Blackwell Family Hooper, Nellie Nov. and Dec. Alice Stone Blackwell 1876November 5th -76 Dear Alice I was glad enough to get your letter so soon, & thank you for making an effort to answer me promptly ; but (I know my complaint sneaks in with bad grace) I don't like such a short letter, from you. I am aware that "In Winter" was in the rhythm of Hiawatha. I wrote it three years ago, and least, & it was "founded on fact" , that is, a friend had "left us lonely" & I was feeling doleful about it. If I knew who, or what "L.G." stood for, I should enter into your "pome" better ; --parts of it seemed to me fine-- (by the way, your rhymes always seem to have more backbone than mine, -- or at least show more reason for being rhymed) -- the four lines beginning "the flower must die for the seed;" for instance : -- & the last three verses, --Your expressions are very strong; -- the contrast of a long vain life, & a splendid death!-- & againa "poor life", making, or learning a great story the closing, or some small part of the "life" was great & bright, not low & vain, then, doubtless. You had no need to ask excuse for faults of spelling in your last, for there were none. In two previous letters, however, I noticed slight mistakes, probably the result of haste. Do you know, spite of Boston's attractions, spite of the nearness of the sea, spite of chances to be had there, spite of you, my delightsomest, I hate to leave Ilion, I have grown so attached to my church & Sunday school class, I think changing chuches is horrible! In a city church, where into might nearly as well be ciphers, I shall feel lost & lonely. O dear! I've no respectable rhyme to send you , this time. Here's one very disreputable one. I hate to send it you. It's unfinished, being written in an odd moment & uncorrected, the subject is sufficiently frivolous & the handling sufficiently bad. however, its faults will be sufficiently apparent to you. To Fancy. Not now; although bright fancies throng. And chiming words, like silver bells Sweep in a current full & strong the river of my thought along Although my heart within me swells. Not now: although with ecstacy I feel my fair ideal thought Wrapt in bright robes of fantasy And crowned with grace & dignity Rise from me; to perfection wronged. Not now; although my pencil waits Trembling, above this unsullied page, Although impatience agitates My mind, my thought behind the gates of language flutters in a cage. Not now, though soon the fancies flee On fading wings; & janglingly The bellnotes sound & thought grows dullAnd the idea so beautiful Has shrunken to deformity! --- -! --I fancy, fair ethereal maid forgive my service negligent!- When thou beside me would I have stayed My longing [feet?] have been delayed And on distasteful errands sent. O Fancy, flee not quite away! I love thee;-- thy illusions fine Gave power my direct grief to stay; And I will woo thee, when I may, In many a wild fantastic line. O Fancy, if prosaic life Shall bid me deal with Common-sense Still be not with me, dear, at strife, I'll oft escape, + gladness-rife Rise on thine airy pinions, hence! - --- There! I'll be glad to have you express your disgust freely. It might do me good if you would. Please pray for me now, old chum, as for one at a crisis in her life. I never could pray [*for myself, with the secure faith I feel in praying for others.*] [*God bless you, dear, - Goodbye. Affy - Nellie. --*] November 19th [?6] Ilion, N. Y. Dear Alice:- I was glad of your long letter, but a little disappointed, of course to have us 'ponce' therewith. I'm glad you visited Lizzie, + had a talk with her. - The only reason that I didn't tell you where I was staying is, that I didn't think it would interest you, + it couldn't make any difference. However, as Liz has told you, I will add, that Mr + Mrs Benedict are the very nicest people. Mr Benedict quite literary his tastes, + would be a writer himself if he had time. - I enjoy staying with them very much. - If Lizzie was able to tell you when I am expected in Boston, she knows more about it than I do, - I am at present, my dear, as stationary mote, + am waiting to know in what direction to drift. - I am sorry you have so many worries, - butworries are not troubles, - or heart aches, or serious trials of faith + patience. - I am glad you are spared these. - Knock me down with Worcester if you like, but wait till I've done something worthy of it. In regard to "Drifting" , I didn't mean that it expressed "own state of mind" but that the ' state of mind' it expressed was a queer one. If I used the second person, singular, it was only for convenience. - I have not ever December 2nd - I don't know what I was going to say when I began the last sentence, I left your letter suddenly, + have not been able to return to it until now. - How funny it seems to be so near the end of the year! - Not funny either, to me, but forgetful, considering how empty this year is of good deeds, how little progress I have made in it, there! I can't write any more today, I feel so sick, (that is, bilious) .. I'll just copy you a rhyme, - you'll forgive the shaky handwriting. - I've just had a letter from I gazed through silence, - gaze - And saw a distant mark. - And - boldened by thy smile Toward the light I press This unknown land is mine Forevermore, - The mysteries divine Of all that shores - - The veiled loveliness But veiled, - a little while! - --- Theres a jumble for you! 'Grey silence' + 'hidden sounds' + all sorts of nonsense. - + thies you used promiscuously. - I hardly know what I meant when I wrote it, - myself. However, I can't help it. - I've no better to send you. - I suppose you have seen Lizzie and + Ben, by this time. Ben wrote that they were going to call upon you - There! I spoke of that before, but that was yesterday! - As to my taste in hymn it would take too long, (considering that Ihave two more letters to write this afternoon) to names over my list of favorites, I am very fond of good hymns, - I like Faber's, Paul Gerhardt's, & dear George Herberts. There are one or two quaint things of Herberts in our big Bryants Collection of poetry. One called "Employment" I liked much. I like, with you, hymns that are strong, & stirring, inspiriting. but I also enjoy hymns that are purely devotional, taking the form of prayer, or confession, also those that are ascriptions of praise. Different hymns for different moods. I never read that hymn of Ada's (I wonder if I should like to know Ada!). but I liked what you quoted. - I've kept you waiting a little for this letter, but I couldn't help it! Don't return evil for evil. Today is Communion Sunday, - Goodbye; Yours, Nellie Hooper Miss A. S. Blackwell Ben, in which he speaks of visiting you today, as Lizzie's escort, - Presuming he did. - I'll ask you if he was as big as you expected, & whether you think he looks Hooper-ry. Mystery. O fair, O, hear, O mine! O evermore mine now! - Walking the unknown land Without a guide Upon its dreams & wrapt strand By waters wide - I heard a heavenly tone And fair thy face divine! - Walking that unknown land "inside lovely shadows divine Inside hidden sounds & lights But half revealed Inside slumbrous vales & heights In silence sealed I heard a low toned hymn And then this face I saw! The hymn praise one, of things Too great for me to know - - Of victory after pain How high it sang - O loss, - the truest gain The pure voice sang. - - My heart began to glow My hand approached the strings! - I answered to your song In weaker tones, + less My spirit owned the power Of that you felt I knew in that great hour My heart to melt; Your song, - your loneliness, - Unbound my silent tongue. And through that dreary dark I caught a hope of day, - I felt that I could learn Of Mystery, Of that, toward which I yearn Continually, - Ilion, N. Y. December 26th, -76 Dear Alice: - -Thank you very much for writing so soon, - + such a dear letter. No one can comfort me as you can. I enjoyed your 'drop' very much, I remember; - I haven't your letter with me. - I am beginning to pluck up heart, _ 'put a cheerful courage on'. That hymn you quoted, a "My times are in thy hand" one, always a favorite of mine, + is just a mine of comfort just now; - + the text that goes with it "Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you!" makes me feel like a child with its head on its Fathers shoulder. - Quieted. - There are a number of things that I want to learn this winter; - to read more critically, + so as to learn + remember more, - to write more carefully, soas to keep in mind the idea I want to express, to economize time in my house-keeping, & to do my house-keeping neatly & thoroughly, - to learn to make good bread; & good butterholes, to acquire a little self-control; & self-possession, to learn to be unselfish, & when necessary, "happy under creditable circumstances!" Pray that I may be helped in putting myself to school. Speaking of knowing how to pray, I don't know whether I do nor not, but I can cry - to God, & tell my griefs & perplexities, & ask help & comfort, & strength - from All Power, & Love & Might, - I can bring my little thank- offering, & confess my sins, & ask God's care for all my friends; - & all this is as great comfort to me, - although I do have times of darkness, when I cannot realize that I am a child, of God, & feel us comfort in saying "Our Father". My largest pleasure lately, (counting out your letters & home letters) has been found in visiting her The hills have doffed Their red & gold And now in robes of sombre fold They frown aloft The snow has gone, There sounds no rain When shall we smile to greet again 'A shining morn! The days seem long No life, or mirth, - There sounds not on the stricken earth The voice of song. What do we wait! A light - a change; - the world looks lonely, sad & strange, And Winter's late. Soon we shall know The mind's awake, And from their bosoms these gray clouds shall shake the fleecy snow.Very stupid. "The world looks loudly" is absurd. The third line of the last verse is too long. Write soon, Happy New Year to you, dear! Goodbye Affectionately, Nellie. Miss A. S. Blackwell P.S. I shan't be able to write quite as promptly as heretofore, because I'm so busy, but as far as possible I will answer immediately; & you'll try to, mail you! - How shall I address your letters when The Journal office is changed? In regard to times of mental or spiritual darkness there's a passage in a beautiful lecture on prayer that I have, that is a comfort to me, & keeps me from feeling that I am only an atom of substance in a sea of shifting vapor. "But we ought to recollect, that even during the dark, the solid landscape has not vanished. but is only hid." - - The everlasting hills are there. I could write another half-sheet but must not - I could write two pages to you every time, with ease & I made a good batch of bread today. [I- I- I- !) goodnight! & Mrs Benedict. - Each visit is a season of refreshing, although I never say half I want to say, or hear half I want to hear - Mrs Benedict's two kisses, & Mr Benedict half a dozen hearty laughs cheer me up, & the conversation we have, is a holiday for my chatter box of a tongue. - (You profess to like egotistical letters, so I'm giving you one.) My next pleasure is in the church services, & my S. S. class. & next, in what little out-of-door exercise I get. I haven't written anything very lately, or read anything new, but the Semi-weekly Tribunes, in the last of which I read a review of Tennysons next drama "Harold". I was somehow surprised to see hear of another dramatic work by our laureate, he is getting so old, & "Queen Mary" seemed not very enthusiastically received, but I should think (To express myself most loosely & carelessly) that "Harold" must be splendid; - At any rate, I'm wild to read it. I liked that long piece in the"Woman's Journal" by Louise V. Boyd, "An Arabs' Story" - there were pretty places in it. "And we had lived eternities, where moments all were like to these," is expressive, + "And silence on the rosy air, Seemed silence born of mystery" - pretty. Several other places also. - I'm not a force verse-maker, although I love it. - I feel every time I write more helplessly - not a poet; & more ardently to covet that gist of gifts, free, pure & musical expression of high thoughts. I had a long rhyme for you, but haven't time to copy it tonight, so give you a little or at least littler one, instead, - A dreary day - No mind hath life, - The very air's with sorrow rife; The sky is grey The trees are bare The grass is dead; - A single rook above my head Flaps through the air. Saturday Evening December 16th -76 Dear, I was very glad to get your letter; it came, as so often it does, just when I had to have it. I was right, though it may not have seemed so to you & in making a distinction between worries & troubles, as trials of faith & patience, I come out now with the egoism which was half-concealed in my last letter, & say that my experience of real trouble & genuine pain of heart, makes me able to distinguish between greater & less. I (once more, & I'll stop) - am passing through a narrow place, & my faith, patience, & courage, seem stretched to their utmost, & becoming (like those thin places in stockings, that used to be your special aversion,) about worn through. - Where I feel like drafting for myself (not sentimentally) the last verse of Ada's hymn. Lizzie, I Direct to me, henceforward. Care L. R. Stockwell - P. O. Box 369.- 'In the words of a valued friend' "Write, drip, be prosperous & happy!"know, has made you quite a confidante concerning family affairs, - but she knows no more than anyone else, of my special little desert of loneliness and faltering faith, O Alice, my heart is sore! + sometimes I wish I could lay my head against you + cry; but that is the selfish side of my trouble, which, itself, is not more than a quarter for Nellie [Thorpe?], + only a fraction for the Bostonites of this family, - There, hush! - Don't answer this let-out, you cannot understand it, + I don't want to be encouraged to pour out my troubles to anybody, besides I'm ashamed of my selfishness! - I was considerably amused at the description you gave, of your learning to swear(!) I wish you great comfort in the use of your new expletives! - The idea of craving the 'gift of tongues' for such a purpose! - I am in a different state to you, as concerns my stack of rhymes, having an abundance of very hard ones on hand - Very poor because, not the result of thought or striking neutral experiences, but merely written because I had nothing to do, + the pencil was easier to handle than the needle. They will not be poor for that reason, again, for some time to come. I copy one wretch - perhaps the wretchedest. -X I'm Sunlight. - O the sweet pleasure of singing Thus all my joys be express - Feel through the sunny lands springing - Hope, like a butterfly, - clinging Deep in the sweets of my breast. - - Leaves of my spirit unfolding Drink in the light + the air, - - Beauty my fancy is molding, - - O the sweet joy of beholding Earth, summer-blessed + fair. - Gladness inspires my rhyming; - Beauty, + sunlight, + peace, - Heights that my spirit is climbingWhere all the heav'n-bells are chiming Melodies never to cease. Yea, though the glowing + warm light Fade from the earth + the sky, Memory's bidding shall form light E'en provides (sorrow wild storm-light Too fair, + too precious to die. - ------- -(Very disconnected, - bad figures in it, - + you'll notice my spirit is compared to a blossom in 2nd verse, + in the 3rd - climbs, - - like a caterpillar! - Too much of my "spirit" in it!) - The following's as bad in a different way, you'll see the bad rhythm. - Mystical joy, - that swells deep in my soul - Seeing the world upon a summer day, In golden sunlight (Sleeping, - Dream-wrap hill) and drowsy rules, beneath the spell of peace. - How the faint scent of clover from the fields - The trembling of a host of grassy heads, - Or some plain flower upon an eminence Quietly waving, - alone, - against the sky, On a single bird-note, - timid, - clear + low - Doth thrill my heart to gladness, + to tears. In everything I see more than I see - A thousand miles shake the brooding sky, - So blue - so deep, - so silent, calm, + fair - - And when a breeze springs up, + touches me Softly upon my forehead, - (with a hint On its fresh [spring?], of the inspiring sea,) Like a spirit, breathing love; - it breaks my heart Into a thousand passionate, loving, tears, - Through which I cry, "- O mystery! Happiness! - - O Father, [?] and great, + very good!-" ----- You might suppose the 'thousand voices' were "so blue - so deep - so silent" etc, etc, by the absurd wording of the lines. - I've given you a [?] of 'disa'pping' this time, + expect to receive some of A. S. B's very soon in return. - I wonder if I should like Ada, to know! - . - it's much more likely than that she would like me. - Pray hard for me, dear, - + don't suppose because I feel tried just now, that I don't feel very thankful for the Lord for my countless blessings + helps, + am not! holding on!I'm trying to 'squelch' Ap. - but he 'hand's a gripd' me' yet. - Alice, how very different we are, + how very fond we are of each other (?) - I think we're about as different as different can be. - Love to your 'mother', - I'm dreadfully envious of Lizzie + the rest, who can see you quite frequently, - Have you seen our towering Fan? She must be about as tall as you are. - Are the Boston winds up yet? [Slim?] winds are, (with a vengeance!) embodied in white whirls of 'powthery snow' - that blind the air, - + us. I've been reading "My Study Windows' (J.R.L.) + enjoyed it greatly. - Do you expect a merry Christmas. - I am elatedly anxious about Mary, Goodbye, Heartily your Friend, Nellie Hooper. Miss A. S. Blackwell.