lived, at first with his sister and after her death with his niece, Miss
Lizzie Whittier, and I believe with another niece, who married a Mr.
Caldwell; but also a large portion of the time quite alone, except for
one or two servants, reading, meditating and writing poetry. A man who
has that kind of work to do, can never be very lonely. The interior of
the house, was plainly and comfortably furnished, and contained some
fine pictures and handsome books, the gifts of Boston friends; but its
chief ornament was the quiet dignity and amiable courtesy of the poet
himself.
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