The month Ends today—I have been here five weeks. How time fugits! I begin to feel restless to begin another seige of work. But
mother is plotting ways to keep me here. I should like to stay with her. She has so
much to say, & remembers everything of our family life so clearly. And
then, she is lonesome. My sister has gone home. My brother
loc.03159.002_large.jpg
is busy in the shop; & the children in school. I hate to leave her with her uncertain step,
& to the necessity of sitting alone to brood over the past. She dont exactly
see why I can not do my work here. I explain; she understands for the moment; &
then returns to the charge next
day or two. Still, finally, she accepts the inevitable, and as the old hymn
says—"Puts a cheerful courage on–."
I am modeling a small bust of her. I tell her she has eyebrows like yours; cheeks
like Shillales; and a
double wallop under chin like Dr. Holmes.1 Her eyes have sort of grown together at
the sides, so loc.03159.003_large.jpg
only a round black spot appears. I shall bring on my bust of her when I come. My
sister has a great amount of executive ability, and though moral & liberal in all religious matters, almost
to the verge of non-believing, she has the bump of discipline & order big enough
to serve the German Empire. Mother & the rest of us are inclined to be lax in all
such matters. So you see what's the matter when she (sister) is here. But, More's the matter now she's gone, and I assume charge. My brother's wife died some years ago, leaving 3
children. The boy, Henry, 16 years old, spends much of his time since I have been
here, "drawing Walter Whitman." I often look in upon you silently, & see you and
the room: The sitting room with Mrs. Davis,2 the cat & dog; robin &
bantams. And out beyond, the "hens and things"—minus one thing!
loc.03159.004_large.jpg And so, how is Aunt
Mary. Somehow with her
croneing and her stealthy, flat footed tread, I can't avoid seeing her among
the immortals— "her back yard when I was a housekeeper and my cellar floor,
was always clean enough to eat your dinner on." Yes yes; how well she'd
keep these golden
stairs & pavements of opal & pearl in Paradise! Tell her when she comes
around that I enquire about her, & wish her good health & happy days for
many years yet—
And Mrs. Mapes3, & little Johnie, is it? I presume they, (& Johnie's sister) still drop in & sometimes "take a bite." And the other lady & her children—is it Mrs Cady ? No; I never quite got her name.
And of course Mrs D. keeps everything in apple pie order. Ah! the blessed old—4. Long may it wave!— Long may you wave it!
I suppose friend Harned5 puts in an appearance often. He is quite a remarkable man, I
think. As the old puritan preacher Robinson (was it?) said of the "Bible, "I believe
more light will break out of it when we are free." "or words to that effect. So when
H. gets free of his many encumbering, political, judicial (I don't mean just
that—can I say lawicial?), calls & duties, as I
think he may one day, and finds his way into the serener atmosphere & more
congenial line of thought. I expect more & more of the real light within him will
break out of him. He has a vast deal of good insights, and seems to select the good loc.03159.006_large.jpg things you have done with more
unerring vision than anyone I have met.
The Smiths6 are I venture good friends, but I have yet to discern that they know the "track of the old varmount."
And Tom Donaldson7—a surprising sort of a man—saying so many good things—with insights that don't seem to belong to him (physically viewed.)
Well. I am about sending you the Hicks.8 I shall mail to you to-morrow the engravings
& also a little sketch in oil on a box carr that I made from an old photo of a steel engraving
brought me by a Mr.Hines who
heard Elias preach when he was 10 years old. He says my copy is quite as good as the
original. I dont think so myself, tho' it aproximates. You understand I have made
two busts of Hicks—large & small. The large
one is liked best—the one I send— loc.03159.007_large.jpg I want it in time for the Fidelity boys to use in case
you lecture for them. And then I would like it on exhibition at the Friends
bookstore. Mr. [illegible]ston's
brother has enquired and can arrange that part. In case
anyone should like a copy. I should [illegible]
to use this one for getting others cast—replace it with new one.
Mr. Schultz, an old Hicksite likes the big one much. He was 16 when Elias came here in 28, & remembers his stoping overnight at his father's. He says he thinks he may find some old letters Hicks wrote about that time. He knows that there were some & he once read them. "Elias was a great man. A wonderful preacher—why, one Sunday before he finished his sermon tears were coursing down all our cheeks, young & old. His doctrine was the simplest & most effective—all sided, far reaching: the doctrine of the inner voice, this will guide every one who listens to it & follows its teaching, into all truth & goodness."
As soon as I can I shall see all the old friends hereabouts, loc.03159.008_large.jpg & glean such memoranda as they
may have for your consideration. The wonder to all is when I meet these saintly old
fellows why they are Hicksites:
one would suppose they would take a hint from him & stand by their own inner lights. Instead they try to tell me the way
Elias expounded the Scriptures. Strange too he should
expound scriptures when the Spirit & he were
closely intimate. But—
Do you hear anything of the bust that went to England? Seems to me they are a long while getting it on exhibition.
I hear good reports about the one in B from friends who have been in to see it. But no word as to its being offered to the library.9
Regards to Mrs. D—And to all "whomever they are"
Keep "so, so," "fair to middlin" anyway, & as much better as may be.
Truly, MorseCorrespondent:
Sidney H. Morse (1832–1903)
was a self-taught sculptor as well as a Unitarian minister and, from 1866 to
1872, editor of The Radical. He visited Whitman in Camden
many times and made various busts of him. Whitman had commented on an earlier
bust by Morse that it was "wretchedly bad." For more on this, see Ruth L. Bohan,
Looking into Walt Whitman: American Art,
1850–1920 (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press,
2006), 105–109.