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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f9e05c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69728 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69728) diff --git a/old/69728-0.txt b/old/69728-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b9eb6c5..0000000 --- a/old/69728-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7381 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Authors at home, by J. L. & J. B. -Gilder - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Authors at home - Personal and biographical sketches of well-known American writers - -Editors: J. L. & J. B. Gilder - - -Release Date: January 7, 2023 [eBook #69728] - -Language: English - -Produced by: The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUTHORS AT HOME *** - - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - AUTHORS AT HOME - - - _PERSONAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF - WELL-KNOWN AMERICAN WRITERS_ - - EDITED BY - J. L. & J. B. GILDER - - NEW YORK - A. WESSELS COMPANY - 1902 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1889, - BY - O. M. DUNHAM. - - COPYRIGHT, 1902, - BY - A. WESSELS COMPANY. - - - - - EDITOR’S NOTE - - -The sketches of authors at home in this book have as their special -value the fact that the writer of each article was selected for the -purpose by the author himself. The sketches appeared from time to time -in _The Critic_, where they attracted particular attention by virtue of -their authenticity, as well as for the names of the subjects and the -writers. - -The Canadian border has been crossed in the article on Prof. Goldwin -Smith; but with this exception the series treats only of native -American writers who make their home on this side of the Atlantic. -Since these sketches were written, some of the most distinguished of -the authors in the list have died, all of them meeting natural deaths, -with one exception, Mr. Paul Leicester Ford. - - J. L. G. - - NEW YORK, _June, 1902_. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH. _By William H. Bishop._ 1 - GEORGE BANCROFT. _B. G. Lovejoy._ 17 - GEORGE H. BOKER. _George P. Lathrop._ 29 - JOHN BURROUGHS. _Roger Riordan._ 39 - GEORGE W. CABLE. _J. K. Wetherill._ 49 - S. L. CLEMENS (MARK TWAIN). _Chas. Hopkins Clark._ 61 - GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. _George P. Lathrop._ 73 - DR. EDWARD EGGLESTON. _O. C. Auringer._ 83 - EDWARD EVERETT HALE. _William Sloane Kennedy._ 97 - JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS. _Erastus Brainerd._ 111 - PROF. J. A. HARRISON. _W. M. Baskervill._ 125 - COL. JOHN HAY. _B. G. Lovejoy._ 135 - COL. T. W. HIGGINSON. _George Willis Cooke._ 147 - DR. O. W. HOLMES. _Alice Wellington Rollins._ 163 - JULIA WARD HOWE. _Maude Howe._ 181 - WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS. _William H. Bishop._ 193 - CHARLES GODFREY LELAND. _Elizabeth Robins Pennell._ 211 - JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. _George E. Woodberry._ 227 - DONALD G. MITCHELL (IK MARVEL). _Henry H. Beers._ 237 - FRANCIS PARKMAN. _Charles H. Farnham._ 253 - PROF. GOLDWIN SMITH. _Charles G. D. Roberts._ 263 - EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN. _Anna Bowman Dodd._ 273 - RICHARD HENRY STODDARD. _Joseph B. Gilder._ 291 - HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. _Rev. Joseph H. Twichell._ 313 - CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER. _Rev. Joseph H. Twichell._ 323 - WALT WHITMAN. _George Selwyn._ 333 - JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. _Harriet Prescott Spofford._ 343 - MRS. MARGARET DELAND. _Lucia Purdy._ 355 - F. MARION CRAWFORD. _William Bond._ 369 - PAUL LEICESTER FORD. _Lindsay Swift._ 385 - - - - - THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH - - - - - THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH - - ON BEACON HILL, AND ROUND IT. - - -Beacon Hill is the great pyramid, or horn of dominion, as it were, -of Boston’s most solid respectability of the older sort. Half-way up -Beacon Hill, Aldrich is to be met with at the office of _The Atlantic -Monthly_, of which he has been the editor since 1881. The publishers of -this magazine have established its headquarters, together with their -general business, in the old Quincy mansion, at No. 4 Park Street, -which they have had pleasantly remodeled for their purposes. Close by, -on the steep slope, is the Union Club; across the street the long, -shaded stretch of Boston Common; and above it is the State House, -presiding over the quarter, with its imposing golden dome half hidden -amid the greenery. The editor’s office is secluded, small, neat, and -looks down into a quiet old graveyard, like those of St. Paul’s and -Trinity in New York. It seems a place strictly adapted to business, -and is cut off from the outer world even by so much of a means of -communication as a speaking-tube. There was formerly a speaking-tube, -but an importunate visitor had his ear to it, and received a somewhat -hasty message intended only in confidence for the call-boy, and it was -abolished. “Imagine the feelings of a sensitive man--_my_ feelings, -of course--on such an occasion,” says the editor with characteristic -drollery. “I flew at the tube, plugged it up with a cork, and drove -that in with a poker!” Among the few small objects that can be called -ornament scattered about is remarked a photograph of a severely -classic doorway, which might have belonged to some famous monument of -antiquity. It has a funereal look, to tell the truth, but it proves -to be nothing less than the doorway of the residence of Thomas Bailey -Aldrich himself, in Mt. Vernon Street. Like one of his own paradoxes, -it has a very different aspect when put amid its proper surroundings. - -Mt. Vernon Street crosses the topmost height of Beacon Hill. Parallel -to the famed thoroughfare of Beacon Street, it is like a more retired -military line that has the compensation for its retirement of being -spared the active brunt of service. A very few minutes’ climb from the -office of _The Atlantic Monthly_ suffices to reach it. Precisely at -that portion of it where the pretty grass-plots begin, to the houses -on the upper side, is the attractive, stately mansion of an elder -generation, in which Aldrich has taken up his abode. He bought it, -some years ago, of Dr. Bigelow, a well-known name in Boston, and made -it his own. It is one of a block, and is of red brick, four windows -(and perhaps thirty feet) wide, and four tall stories in height, with -a story of dormers above that. The classic doorway of white marble, -solidly built, after the honest fashion of its time, is but a small -detail after all in such an amplitude of façade, and melts easily into -place as part of a genial whole. The quarter, its sidewalks and all, -is chiefly of old red brick, tempered with the green of grass-plots, -shrubs, and climbing vines. It has a pervading air of antiquity, and -it quaintly suggests a bit of Chester or Coventry. The neighbors are, -on the one hand, Charles Francis Adams; on the other, Bancroft, son -of the historian; while, diagonally across the way, is a lady who is, -by popular rumor, the richest woman in New England. The rooms of the -house take a pleasing irregularity from the partial curvature of the -walls, front and rear. They are all spacious, above-stairs as well as -below. The “hall bedroom,” of modern progress, was hardly invented in -its time. A platform and steps at one side of the hall, on entering -(they clear a small alley to the rear) have a sort of altar-like -aspect. The owner or his books might some time be apotheosized there, -at need, amid candles and flowers. Aldrich has been fortunate in his -marriage as in so many other ways. His family consists of a congenial -and accomplished wife, and “the twins,” not unknown to literature. The -most pervading trait of the interior is a sense of a discriminating -judgment and ardor in household decoration. Both husband and wife -share this taste, and together they have filled this abode and their -two country houses with ample evidence of it, and with rare and taking -objects brought from a wide circle of travel and research. Tribute -should be paid to the quietness of tone, the air of comfort, in the -whole. The collections are not made an end in themselves, but are -parts of a harmonious interior. Several stories are carpeted alike, in -a soft, low-toned hue. In days of professional decorators who throw -together all the hues of the kaleidoscope, and none in a patch larger -than your hand, and held upon these, brass, ebony, stamped leather, -marquetry, enamels and bottle-glass, in a kind of chaotic pudding--in -these days such an exceptional reserve as is here manifest seems little -less than a matter of notable personal daring. The furniture is of the -Colonial time, with a touch of the First Empire, and each piece has -its own history. There is a collection of curious old mirrors. In a -variety of old glazed closets and pantries in the dining-room (behind a -fine reception-room, on the entrance floor), Mrs. Aldrich shows a rare -collection of lovely china, both for use and ornament. - -This is a dining-room that has entertained many a distinguished guest; -and the little dinners, to which invitations are rarely refused by the -favored ones, are said to be almost as easy to give as enjoyable to -take part in. The agreeable host, who has always allied himself much -with artists, has on occasion dined the New York Tile Club. Again, -his occupation as editor of _The Atlantic_ makes it often his duty -or privilege to bring home strangers of note who drop down upon him -from afar. The unexpected is, indeed, one of the things consistently -to be looked for in Aldrich. On the evenings of the week when he is -not entertaining, he is very apt to be dining out himself. He is a -social genius, and understands the arts of good fellowship. Good things -abound even more, if possible, in his talk than in his writings. Every -acquaintance of his will give you a list of happy scintillations of his -wit and humor. There is nothing of the recluse by nature in Aldrich; -nothing, either, of the conventional cut of poet or sage in his aspect. -His looks might somewhat astonish those--as the guileless are so often -astonished in this way--who had preconceived ideas of him from the -delicate refinement, the exquisite perfection of finish, of his verse. -As I saw him come in the other day from Lynn in a heavy, serviceable -reefing-jacket, adapted to the variable summer climate of that point, -he had much more the air of athlete than poet. I shall not enter upon -the abstruse calculation of what age a man may now have who was born in -1837, but in looks, manners, habits, Aldrich distinctly belongs to the -school of the younger men. He is now somewhat thickset; he is blond, -and of middle height. He has features that lend themselves easily to -the humorous play of his fancy. The ends of his mustache, pointed -somewhat in the French manner, seem to accentuate with a certain -fitness and _chic_ the quips and cranks which so often issue from -beneath it. Mentally, Aldrich seems Yankee, crossed with the Frenchman. -In the matter of literary finish, he is refined by fastidiousness of -taste to the last degree. He is a man of strong likes and dislikes; it -would sometimes seem fair almost to call them prejudices. In his work -he has scarcely any morbid side. He is the celebrator of every thing -bright and charming, of things opalescent and rainbow-hued, of pretty -women, roses, jewels, humming-bird and oriole, of the blue sky and sea -and the daintiest romance of the daintiest spots of foreign climes. If -man invented the arts to please,--as can hardly be denied,--few can be -called more truly in the vein of art than Thomas Bailey Aldrich. - -From the rear window of the dining-room one looks out into a little -court-yard, more like a bit of Chester than ever. The building lot -runs quite through to Pinckney Street, and is closed in on the further -side by an odd little house of red brick, which is rented as a bachelor -apartment. It was formerly a petty shop, until Aldrich bethought him -both to transform it thus into a desirable adjunct, and to make it -pay a considerable part of the taxes. It is like a dwelling out of a -pantomime. One would hardly be surprised to see Humpty Dumpty dive -into or out of it at any moment. Pinckney Street might have a chapter -to itself. Narrower, modester, and at a further remove still from the -front than Mt. Vernon Street, it begins to be invaded now by quiet -lodging-houses, but still retains its quaintness and a high order of -respectability. A bright glimpse of the sea is had at the end of its -contracted down-hill perspective, over Charles Street. Aldrich formerly -lived in Pinckney Street, then in Charles Street, and thence removed -to his present abode. But, if it be a question of view, we must ascend -rather the high, winding staircase to the large cupola, with railed-in -platform, set upon the steep roof. The ground falls away hence on every -side and all of undulating, much-varied Boston is visible. Mark Twain -has pronounced the prospect from here at night, with the electric -lights glimmering in the leafy Common and the myriad of others round -about, as one of the most impressive within his wide experience. The -golden dome of the State House rears its bulk aloft, close at hand. -Up one flight from the entrance are the two principal drawing-rooms -of the house, large and handsome. The most conspicuous objects on the -walls of these are a few unknown old masters after the style of Fra -Angelico--trophies of travel. There are also a remarkable pair of -figures in Venetian wood-carving, nearly life-size. The pictures are, -for the rest, chiefly original sketches done for illustration of the -author’s books by the talented younger American artists. - -On the same floor is the library, a modest-sized room, made to seem -smaller than it is through being compactly filled from floor to ceiling -with a collection of three thousand books. The specialties chiefly -observed in its composition are Americana and first editions. Aldrich -would disclaim any very ambitious design, but there are volumes here -which might tempt the cupidity of the most finished book-fancier, and -of a kind that bring liberal sums in market. Something artistic in -the form has generally guided the choice, as for instance Voltaire’s -“La Pucelle,” and the “Contes Moraux” of Marmontel, containing all -the quaint early plates. You take down from the shelves examples of -Aldrich’s own works done into several languages. Here is his “Queen -of Sheba” in Spanish, Valencia, 1879. Here is the treasure which -perhaps he would hardly exchange against any other--the autograph -letter of Hawthorne warmly praising his early poems,--saying, among -other things, that some of them seem almost too delicate even to be -breathed upon. Never did a young writer receive more intelligent and -sympathetic recognition from a greater source. Among the curiosities -of the shelves in yet another way is a gift copy of the early poems of -Fitz-Greene Halleck to Catherine Sedgwick. On the title-page is found -a patronizing line of memorandum from that minor celebrity in American -letters, reading “Mr. Halleck, the author of this book, is a resident -of New York.” Aldrich has never been subjected to the severe pecuniary -straits which befall so many literary men. He has undergone in his -time, however, sufficient pressure to acquaint him with that side of -life at least as an experience, to give him a proper appreciation no -doubt of his ample worldly comfort, and also to furnish the stimulus -for the development of his early powers. He had prepared, in his native -town of Portsmouth, to enter Harvard College, but, his father dying, -he became a clerk instead in the commission house of a rich uncle in -New York. He had his own way to make in the literary world; he began -at the very foot of the ladder, with fugitive contributions, and by -degrees identified himself with the newspapers and magazines of the -day. He even saw something of Bohemian life, a knowledge of which is no -undesirable element in one who is to be a man of the world. He dined at -Pfaff’s, and was one of a coterie which circled around _The Saturday -Press_ and the brilliant, erratic Henry D. Clapp. I recollect passing -with him the office of this defunct journal in Frankfort Street, on -the occasion when he had come to New York to be the recipient of a -complimentary breakfast at Delmonico’s in honor of his induction into -the editorship of _The Atlantic Monthly_. He looked with interest at -the dingy quarters commemorating so very different a phase of his life, -and repeated to me the valedictory address of the paper: “This paper is -discontinued for want of funds, which, by a coincidence, is precisely -the reason for which it was started.” - -I have described Aldrich’s town house. He passes much of his time at -Ponkapog, twelve miles away behind the Blue Hills, and at Lynn, on the -sea-coast. “After its black bass and wild duck and teal,” says our -author in one of his charming essays, “solitude is the chief staple -of Ponkapog.... The nearest railway station (Heaven be praised!) is -two miles distant, and the seclusion is without a flaw. Ponkapog has -one mail a day; two mails a day would render the place uninhabitable.” -He took a large old farmhouse in the secluded place, remodeled it, -arranged for himself an attractive working study, and, used to men -and cities though he was, for a period made this exclusively his -home. His leading motive was the health of his boys, who needed an -out-of-door life. Ponkapog owes him a debt of gratitude for spreading -its name abroad. Until the publication of his entertaining book of -travel sketches, “From Ponkapog to Pesth,” it must have been wholly -unheard of, and even then I, for one, can recollect feeling that the -appellation was so ingenious as to be probably fictitious. With a -continuity that speaks strongly in its favor, Aldrich has passed the -summers at Lynn for seventeen years. From these must be excepted, -however, the summers of his jaunts to Europe, which are rather -frequent. The latest of these took him to the Russian fair at Nijni -Novgorod. In another, perhaps unlike any other traveler, he passed a -“day [and a day only] in Africa.” At Lynn, he has lived, in different -villas, all along the breezy Ocean Road. This is a street worthy of its -name, and it has a certain flavor of Newport, being a little remote -from the central bustle of the great shoe-manufacturing mart to which -it belongs. Others will quote a list of varied advantages for the -site; Aldrich will be apt to tell you he likes it for its nearness to -the railway station. The present house, of which he has taken a long -lease, is a large square wooden villa, painted red. It stands just -in the edge of a little indentation known as Deer Cove. “After me, -probably--who knows?” says the humorous host, who is not at all afraid -of a bit of the common vernacular. Nahant, Little Nahant and minor -resorts are in the view in front; Swampscott is three-quarters of a -mile away, at the left, and Marblehead at no great distance beyond -that. The feature of the water view is the bold little reef of Egg -Rock, with three white dots of habitations on its back. “Egg Rock is -exactly opposite everywhere. I recollect once trying to find some place -to which it was not opposite, just as in childhood I tried once to walk -around to the other side of the moon. In this latter case I suppose I -must have walked fully two miles.” So my host describes his peculiar -experience with it. - -The main tide of fashion sets rather towards Beverly Farms and -Manchester than in this direction. The family lead, gladly, a quiet -life, little disturbed by a bustle of visits. They depend chiefly for -society upon the guests they bring down with them. They find plenty -of occupation and interest, too, in caring for their boys. These are -twins, as I have said, and so much twins as to be with difficulty -distinguished apart. I was interested to know if they began to develop -the literary faculty. ‘Heaven forbid!’ said their father in comic -horror. Aldrich’s study at Lynn is a modest upper room, in a wing, with -a plain gray cartridge-paper on the walls, no pictures, and nothing -to conspire with a flagging attention in its wanderings. One’s first -impulse, on looking up from the little writing-table in the center of -the floor, would be to cast his eyes out of the single window, where -Egg Rock, in a bit of blue sea, is again visible. This window should be -an inspiring influence, letting in its illumination upon the fabrics -of the heated brain; and not in the gentler mood alone, for tragedy -is often abroad there. The fog shrouds Egg Rock, then rolls in and -envelopes the universe under its stealthy domination; again, the gale -spatters the brine upon the window-panes, and beats and roars about the -house as it might on the light at Montauk. - -As an editor, Aldrich is methodical. He goes early in the day to -the office of _The Atlantic Monthly_, and there writes his letters, -examines his manuscripts, and sees (or does not see) his visitors upon -a regular system. As to his personal habit of writing his literature, -he has none--at least no times and seasons. He waits for the mood, and -defends this practice as the best, or, at least for him, almost the -only one possible. This has to do, no doubt, with the small volume -of his writings, smaller comparatively than that of most of his -contemporaries. This result is perhaps contributed to also by the easy -circumstances of his life, and yet more by his devotion to extreme -literary finish. Experienced though he is, and successful though he is, -no manuscript leaves his hands to be printed till he has made at least -three distinct and amended drafts of it. He could never have been a -newspaper man; the merest paragraph would have received the same care, -and in the newspaper such painstaking is ruinous. His was a talent that -had to succeed in the front rank or not at all. He has produced little -of late, far too little to meet the demands of the audience of eager -admirers he has created. So delightful a pen, so droll and original -a fancy, so charming a muse, we can ill afford to spare. Yet that -mysterious genius that goes about collecting material for the archives -of permanent fame can have but little to dismiss from a total so small -and a performance so choice. - - WILLIAM HENRY BISHOP. - -[After ten years as editor of _The Atlantic Monthly_, Mr. Aldrich -resigned his position, and has since that time been living in Boston. -In 1893 he published “An Old Town by the Sea,” and two years later -“Unguarded Gates, and Other Poems.”--EDITORS.] - - - - - GEORGE BANCROFT - - - - - GEORGE BANCROFT - - AT WASHINGTON - - -Mr. Bancroft, the historian, was “at home” beneath every roof-tree, -beside every fireside, where books are household gods. Mr. Bancroft, -the octogenarian, who came into the world hand in hand with the -Nineteenth Century, was especially at home at the capital of the -country whose history was to him a labor of love and the absorbing -occupation of a lifetime. For although his career was one of active -participation in public affairs, his pursuits ran parallel with his -literary work. He was contributing to the making of one period of a -United States history while his pen was engaged in writing of other -periods. If self-gratulation is ever permitted to authors, Mr. Bancroft -must have more than once exclaimed, “The lines have fallen to me in -pleasant places!” as he availed himself of opportunities which only an -ambassador could secure and a scholar improve. - -It is the prose-Homer of our Republic whom it is my privilege to -present to the readers of this sketch. Picture to yourself a venerable -man, of medium height, slender figure, erect bearing; with lofty -brow thinned, but not stripped, of its silvery locks; a full, snowy -beard adding to his patriarchal appearance; bluish gray eyes, which -neither use nor time has deprived of brightness; a large nose of -Roman type, such as I have somewhere read or heard that the first -Napoleon regarded as the sign of latent force; “small white hands,” -which Ali Pasha assured Byron were the marks by which he recognized -the poet to be “a man of birth”;--let your imagination combine these -details, and you have a sketch for the historian’s portrait. The -frame is a medium-sized room of good, high pitch. In the center is a -rectangular table covered with books, pamphlets and other indications -of a literary life. Shelving reaches to the ceiling, and every -fraction of space is occupied by volumes of all sizes, from folio to -duodecimo; a door on the left opens into a room which is also full to -overflowing with the valuable collections of a lifetime; and further -on is yet another apartment equally crowded with the historian’s dumb -servants, companions, and friends; while rooms and nooks elsewhere -have yielded to Literature’s rights of squatter sovereignty. In the -Republic of Letters, all books are citizens, and one is as good as -another in the eyes of the maid-servant who kindles the breakfast-room -fire, save perhaps the vellum Plautus or illuminated missal. But men -are known not only by the society they keep, but by the books which -surround them. Just as there are “books which are no books,” so are -there libraries which are no libraries. But a library selected by a -scholar who was a book-hunter in European fields, who spared neither -time, money, labor, nor any available agency in his collection, must -be rich in literary treasures, particularly those bearing upon his -specialty; and such was Mr. Bancroft’s library. The facilities which -personal popularity, the fraternal spirit of literary men, and the -courtesy of official relations afford, were employed by Mr. Bancroft -when ambassador in procuring authentic copies of invaluable writings -and state-papers bearing immediately or remotely on the history of -the American Colonies and Republic. To these facilities, and his -own indefatigable industry and perseverance, is due the priceless -collection of manuscripts which, copied in a large and legible -handwriting, well-bound and systematically classified, adorned his -shelves. Of the printed volumes, not the least precious was a copy of -“Don Juan,” presented to him with the author’s compliments, sixty-six -years ago. - -Mr. Bancroft’s home was a commodious double house, with brown-stone -front, plain and solid-looking, which was, before the War, the winter -residence of a wealthy Maryland family. Diagonally opposite, at the -corner of the intersecting streets, is the “Decatur House,” whither -the gallant sailor was borne after his duel with Commodore Barron, and -where he died after lingering in agony. Within a stone’s throw is the -White House; and I would say that the historian lived in the centre -of Washington’s Belgravia, had not the British Minister’s residence, -with an attraction stronger than centripetal, drawn around it a -social colony whose claims must be at least debated before judgment -is pronounced. In front of Mr. Bancroft’s house is a small courtyard -in which, in spring-time, beds of hyacinths blooming in sweet and -close communion show his love of flowers. When conversing with the -historian, it was impossible to ignore the retrospect of a life so -full of interest, for imagination persists in picturing the boyish -graduate of Harvard; the ambitious student at Gottingen and Berlin; -the inquisitive and ever-acquiring traveler; the pupil returned to -the bosom of his Alma Mater and promoted to a Fellowship with her -Faculty--preacher, teacher, poet and translator, before his calling -and election as his country’s historian was sure; his entrance into -the arena of politics and rapid advance to the line of leadership; his -membership in Mr. Polk’s Cabinet; his subsequent Mission to England; -his much later Mission to Berlin, where he succeeded in obtaining from -Bismarck a recognition of the “American doctrine” that naturalization -is expatriation, and negotiated a treaty which endeared him to the -German-American heart, since the Fatherland may now be visited without -the risk of compulsory service in the army. - -When he first went abroad, an American was an object of curiosity to -Europeans, and we may compare his reception among German scholars to -that of Burns by the metaphysicians, philosophers and social leaders -of Edinburgh--first surprise, and then fraternal welcome. Two years -were spent at Gottingen, and half a year at Berlin. During this -period he was the pupil and companion of the great philologist Wolf, -of whom Ticknor’s delightful Memoirs contain such an entertaining -account; he studied under Schlosser, who so frequently appears in the -pages of Crabb Robinson’s Memoirs; he was a favorite with Heeren, -whose endorsement of his history was the _imprimatur_ of a literary -Pope. In his subsequent wanderings through France, Switzerland, and -over the Alps into Italy, he experienced the friendly offices of -men distinguished in literature, famous in history, and foremost -in politics. Some time was spent in Paris. With Lafayette intimate -relations were established; so much so, that the champion of republican -principles enlisted the young and sympathetic American in his too -sanguine schemes. Manuscript addresses were entrusted to Mr. Bancroft -to be published and disseminated at certain places along his Italian -journey. But the youthful lieutenant saw soon the impracticability of -the veteran’s hopes and plans. - -It was a novel sensation to converse with one who survived so many -famous men of many lands with whom he came in contact; one who -discussed Byron with Goethe at Weimar, and Goethe with Byron at -Monte Nero; who, seventy years ago, went to Washington and dined at -the White House with the younger Adams; who since mingled with the -successive generations of American statesmen; witnessed the death of -one great political party, and the birth of another, but himself clung -with conservative consistency to the principles he espoused in early -manhood. Yet neither his years nor his tastes exiled him from the -enjoyment of a congenial element of society at the capital. But his -circle rarely touched the circumference which surrounds the gay and -ultra-fashionable coteries of a Washington season. - -Mr. Bancroft had a warm sympathy for youth and childhood, and took -pleasure in the occasions that brought them around him. His habits -were those of one who early appreciated the fact that time is the most -reliable and available tool of the worker. It was for years his custom -to rise to his labors at five o’clock. After a noon-luncheon, he took -the exercise which contributed so much to his physical and intellectual -activity. He covered considerable distances daily on foot or horseback, -for he was both pedestrian and rider of the English type; or, if the -weather did not favor these methods of laying in a supply of oxygen, he -might have been seen reclining in a roomy two-horse phaeton. - -Two generations intervened between the youthful visitor at the capital -and the venerable statesman and historian, who in his last days, -beneath his own vine and fig-tree, “crowned a youth of labor with an -age of ease.” Yet the preacher, teacher, poet, essayist, translator, -philologist, linguist, statesman, diplomat, historian, pursued with -tempered ardor his literary avocations. Readers of _The North American -Review_ had the pleasure of perusing, some years ago, his valuable -paper on Holmes’s “Emerson.” He published more recently (in 1886) a -brochure on the Legal Tender Acts and Decisions; but nothing was ever -allowed to interfere with the revision of his _opus major_, the History -of the United States, the sixth and last volume of the new edition of -which was issued by the Appletons in February, 1885. - -As an octogenarian is not, strictly speaking, a contemporary, I -venture to enter the realm of biography, and refer to what renders -Mr. Bancroft the most interesting of American authors. His translation -from the path of pedagogy, from the dream-land of poetry, from the -atmosphere of theology, and the arena of party strife and the novelty -of official life, was a transition from extreme to extreme. Yet he -brought with him into his new fields the best fruits of his experience -in the old. He did not inflame the passions of the masses at the -hustings, but instructed their judgment. When he assumed the office of -Collector of the Port of Boston, he exhibited a capacity for business -which would have silenced the modern Senator who not only characterized -scholars as “them literary fellers,” but prefixed an adjective which -may not be repeated to ears polite. How many Cabinet officers are -remembered for any permanent reform or progressive movement they have -accomplished or initiated? But to Mr. Bancroft the country owes the -establishment of the Naval School at Annapolis; and science is indebted -to his fostering care for the contributory usefulness of the National -Observatory, which languished until he took the Naval portfolio. When -at the Court of St. James he negotiated America’s first postal treaty -with Great Britain; while allusion has been made to the important -service rendered at the German capital. In politics Mr. Bancroft was -always a Democrat. He was one of those who angered fanatics by their -love for the Constitution, and enraged secessionists by their devotion -to the Union,--who labored to avert the War, but whom the first gun -fired at Fort Sumter rallied to the support of Mr. Lincoln. And when -the last great eulogy of the martyred President was to be pronounced, -Mr. Bancroft was chosen to deliver it. - -On the approach of summer, Mr. Bancroft led the exodus which leaves the -capital a deserted village. July found him domiciled at Newport, in -an old, roomy house, which faces Bellevue Avenue and is surrounded by -venerable trees, beneath whose wide-spreading shade the visitor drives -to the historian’s summer home. The view of the ocean is one of the -accidental charms of the spot, but the historian’s own hand dedicated -an extensive plot to a garden of roses--the flower which was nearest to -his heart. At Newport he led a life similar to that in Washington. He -rose early and saw the sun rise above the sea; he devoted a portion of -his time to literary pursuits, and entered into the social life of the -place, without taking part in its gayeties. In October he struck his -tent, and returned to his other home in time to enjoy the beauties of -our Indian summer. - - B. G. LOVEJOY. - - - - - GEORGE H. BOKER - - - - - GEORGE H. BOKER - - IN PHILADELPHIA - - -Like Washington Irving, Bancroft, Hawthorne, Lowell, Motley, Bayard -Taylor, and Bret Harte, George H. Boker may be counted among those -American authors who have been called upon to serve their country in -an official capacity abroad. But the greater part of his life was -spent in Philadelphia, where he was born in 1823. The house stands in -Walnut Street; a building of good height, with a facing of conventional -brown-stone, and set in the heart of the distinctively aristocratic -quarter. For Mr. Boker was born to the inheritance of wealth and a -strong social position, and it is natural that the place and the -face of his house should testify to this circumstance. In fact, he -was so closely connected with the society which enjoys a reputed -leisure, that when as a young man he declared his purpose of making -authorship and literature his life-work, his circle regarded him as -hopelessly erratic. Philadelphians, in those days, could respect -imported poets, and no doubt partially appreciated poetry in books, -as an ornamental adjunct of life. But poetry in an actual, breathing, -male American creature of their own “set,” was a different matter. The -infant industry of the native Muse was one that they never thought of -fostering. - -It was soon after graduating at Nassau Hall, Princeton, that Boker made -known his intention of becoming an author. From what I have heard, -I infer that his resolve caused his neighbors to look upon him with -somewhat the same feeling as if he had suddenly been deposited on their -decorous doorsteps in the character of a foundling. Nevertheless, he -persisted quietly; and he succeeded in maintaining his position as -a poet of high rank and an accomplished man of the world, who also -took an active part in public affairs. He takes place with Motley on -our roll of well-known authors, as a rich young man giving himself to -letters; and it is even more remarkable that he should have cultivated -poetry in Philadelphia, where the conditions were unfavorable, -than that Motley should have taken up history in Boston, where the -conditions were wholly propitious. Boker’s house bears the impress -of his various and comprehensive tastes. To this extent it becomes -an illustration of his character, and the illustration is worth -considering. - -The first floor, as one enters from the hallway, contains the -dining-room at the back, and a long, stately drawing-room fitted -up with old-time richness and imbued with an atmosphere of courtly -reception. But the library or study is above, on the second floor. -It has two windows looking out southward over the garden in the rear -of the house, and the whole effect of the room is that of luxurious -comfort mingled with an opulence of books. The walls are hung with -brown and gilded paper, and the visitor’s feet press upon a heavy -Turkish carpet, brought by the poet himself from Constantinople, -suggesting the quietude of Tennyson’s “hushed seraglios.” The chairs -and the lounges are covered with yellow morocco. On the wall between -the two windows hangs a copy of the Chandos portrait of Shakspeare; and -below this there is a large writing-table, provided with drawers and -cupboards, where Mr. Boker kept his manuscripts. His work, however, was -not done at this desk, for in the centre of the room there was a round -table under the chandelier, with a large arm-chair drawn up beside it. -In this chair, and at this round table, Mr. Boker wrote nearly all -his works; but, unlike most authors, he did not do his writing on the -table. A portfolio held in front of him, while he sat in the chair, -served his purpose; and it may also be worth while to note the fact -that his plays and his poems, composed in this spot, were first set -down in pencil. - -The surroundings are delightful. On all sides the walls are filled with -book-cases reaching almost to the ceiling; the windows are hung with -heavy curtains decorated with Arabic designs; and in winter a fire of -soft coal burns in the large grate at one side of the apartment. The -books that glisten from the shelves are cased in bindings and covers of -the finest sort, made by the best artists of England and France. As to -their contents, the strength lies in a collection of old English drama -and poetry and a complete set of the Latin classics. It must be said -here, however, that Mr. Boker’s books are by no means confined to the -library. The presence of books is visible all through the house, and -one can trace at various points the fact that the owner of these books -has always aimed to collect the best editions. In later days Mr. Boker -has, in a measure, been exiled from the companionship of the choicest -books in his study; because, in order to obtain uninterrupted quiet, -he has been obliged to retire to a small room on the floor above his -library, where he is more secure from disturbance. - -The dining-room is a noteworthy apartment, not only because many -distinguished persons have been entertained in it, but also because it -is beautifully finished with a ceiling and walls of black oak, framing -scarlet panels, that set off the buffets and side-cases full of silver -services. If any one fancies, however, that the appointments of the -dining-room and the library indicate a too Sybaritic taste, he should -ascend to the top floor of the house, where Mr. Boker had a workshop -containing a complete outfit for a turner in metals. Mr. Boker always -had a taste for working at what he called his “trade” of producing -various articles in metal, on his turning-lathe. In younger days it -used to be his boast that he could go into the shop of any machinist, -take off his coat, and earn his living as a skilled workman. He still -practiced at the bench in his own workshop, at the age of sixty-five. -It seems to me that he was unique among American authors, in uniting -with the grace and fire of a genuine poet the diversions of a rich -society man, the functions of a public official, and a capacity for -practical work as a mechanic. - -We must bear in mind, also, that this skilled laborer, this man of -social leisure and amusement, and this poet, was also a man of intense -action in the time of the Civil War, when he organized the Union League -of Philadelphia, which consolidated loyal sentiment in the chief city -of Pennsylvania, at the time when that city was wavering. All the -Union Leagues of the country were patterned after this organization -in Philadelphia. Moreover, when Mr. Boker undertook and carried on -this work, his whole fortune was in danger of loss, from a maliciously -inspired law-suit. With the risk of complete financial ruin impending, -he devoted himself wholly to the cause of patriotism, and poured out -poem after poem that became the battle-cry of loyalists throughout the -North. His character and services won the friendship of General Grant; -and after the War, he was appointed United States Minister to Turkey; -from which post he was promoted to St. Petersburg. The impression -he made at that capital was so deep that, when he was recalled, -Gortschakoff received his successor with these words: “I cannot say I -am glad to see you. In fact, I’m not sure that I see you at all, for -the tears that are in my eyes on account of the departure of our friend -Boker.” In both of these places he rendered important services. Among -the dramas which were the fruit of his youth, “Calaynos” and “Francesca -da Rimini” achieved a great success, both in England and in this -country. The revival of “Francesca da Rimini” at the hands of Lawrence -Barrett, and its run of two or three seasons, thirty years after its -production, is one of the most remarkable events in the history of the -American stage. Nor should it be forgotten that Daniel Webster valued -one of Boker’s sonnets so much, that he kept it in memory to recite; -and that Leigh Hunt selected Boker as one of the best exponents of -mastery in the perfect sonnet. - -An early portrait of Mr. Boker bears strong resemblance to Nathaniel -Hawthorne in his manly prime. But passing decades, while they did not -bend the tall, erect figure, whitened the thick, military-looking -moustache and short curling hair that contrasted strikingly with a -firm, ruddy complexion. His commanding presence and distinguished -appearance were as well known in Philadelphia as his sturdy personality -and polished manners were. For many years he continued to act as -President both of the Union League and of the old, aristocratic, yet -hospitable, Philadelphia Club. These two clubs, his home occupations -and his numerous social engagements occupied much of his leisure during -the winter; and his summers were usually spent at some fashionable -resort of the quieter order. How he contrived to find time for reading -and composition it is hard to guess; but his pencil was not altogether -idle even in his last years. When a man had so consistently held his -course and fixed his place as a poet, a dramatist, a brilliant member -of society, an active patriot and a diplomatist, it seems to me quite -worth our while to recognize that he did this under circumstances of -inherited wealth which usually lead to inertness. It is worth our -while to observe that a rich American devoted his life to literature, -and did so much to make us feel that he deserved to be one of the few -American authors who enjoyed a luxurious home. - - GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP. - - - - - JOHN BURROUGHS - - - - - JOHN BURROUGHS - - AT ESOPUS ON THE HUDSON - - -When the author of “Winter Sunshine” comes to town, it is over the -most perfectly graded track and through the finest scenery about New -York. Returning he is carried past Weehawken and the Palisades, through -the Jersey Meadows, in and out among the West Shore Highlands, under -West Point, and past Newburg factories and Marlborough berry farms. He -leaves the train at West Park, mounts a hill through a peach-orchard, -crosses a grassy field, and the high-road when he reaches the top, -opens a rustic gate, and is at home. From the road, you look down upon -the roofs and dormers and chimneys of the house, about half covered -with the red and purple foliage of the Virginia creeper. The ground -slopes quite steeply, so that the house is two stories high on the -side next the road and three on the side toward the river, which winds -away between high, wooded banks to the Catskills, twenty miles to the -north, and to the Highlands, thirty miles to the south. The slope, in -the rear of the house, to the river, is laid out in a grapery and an -orchard of apple and peach trees. Between the house and the road the -steep hillside is tufted with evergreens and other ornamental trees. -At the foot of the hill, the gray roofs of a big ice-house are seen. -Squirrels, that have their nests in the sawdust packing, clamber -around the walls. Near the house, to the left, there is a substantial -store-house, and a carriage-shed and stable. There are two other -dwellings on the farm. The country immediately about is all very much -alike, nearly half of it in ornamental plantations surrounding neat -country houses; the other half, where it is not occupied by rocks, -being covered with fruit, or corn, or grass. The opposite shore of the -Hudson is of the same character, varied with clumps of timber, villas -and farm-houses of the style that was in vogue before the introduction -of the so-called Queen Anne mode of building; a few cultivated -fields and many wild meadows and out-cropping ridges of slate rock -intervening. But the interior country, on the hither-side, back of -the railroad which cuts through the slate hills like a hay-knife, -is a perfect wilderness--rugged, barren, and uninhabited. A number -of little lakes lie behind the first range of hills, the highest of -which has been named by Mr. Burroughs Mount Hymettus, because it is a -famous place for wild bees and sumac honey. From one of these ponds, an -exemplary mountain stream--model of all that a mountain stream should -be--makes its way by a series of cascades into the valley, where it -forms deep pools, peopled by silvery chub and black bass, brawls over -ledges, sparkles in the sun, and sleeps in the shadow, and performs -all the recognized and traditional brook “business” to perfection. Its -specialty is its bed of black stones and dark green moss, which has -gained it its name of Black Creek. At one spot, where it passes under a -high bank overhung by hemlocks, it has communicated its dark color to -the very frogs that jump into it, and to the dragonflies that rid it of -mosquitoes. - -The road between West Park and Esopus crosses this brook near a ruined -mill, whose charred rafters lie in the cellar, and whose wheel-buckets -are filled with corn-shucks. The ruby berries of the nightshade hang -in over its window-sills. This is the most varied two miles of road -that I can bring to mind. Starting with a fine view up and down the -river, it soon dips into the valley, between walls of slate and rows -of tall locusts. The locusts are succeeded by the firs and pines of -a carefully kept estate. Then comes the stream, spanned by a rustic -bridge; the ruined mill, and the new rise of ground which, beyond the -railroad, reaches up into summits covered with red oaks and flaming -orange maples. A tree by the roadside, now torn in two by a storm, is -pointed out by Mr. Burroughs as the former home of an old friend of -his--a brown owl who, in the course of a ten years’ acquaintanceship, -as if dreading the contempt that familiarity breeds, never showed an -entire and unhesitating confidence in him. The bird would slink out of -sight as he approached--slowly and by imperceptible degrees; wisely -effacing himself rather than that it should be said he was too intimate -with a mere human. Esopus contains a tavern, a post-office, a bank, -a blacksmith-shop, and one or two houses; and yet--like an awkward -contingency--one never suspects its existence until he has got fairly -into it. From the railroad station it is invisible; it cannot be seen -from the river; and the road, which runs through it, knows nothing of -it before or after. - -Mr. Burroughs’s portrait must be drawn out of doors. He is of a medium -height, but being well-built and having a fine head, he gives the -impression of being by no means a middling sort of a man, physically. -His skin is well tanned by exposure to all sorts of weather. He has -grisly hair and beard. The eyes and mouth have a somewhat feminine -character; the eyes are humid, rather large, and they are half closed -when he is pleased; the lips are full, the line between them never -hard, and the corners of the mouth are blunt. The nose would be Roman, -if it were a trifle longer. I make no apology for giving so short a -description of a man whom it would be well worth while to paint. It is -unnecessary to sketch his mental features, for he has unconsciously -placed them on record, himself, in the delightful series of essays -which he has added to the treasures of the English language. - -His walks, his naturalistic rambles, his longer boating or shooting -excursions, are the subjects of some of his most entertaining chapters; -but a not impertinent curiosity may be gratified by some account of his -everyday life when at home and at work. His literary labors are at a -standstill throughout the summer. He does not take notes. Even when he -has returned from camping out, or canoeing, or from his summer vacation -of whatever form, he does not rush at once to pen and paper. He waits -till the spirit moves him, which it usually begins to do a little -after the first frosts. He rises early--between five and six o’clock; -breakfasts, reads the newspapers or employs himself about the house and -farm until nine or ten; then writes for three or four hours, seldom -more. He has always refused to do literary work to order, although he -has had some tempting offers. He will write only what he pleases, and -when he pleases, and so much as he pleases. And he observes no method -in preparing, any more than in doing, his work. He exacts from himself -no account of his time. He does not feel himself bound in conscience -to improve every incident that has occurred, every observation he has -made during the year. He simply lets the material which he has absorbed -distill over into essays long or short, few or many, as providence -directs. He does not belong to the class of methodical laborers who -make a business of writing, and who would feel conscience-stricken if, -at the close of their working-day, they had not blackened a certain -number of sheets of white paper. But he acknowledges that good work is -done in that way, and he thinks it is all a matter of habit. - -His neighbors see to it that his leisure does not degenerate into -idleness. They have made a bank examiner of him, and a superintendent -of roads, and, latterly, a postmaster. The first-mentioned position is -the only one that has any emoluments attached to it; but, as he likes -to drive, he thinks it for his interest to see after the roads, and he -hopes, now that his post-office at West Farms is in working order, to -get his mails in good time. - -Most of his books--“Wake Robin,” “Birds and Poets,” “Winter Sunshine,” -etc.--were written in the library of his house, a small room, fitted -with book-shelves both glazed and open, and enjoying a splendid view -of the Hudson to and beyond Poughkeepsie. But he has lately built -himself a study, several hundred yards from the house and more directly -overlooking the river. Here he has pretty complete immunity from noise -and from interruptions of all sorts. It is a little, square building, -the walls rough-cast within and faced with long strips of bark without. -Papers, magazines, books, photographs, lithographs lie scattered over -the table, the window-sills and the floor, and fill some shelves let -into a little recess in the wall. A student’s lamp on the table shows -that the owner sometimes reads here at night. His room-mates at present -are some wasps hatched out of a nest taken last winter and suspended to -the chimney. This primitive erection is further ornamented with a lot -of pictures of men and birds, the men mostly poets--Carlyle being the -only exception--and the birds all songsters. Two steps from the study -is a summer-house of hemlock branches, with gnarled vine-stocks twisted -in among them, where one may sit of an afternoon and read the New -York morning papers, or watch the boats or the trains on the opposite -bank, or the antics of a squirrel among the branches of the apple-tree -overhead, or the struggles of a honey-bee backing out of a flower of -yellow-rattle. - -Mr. Burroughs has been his own architect; and I know many people who -might wish that he had been theirs too. He planned and superintended -the erection of his house, which is a four-gabled structure, with a -porch in front and a broad balcony in the rear. Most of the timber for -the upper story is oak from his old Delaware County farm. The stone of -which the two lower stories are built was obtained on the spot, and is -a dark slate plentifully veined with quartz. Great pains were taken -in the building to turn the handsomest samples of quartz to the fore, -and to put them where they would do the most good, artistically. Over -the lintel of the door, for example, is a row of three fine specimens; -and a big chunk, with mosses lying between its crystals, protrudes -from the wall near the porch. The variety of color so obtained, with -the drab woodwork of the upper story and the red Virginia vine, keeps -the house, at all seasons, in harmony with its surroundings. It is no -less so within; for doors, wainscots, window-frames, joists, sills, -skirting-boards, floor and rafters are all of native woods, left of -their natural colors, and skillfully contrasted with one another; one -door being of Georgia pine with oak panels, another of chestnut and -curled maple, a third of butternut and cherry, and so on. Grayish, or -brownish, or russet wall-papers, and carpets to match, give the house -very much of the appearance of a nest, into the composition of which -nothing enters that is not of soft textures and low and harmonious -color. - - ROGER RIORDAN. - - - - - GEORGE W. CABLE - - - - - GEORGE W. CABLE - - AT NEW ORLEANS AND NORTHAMPTON - - -Far up in the “garden district” of New Orleans stands a pretty cottage, -painted in soft tones of olive and red. A strip of lawn bordered with -flowers lies in front of it, and two immense orange trees, beautiful at -all seasons of the year, form an arch above the steps that lead up to -the piazza. Here Mr. Cable made his home for some years, and here were -written “The Grandissimes,” “Madame Delphine” and “Dr. Sevier.” Those -who were fortunate enough to pass beyond its portals found the interior -cosy and tasteful, without any attempt at display. The study was a room -of many doors and windows with low bookcases lining the walls, and -adorned with pictures in oil and water-colors by G. H. Clements, and in -black and white by Joseph Pennell. The desk, around which hovered so -many memories of Bras-Coupé and Madame Delphine, and gentle Mary, was -a square, old-fashioned piece of furniture, severely plain, but very -roomy. - -Neither was comfort neglected; for a hammock swung in the study, in -which the author could rest, from time to time, from his labors. Mr. -Cable’s plan of work is unusually methodical, for his counting-room -training has stood him in good stead. All his notes and references are -carefully indexed and journaled, and so systematized that he can turn, -without a moment’s delay, to any authority he wishes to consult. In -this respect, as in many others, he has not, perhaps, his equal among -living authors. In making his notes, it is his usual custom to write -in pencil on scraps of paper. These notes are next put into shape, -still in pencil, and the third copy, intended for the press, is written -in ink on note-paper--the chirography exceedingly neat, delicate and -legible. He is always exact, and is untiring in his researches. The -charge of anachronism has several times been laid at his door; but this -is an accusation it would be difficult to prove. Before attempting to -write upon any historical point, he gathers together all available data -without reckoning time or trouble; and, under such conditions, nothing -is more unlikely than that he should be guilty of error. Mr. Cable has -a great capacity for work, and his earlier stories were written under -the stress of unremitting toil. Later, when he was able to emerge from -business life and follow the profession of literature exclusively, he -continued his labors in the church, and never allowed any engagement -to interfere with his Sunday-school and Bible-classes. In his books, -religion has the same place that it takes in a good man’s life. Nothing -is said or done for effect; neither is he ashamed to confess his faith -before the world. - -It is perhaps strange that Mr. Cable should have the true artistic, as -well as the religious, temperament, since these two do not invariably -go hand in hand. Music, painting, and sculpture are full of charms for -him, and he is an intuitive judge of what is best in art. His knowledge -of music is far above the ordinary, and he has made a unique study of -the usually elusive and baffling strains of different song-birds. He -is such a many-sided man that he should never find a moment of the -day hanging heavily upon his hands. The study of botany was a source -of great pleasure to him, at one time; and he had, also, an aviary in -which he took a deep interest. - -Seemingly sedate, Mr. Cable is full of fun; and charming as he is in -general society, a compliment may be paid him that cannot often be -spoken truthfully of men of genius--namely, that he appears to the best -advantage in his own home. His children are a merry little band of five -girls and one boy, each evincing, young as they are, some distinctive -talent. It is amusing to note their appreciation of ‘father’s fun,’ and -his playful speeches always give the signal for bursts of laughter. -This spirit of humor, so potent “to witch the heart out of things -evil,” is either hereditary or contagious, for all of these little -folks are ready of tongue. The friends whom Mr. Cable left behind him, -in New Orleans, remember with regretful pleasure the delightful little -receptions which have now become a thing of the past. Sometimes, at -these gatherings, he would sing an old Scotch ballad, in his clear, -sweet tenor voice, or one of those quaint Creole songs that he has -since made famous on the lecture platform; or, again, he would read -a selection from “Dukesborough Tales”--one of his favorite humorous -works. Nothing was stereotyped or conventional, for Mr. Cable is, in -every aspect of life, a dangerous enemy of the common-place. But the -pleasant dwelling-place has passed into other hands; other voices -echo through the rooms; and Mr. Cable has found a new home in a more -invigorating climate. - -The highway leading from the town of Northampton, Mass., which one must -follow in order to find Mr. Cable’s house, has the aspect of a quiet -country road, but is, in reality, one of the streets of the city, with -underlying gas and water-pipes. It is studded with handsome dwellings, -some of brick and stone, others of simple frame-work--each with velvet -lawn shaded with spreading elms, and here and there a birch or pine. -The romancer’s house is the last at the edge of the town, on what -is fitly named the Paradise Road. It is a red brick building of two -stories and a half, with a vine-covered piazza; and the smooth-cut lawn -slopes gently down to the street, separated only from the sidewalk by -a stone coping. Above all things, one is conscious, on entering here, -of a sense of comfort and home happiness. The furniture is simple but -exceedingly tasteful, of light woods with little upholstery; and the -visitor finds an abundance of easy-chairs and settees of willow. The -study is a delightful nook, opening by sliding doors from the parlor on -one side and the hall on another. A handsome table of polished cherry, -usually strewn with books and papers, occupies the center of the room, -and, as in the old home, the walls are lined with book-shelves. A -large easy-chair, upon which the thoughtful wife insisted, when the -room was being fitted up, affords a welcome resting-place to the weary -author. Sometimes she lends her gentle presence to the spot, and sits -there, with her quiet needlework, while the story or lecture is in -the course of preparation. One of the charms of this sanctum is the -view from the two windows that extend nearly to the floor. From one -may be descried the blue and hazy line of the Hampshire hills, while -from the other one sees Mt. Holyoke and Mt. Tom uprearing their -stately heads to the sky. Sloping down from the carriage-drive which -passes it lies Paradise--a stretch of woods bordering Mill River. No -more appropriate name could be given it, for if magnificent trees, -beautiful flowers, green-clad hill and dell, and winding waters, and -above all, the perfect peace of nature, broken only by bird-notes, can -make a paradise, it is found in this corner of Northampton, itself -the loveliest of New England towns. Mr. Cable confesses that this -scene of enchantment is almost too distracting to the mind, and that, -when deeply engaged in composition, he finds it necessary to draw the -curtains. - -If the days in Mr. Cable’s home are delightful, the evenings are not -less charming. After the merry tea and the constitutional walk have -been taken, the family gather in the sitting-room. Usually, two or -three friends drop in; but if none come, the children are happy to -draw closely around their father, while he plays old-time songs or -Creole dances on his guitar. As he sings, one after another joins in, -and finally the day is ended with a hymn and the evening worship. The -hour is early, for the hard-working brain must have its full portion of -rest. It is one of Mr. Cable’s firm-rooted principles that the mind can -not do its best unless the body is well treated; and he gives careful -attention to all rules of health. Apart from the brilliant fact of his -genius, this is the secret of the evenness of his work. There is no -feverish energy weakening into feverish lassitude; it moves on without -haste, without rest. Mr. Cable well advised a young writer never to -publish anything but his best; and it is this principle, doubtless, -that has prevented him from thinking it necessary, as many English and -American authors seem to fancy, to turn out a certain amount of printed -matter every year. In addition to his literary labors, Mr. Cable is -frequently absent from home on reading and lecture engagements, and -great is the rejoicing of his family when they have him once more -among them. Mr. Cable’s place in literature is as unique as that of -Hawthorne. He is distinctively and above all things an American. He has -not found it necessary to cross the water in search of inspiration; and -he is the only American author of any prominence whose turn of mind has -never been influenced by the foreign classics. - -What Bret Harte has done for the stern angularity of Western life, -Mr. Cable has wrought, in infinitely finer and subtler lines, for -his soft-featured and passionate native land. Those who come after -him in delineation of Creole character can only be followers in his -footsteps, for to him alone belongs the credit of striking this new -vein, so rich in promise and fulfillment. An alien coming among them -would be as one who speaks a different language. He would be impressed -only by superficial peculiarities, and would chronicle them from this -standpoint. But Mr. Cable knows these people to their heart’s core; -he is saturated with their individuality and traditions; to him their -very inflection of voice, turn of the head, motion of the hands, is -eloquent with meaning. His work will endure because it is entirely -wholesome, and full of that “sanity of mind” which speaks with such a -strenuous voice to the mass of mankind. The writer who appeals from a -diseased imagination to an audience full of diseased and morbid tastes, -must necessarily have a small _clientèle_; for there are comparatively -few people, as balanced against the vast hordes of workers, who are so -satiated with the good things of this life that they must always seek -for some new sensation strong enough to blister their jaded palates. -The men and women who labor and endure desire after their day of toil -something that will cheer and refresh; and this will remain so as long -as health predominates over disease. - -The engraving in _The Century_ of February, 1882, has made the reading -public familiar with Mr. Cable’s features; but there is lacking the -lurking sparkle in the dark hazel eyes, and the curving of the lips -into a peculiarly winning smile. In person, Mr. Cable is small and -slight, with chestnut hair, beard and moustache; and there is a marked -development of the forehead above the eyebrows, supposed, by believers -in phrenology, to indicate unusual musical talent. On paper, it is hard -to express the charm of his individuality, or the pleasure of listening -to his sunny talk, with its quaint turns of thought and the felicitous -phrases that spring spontaneously to his lips. Those who have been -impressed by the deep humanity that made it possible for him to write -such a book as “Dr. Sevier,” will find the man and the author one and -indivisible. Nothing is forced, or uttered for the sake of making an -impression; and the listener may be sure that Mr. Cable is saying what -he thinks. The conscientiousness that enabled him to be a brave soldier -and an untiring business man, runs through his whole life; and he has -none of that moral cowardice which staves off an expression of opinion -with a falsely pleasant word. - - J. K. WETHERILL. - -[Eight years ago Mr. Cable left the house in Paradise Road for a -new Colonial house on “Dryad’s Green,” against a background of -pines,--“Tarryawhile,” with a cottage workshop of two rooms near -by.--EDITORS.] - - - - - S. L. CLEMENS (MARK TWAIN) - - - - - S. L. CLEMENS (MARK TWAIN) - - AT HARTFORD AND ELMIRA - - -The story of Mark Twain’s life has been told so often that it has -lost its novelty to many readers, though its romance has the quality -of permanence. But people to-day are more interested in the author -than they are in the printer, the pilot, the miner, or the reporter, -of twenty or thirty years ago. The editor of one of the most popular -American magazines once alluded to him as “the most widely read -person who writes in the English language.” More than half a million -copies of his books have been sold in this country. England and the -English colonies all over the world have taken at least half as many -in addition. His sketches and shorter articles have been published -in every language which is printed, and the larger books have been -translated into German, French, Italian, Norwegian, Danish, etc. He -is one of the few living men with a truly world-wide reputation. -Unless the excellent gentlemen who have been engaged in revising the -Scriptures should claim the authorship of their work, there is no other -living writer whose books are now so widely read as Mark Twain’s; -and it may not be out of the way to add that in more than one pious -household the “Innocents Abroad” is laid beside the family Bible, and -referred to as a hand-book of Holy Land description and narrative. - -Off the platform and out of his books, Mark Twain is Samuel L. -Clemens--a man who was born November 30, 1835. He is of a very -noticeable personal appearance, with his slender figure, his finely -shaped head, his thick, curling, very gray hair, his heavy arched -eyebrows, over dark gray eyes, and his sharply, but delicately, cut -features. Nobody is going to mistake him for any one else, and his -attempts to conceal his identity at various times have been comical -failures. In 1871 Mr. Clemens made his home in Hartford, and in some -parts of the world Hartford to-day is best known because it is his -home. He built a large and unique house in Nook Farm, on Farmington -Avenue, about a mile and a quarter from the old centre of the city. It -was the fancy of its designer to show what could be done with bricks -in building, and what effect of variety could be got by changing their -color, or the color of the mortar, or the angle at which they were -set. The result has been that a good many of the later houses built in -Hartford reflect in one way or another the influence of this one. In -their travels in Europe, Mr. and Mrs. Clemens have found various rich -antique pieces of household furniture, including a great wooden mantel -and chimney-piece, now in their library, taken from an English baronial -hall, and carved Venetian tables, bedsteads, and other pieces. These -add their peculiar charm to the interior of the house. The situation of -the building makes it very bright and cheerful. On the top floor is Mr. -Clemens’s own working-room. In one corner is his writing-table, covered -usually with books, manuscripts, letters, and other literary litter; -and in the middle of the room stands the billiard-table, upon which a -large part of the work of the place is expended. By strict attention to -this business, Mr. Clemens has become an expert in the game; and it is -part of his life in Hartford to get a number of friends together every -Friday for an evening of billiards. He even plans his necessary trips -away from home so as to get back in time to observe this established -custom. - -Mr. Clemens divides his year into two parts, which are not exactly for -work and play respectively, but which differ very much in the nature of -their occupations. From the first of June to the middle of September, -the whole family, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Clemens and their three -little girls, are at Elmira, N. Y. They live there with Mr. T. W. -Crane, whose wife is a sister of Mrs. Clemens. A summer-house has been -built for Mr. Clemens within the Crane grounds, on a high peak, which -stands six hundred feet above the valley that lies spread out before -it. The house is built almost entirely of glass, and is modeled exactly -on the plan of a Mississippi steamboat’s pilot-house. Here, shut off -from all outside communication, Mr. Clemens does the hard work of the -year, or rather the confining and engrossing work of writing, which -demands continuous application, day after day. The lofty work-room -is some distance from the house. He goes to it every morning about -half-past eight and stays there until called to dinner by the blowing -of a horn about five o’clock. He takes no lunch or noon meal of any -sort, and works without eating, while the rules are imperative not to -disturb him during this working period. His only recreation is his -cigar. He is an inveterate smoker, and smokes constantly while at his -work, and, indeed, all the time, from half-past eight in the morning to -half-past ten at night, stopping only when at his meals. A cigar lasts -him about forty minutes, now that he has reduced to an exact science -the art of reducing the weed to ashes. So he smokes from fifteen to -twenty cigars every day. Some time ago he was persuaded to stop the -practice, and actually went a year and more without tobacco; but he -found himself unable to carry along important work which he undertook, -and it was not until he resumed smoking that he could do it. Since then -his faith in his cigar has not wavered. Like other American smokers, -Mr. Clemens is unceasing in his search for the really satisfactory -cigar at a really satisfactory price, and, first and last, has gathered -a good deal of experience in the pursuit. It is related that, having -entertained a party of gentlemen one winter evening in Hartford, he -gave to each, just before they left the house, one of a new sort of -cigar that he was trying to believe was the object of his search. He -made each guest light it before starting. The next morning he found all -that he had given away lying on the snow beside the pathway across his -lawn. Each smoker had been polite enough to smoke until he got out of -the house, but every one, on gaining his liberty, had yielded to the -instinct of self-preservation and tossed the cigar away, forgetting -that it would be found there by daylight. The testimony of the next -morning was overwhelming, and the verdict against the new brand was -accepted. - -At Elmira, Mr. Clemens works hard. He puts together there whatever -may have been in his thoughts and recorded in his note-books during -the rest of the year. It is his time of completing work begun, and -of putting into definite shape what have been suggestions and -possibilities. It is not his literary habit, however, to carry one -line of work through from beginning to end before taking up the next. -Instead of that, he has always a number of schemes and projects going -along at the same time, and he follows first one and then another, -according as his mood inclines him. Nor do his productions come before -the public always as soon as they are completed. He has been known -to keep a book on hand for five years, after it was finished. But -while the life at Elmira is in the main seclusive and systematically -industrious, that at Hartford, to which he returns in September, is -full of variety and entertainment. His time is then less restricted, -and he gives himself freely to the enjoyment of social life. He -entertains many friends, and his hospitable house, seldom without a -guest, is one of the literary centers of the city. Mr. Howells is -a frequent visitor, as Bayard Taylor used to be. Cable, Aldrich, -Henry Irving, Stanley, and many others of wide reputation, have been -entertained there. The next house to Mr. Clemens’s on the south is -Charles Dudley Warner’s home, and the next on the east is Mrs. Stowe’s, -so that the most famous three writers in Hartford live within a stone’s -throw of each other. - -At Hartford Mr. Clemens’s hours of occupation are less systematized, -but he is no idler there. At some times he shuts himself in his -working-room and declines to be interrupted on any account, though -there are not wanting some among his expert billiard-playing friends -to insist that this seclusion is merely to practice uninterruptedly -while they are otherwise engaged. Certainly he is a skillful player. -He keeps a pair of horses, and rides more or less in his carriage, but -does not drive, or ride on horseback. He is, however, an adept upon -the bicycle. He has made its conquest a study, and has taken, and also -experienced, great pains with the work. On his bicycle he travels a -great deal, and he is also an indefatigable pedestrian, taking long -walks across country, frequently in the company of his friend the Rev. -Joseph H. Twichell, at whose church (Congregational) he is a pew-holder -and regular attendant. For years past he has been an industrious and -extensive reader and student in the broad field of general culture. He -has a large library and a real familiarity with it, extending beyond -our own language into the literatures of Germany and France. He seems -to have been fully conscious of the obligations which the successful -opening of his literary career laid upon him, and to have lived up to -its opportunities by a conscientious and continuous course of reading -and study which supplements the large knowledge of human nature that -the vicissitudes of his early life brought with them. His resources -are not of the exhaustible sort. He is a member of (among other social -organizations) the Monday Evening Club of Hartford, that was founded -nearly twenty years ago by the Rev. Dr. Bushnell, Dr. Henry, and Dr. -J. Hammond Trumbull, and others, with a membership limited to twenty. -The club meets on alternate Monday evenings from October to May in -the houses of the members. One person reads a paper and the others -then discuss it; and Mr. Clemens’s talks there, as well as his daily -conversation among friends, amply demonstrate the spontaneity and -naturalness of his irrepressible humor. - -His inventions are not to be overlooked in any attempt to outline his -life and its activities. “Mark Twain’s Scrap-Book” must be pretty well -known by this time, for something like 100,000 copies of it have been -sold yearly for ten years or more. As he wanted a scrap-book, and could -not find what he wanted, he made one himself, which naturally proved to -be just what other people wanted. Similarly, he invented a note-book. -It is his habit to record at the moment they occur to him such scenes -and ideas as he wishes to preserve. All note-books that he could buy -had the vicious habit of opening at the wrong place and distracting -attention in that way. So, by a simple contrivance, he arranged one -that always opens at the right place; that is, of course, at the page -last written upon. Other simple inventions by Mark Twain include a vest -which enables the wearer to dispense with suspenders; a shirt, with -collars and cuffs attached, which requires neither buttons nor studs; -a perpetual-calendar watch-charm, which gives the day of the week and -of the month; and a game whereby people may play historical dates and -events upon a board, somewhat after the manner of cribbage, being a -game whose office is twofold--to furnish the dates and events, and to -impress them permanently upon the memory. - -In 1885 Mark Twain and George W. Cable made a general tour of the -country, each giving readings from his own works: and they had crowded -houses and most cordial receptions. It was not a new sort of occupation -for Mark Twain. Back in the early days, before his first book appeared, -he delivered lectures in the Pacific States. His powers of elocution -are remarkable, and he has long been considered by his friends one of -the most satisfactory and enjoyable readers of their acquaintance. His -parlor-reading of Shakspeare and Browning is described as a masterly -performance. He has hitherto refused to undertake any general course of -public reading, though very strong inducements have been offered to him -to go to the distant English colonies, even as far as Australia. - - CHARLES HOPKINS CLARK. - -[After the failure of the firm of Charles L. Webster & Co., of which -he was a member, Mr. Clemens accomplished the Herculean task of -discharging debts not legally his, by a lecture tour in this country -and in Australia. On his return home, he was met in England by the -sad news of the sudden death of his eldest daughter. After four more -years in Europe, for the most part in Vienna, he came back to this -country. The Hartford home was left unoccupied, partly on account of -sad associations, and the family spent the winter in New York. They -then leased a house at Riverdale on the Hudson, from where they will -move to the new home at Tarrytown which Mr. Clemens has recently -bought.--EDITORS.] - - [Illustration] - - - - - GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS - - - - - GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS - - AT WEST NEW BRIGHTON - - -It is not noticed that the most determined fighters, both in battle and -on the field of public affairs, are often the gentlest, most peaceable -men in private converse and at home. The public was for a long time -accustomed to regard Mr. Curtis as a combatant; but many who know of -him in that character would have been surprised could they have met him -in the quiet study on Staten Island, where his work was done. - -A calm, solid figure, of fine height and impressive carriage, a -moderately ruddy complexion, with snowy side-whiskers, and gray -hair parted at the crown, gave him somewhat the appearance that we -conventionally ascribe to English country gentlemen. There was an air -of repose about the surroundings and the occupant of the room where he -worked. Over the door hung a mellowed and rarely excellent copy of the -Stratford portrait of Shakspeare; shelves filled with books--the dumb -yet resistless artillery of literature--were placed in all the spaces -between the three windows; and other books and pamphlets--the small -arms and equipments--covered a part of the ample table. A soft-coal -fire in the grate threw out intermittently its broad, genial flame, as -if inspired to illumination by the gaze of Emerson, or Daniel Webster, -or the presence of blind Homer, whose busts were in an opposite corner. -Altogether, the spot seemed very remote from all loud conflicts of -the time. There was none of that confusion, that tempestuous disarray -of newspapers, common in the workshops of editors. Yet an examination -of the new books and documents which lay before him would show that -Mr. Curtis established here a sluice-way through which was drawn a -current of our chief literature and politics; and some of the lines -in his massive lower face indicated the resoluteness which underlay -his natural urbanity and kindness. Although his father came from -Massachusetts and he himself was born in Providence, Mr. Curtis was -identified with New York. In 1839, at the age of fifteen, he moved -with his father to this city. Three years later he enlisted with the -Brook Farm enthusiasts, but in 1844 withdrew to Concord, as Hawthorne -had done. There, with his brother, he worked at farming, and continued -to study until 1846, when he came back to New York, still bent upon -preparing himself for a literary life, though he chose not to go to -college. He went, instead, to Europe, remaining there and in the East -for four years, six months of which he spent as a student at the -University of Berlin. - -Bringing home copious materials for the work, he wrote the “Nile Notes -of a Howadji,” which the Harpers promptly accepted and published in -1851, the author being then twenty-seven. It is interesting to observe -that he never went through that period of struggle to which most young -writers must submit; a fact presaging the almost unbroken success of -his later career. His other two books of travel appeared the next year, -and at the same time he began to divide with Donald G. Mitchell the -writing of the “Easy Chair” in _Harper’s Monthly_, which he afterward -took wholly upon himself and continued until his death. His connection -with _Harper’s Weekly_ began in 1857, and for six years he supplied a -series of papers entitled “The Lounger” to that periodical. In 1863 he -became its political editor. Meanwhile he had published “The Potiphar -Papers,” the one successful satire on social New York since Irving’s -“Salmagundi”; also “Prue and I,” and “Trumps,” his only attempt at a -novel. This, too, treats of New York life. Finally he married, in 1856, -and settled on Staten Island, where he lived until he died in 1892, in -a house only a few rods distant from that in which he was married. - -Yet, New Yorker as he was by long association, residence and interest, -he had a close relationship with Massachusetts; partly through his -marriage into a Massachusetts family of note--the Shaws; partly, -perhaps, through the ties formed in those idyllic days at Brook Farm -and Concord. And in Massachusetts he had another home, at Ashfield, -to which he repaired every summer. It is an old farm-house on the -outskirts of the village, which lies among beautiful maple-clad -hills, between the Berkshire valley and the picturesque neighborhood -of the Deerfields and Northampton. A number of years ago, with his -friend Charles Eliot Norton, Mr. Curtis aided in founding a library -for Ashfield, and he was so much of a favorite with his neighbors -there, that they were anxious to make him their representative in -Congress. He, however, seemed to prefer their friendship, and the -glorious colors of their autumn woods, to their votes. Throughout the -greater part of the fierce presidential campaign of 1884 Mr. Curtis -conducted his voluminous work as editor and as independent chieftain -in this quiet retreat. In 1875 it was to him that Concord turned when -seeking an orator for the centenary of her famous “Fight”; and it was -he again whom Boston, in the spring of 1883, invited to pronounce the -eulogy upon Wendell Phillips. These are rather striking instances of -Massachusetts dependence on a New York author and orator, discrepant -from a theory which makes the dependence all the other way. - -But Mr. Curtis long since gained national reputation as a lecturer. -His first venture in that line was “Contemporary Art in Europe,” in -1851; then he fairly got under way with “The Age of Steam,” and soon -became one of that remarkable group, including Starr King, Phillips -and Beecher, who built up the lyceum into an important institution, -and went all over the country lecturing. Mr. Curtis gave lectures -every winter until 1872. I remember his saying, some time before -that, “I have to write and deliver at least one sermon a year”; and -indeed they _were_ sermons, of the most eloquent kind, rife with noble -incitements to duty, patriotism, lofty thought, ideal conduct. In -1859, at Philadelphia, having long before engaged to speak on “The -Present State of the Anti-Slavery Question,” he was told that it would -not be allowed. Many people entreated him not to attempt it; but, -while disclaiming any wish to create disturbance or to be martyred, -he stated that he found himself forced to represent the principle of -free speech, and that nothing could induce him to shrink from upholding -it. Accordingly he began his lecture from a platform guarded by double -rows of police. A tumult was raised in the hall, and a mob attacked -the building simultaneously from without, intending to seize the -speaker and hang him. For twenty minutes he waited silently, while -vitriol-bottles and brick-bats were showered through the windows, and -the police fought the rioters in both hall and street. The disturbance -quelled, he went on for an hour, saying all that he had to say, amid -alternate hisses and applause, and with the added emphasis of missiles -from lingering rioters smashing the window glass. Is it surprising that -this man should have the courage to rise and shout out a solitary “No,” -against the hundreds of a State convention, or that he should have -dared to “bolt” the Presidential nomination of his party, in spite of -jeers and sneers and cries of treachery? - -Mr. Curtis’s adversaries, in whatever else they may have been right, -were apt to make two serious mistakes about him. One was, that -they considered him a dilettante in politics; the other, that they -overlooked his “staying-power.” For over thirty-four years he not only -closely studied and wrote upon our politics, but he also took an active -share in them. - -For twenty-five years he was the chairman of a local Republican -committee; he made campaign speeches; he sat in conventions; he -influenced thousands of votes. Moreover, his views triumphed. They -did so in the anti-slavery cause; they did so in the Civil Service -Reform movement, and in the Independent movement of 1884. Surely that -is not the record of a dilettante. He never pulled wires, nor did he -seek office; that is all. Once he ran for Congress in a Democratic -district, sure of defeat, but wishing to have a better chance, as -candidate, for speech-making. He took the chairmanship of the Civil -Service Advisory Board as an imperative duty, and resigned it as soon -as he saw its futility under President Grant’s rule. Seward wanted to -make him Consul-General in Egypt; Mr. Hayes offered him the mission -to England, and again that to Germany; but he refused each one. His -only political ambition was to instil sound principles, and to oppose -practical _patriotism_ to “practical politics.” Honorary distinctions -he was willing to accept, in another field. He was an LL.D. of Harvard, -Brown and Madison universities; and in 1864 he was appointed a Regent -of the University of New York, in the line of succession to John Jay, -Chancellor Kent and Gulian Verplanck. This, it seems to me, was a -very fit association, for Mr. Curtis was attached by his qualities of -integrity and refinement to the best representatives of New York. The -idea often occurs to one, that he, more than any one else, continued -the example which Washington Irving set; an example of kindliness and -good-nature blended with indestructible dignity, and of a delicately -imaginative mind consecrating much of its energy to public service. - -A teacher of a true State policy, rather than a statesman--an -inspiring leader, more than he was an organizer or executant--he yet -did much hard work in organizing, and tried to perpetuate the desirable -tradition that culture should be joined to questions of right in -Government, and of the popular weal. Twenty years a lecturer, without -rest; twenty-five years a political editor; thirty-six years the suave -and genial occupant of the “Easy Chair”; always steadfast to the -highest aims, and ignoring unworthy slurs;--may we not say reasonably -that he had “staying power”? One source of it was to be found in the -serene cheer of his family life in that Staten Island cottage to which -he clung so closely, and among the well-loved Ashfield hills, where he -long continued to show that power. - - GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP. - - - - - DR. EDWARD EGGLESTON - - - - - DR. EDWARD EGGLESTON - - AT LAKE GEORGE - - -Owl’s Nest, the summer retreat of Dr. Edward Eggleston, is -picturesquely situated on Dunham’s Bay, an arm of Lake George that -deeply indents the land on the southeastern shore of the lake. This -site was chosen partly because the land hereabout is owned by his -son-in-law, and partly because of the seclusion the place affords -from the main current of summer business and travel. With the utmost -freedom of choice, a spot better suited to the needs of a literary -worker with a family could hardly have been selected within the -entire thirty-six miles covering the length of Lake George. Here, a -few years ago, among black rocks, green woods, and blue waters, all -pervaded by the breath of balsam, cedar, and pine, the author of “The -Hoosier Schoolmaster,” after various flights to other northern places -of resort, built the nest which he has since continued to occupy -during six months of the year (with the exception of one year spent -abroad), and in which he does the better part of his literary work, -with material about him prepared at his winter home in Brooklyn. -Owl’s Nest (doubtless jocosely so-called because of the utter absence -from it of everything owlish) consists of three architecturally unique -and tasteful buildings, occupying a natural prominence on the western -shore of the bay. One, the family cottage, is a handsome-looking and -commodious structure of wood, liberally furnished in a manner becoming -the artistic and literary proclivities of its occupants. A little -below this, to the right, and nearer the lake shore, is a summer -boarding-house, built by the owner of the farm for the accommodation -of the friends and admirers of Dr. Eggleston, who annually follow -his flight into the country--so impossible, as it would seem, is -it to escape the consequences of fame. The third and most striking -structure upon the grounds is Dr. Eggleston’s workshop and library--his -lasting and peculiar mark on the shores of Lake George, and the most -prominent and elaborate piece of work of its kind to be found anywhere -in northern New York. This was laid out by a Springfield, Mass., -architect, after plans of the proprietor’s own. It is built of brown -sandstone quarried on the spot, and laid by local stone-workers, -finished in native chestnut and cherry by home mechanics, and decorated -without with designs, and within with carvings, by the hand of the -author’s artist-daughter, Allegra. Thus are secured for it at once a -sturdy native character of its own, and a sylvan harmony and grace -most pleasing to the fancy. Within this stronghold are arranged in -due order the weapons of the literary champion--historian, novelist, -and essayist--as well as the tools of his daughter, who has long -been working in conjunction with her father in the production of the -illustrated novel, “The Graysons,” given to the world in 1888. - -It is into this stronghold that one is conducted on a Sunday afternoon, -after the usual hearty hand-shake; especially if one’s visit relates in -any way to things literary, or to questions that are easiest settled -in an atmosphere of books. You are led through a door opening at the -rear of the building, toward the cottage; immediately opposite to -which, upon entering, appears the entrance to the artist’s studio; -thence along a narrow passage traversing the length of the west wall -and lined to the ceiling with books, through a doorway concealed by a -pair of heavy dropping curtains, and into the author’s study, occupying -the south end of the building. Here you are seated in a soft chair -beside a deep, red brick fireplace (adorned with andirons and other -appurtenances of ancient pattern, captured from some old colonial -mansion), and before a modern bay-window opening to the south. - -This window is, structurally, the chief glory and ornament of Dr. -Eggleston’s study--broad, deep, and high, filling fully one-third of -the wall-space in the south end, and so letting into the room, as it -were, a good portion of all out-doors. From this window is obtained a -charming view of the finest points in the surrounding scenery. Directly -in front stretches out for miles to the southward a broad expanse of -marsh, through which winds in sinuous curves a sluggish creek that ends -its idling course where the line of blue water meets the rank green of -the swale. Just here extends from shore to shore a long causeway of -stone and timber, over which runs the highway through the neighborhood. -Flanking the morass on each side are two parallel lines of mountains, -looking blue and hazy and serene on a still day, but marvelously -savage and wild and threatening when a storm is raging. These are, -respectively, the French Mountain spur on the west; and on the east a -long chain of high peaks, which begins with the Sugar Loaf, three miles -inland, approaches the eastern shore, and forms with the grand peaks of -Black, Buck and Finch mountains a magnificent border to the lake as far -down as the Narrows, where it terminates in the bold and picturesque -rock of Tongue Mountain. - -This view constitutes almost the whole outlook from the spot, which -is otherwise encroached upon by an intricate tangle of untamed -nature--woods, cliffs and ravines, that back it up on the west, and -flank it on either side down to the water’s edge. Turning from the view -of things outside to consider the things within, you find yourself, -apart from the necessary furniture of the room, walled in by books, to -apparently interminable heights and lengths. I think Dr. Eggleston told -me he has here something like four thousand volumes, perhaps one-fourth -of which may be classed as general literature; the rest being volumes -old and new, of ever conceivable date, style and condition, bearing -upon the subject of colonial history. These have been gathered at -immense pains from the libraries and bookstalls of Europe and America. -In his special field of work Dr. Eggleston long ago proved himself a -profound student and a thorough and successful operator. But if books -tire you, there is at hand a most interesting collection of souvenirs -of foreign travel--pictures, casts, quaint manuscripts, etc.--besides -rare autographs, curios, and relics of every sort, gathered from -everywhere, all of which he shows you with every effort and desire to -entertain. In common with other distinguished persons, Dr. Eggleston -has undergone persecution by the inveterate collector of autographs. -One claimant for a specimen of his penmanship, writing from somewhere -in the Dominion, solicited a “few lines” to adorn his album withal; -whereupon he went to his desk and, taking a blank sheet, drew with pen -and ink two parallel black lines across it, added his signature, and -mailed it promptly to the enclosed address. - -The work upon which Dr. Eggleston is engaged (“Life in the Thirteen -Colonies”) has already occupied him over six years, and he estimates -that it will be nearly six years more ere it is completed. Chapters -of it have been appearing from time to time, during its composition, -in _The Century_ magazine; and the first completed volume is now -in the possession of The Century Co. for early publication. It is -distinctively a history of the people in their struggle for empire; -recording to the minutest details their public and domestic life and -affairs, treating exhaustively of their manners, customs, politics, -wars, religion, manufactures, and agriculture, showing in what they -failed and in what succeeded. All this is wrought out in a vivid -style, and possesses the interest and vigor of a romance. This has -been his chief work. Otherwise he has contributed to the periodicals -a large number of essays, short stories, etc., and has lately (by way -of recreation) prepared a youth’s history of the American settlements, -for school use. His working-hours are from eight in the morning till -two in the afternoon, during which time he sticks to his desk, where -he is to be found every day except Sunday, apparently hopelessly -entangled in a thicket of notes and references, in manuscript and in -print, which besets him on all sides. But to the worker there, each -stack is a trusted tool on which he lays his hand unerringly when it -is wanted. He has perfected a system of note-making which reduces -the labor of reference to a minimum, while a type-writer performs -for him the mechanical part of the work. His afternoons are given to -socialities and recreation. His four little grandchildren come in for -a large share of his leisure time; and it is a good thing to see them -all rolling together on the study floor and making the place ring with -their merriment. - -I have seen in one of the older anthologies a poem entitled “The -Helper,” of which I remember these words: - - “There was a man, a prince among his kind, - And he was called the Helper.” - -These verses, ever since I read them, have had a certain fascination -for me. There is that in them suggestive of the flavor of rare old -wine. There are helpers and helpers, from some types of which we pray -evermore to be delivered. But there are the true, the born helpers, -whom those in need of effectual advice and furtherance should as -heartily pray to fall into the way of. These last do not always appear -duly classified, labeled and shelved, to be taken down in answer to -all trivial and promiscuous complaints, since, as has been noted, the -true helper always proceeds, not by system, but by instinct, which -through practice becomes in him unerring, and sufficient to guide -him without stumbling. Such a helper is Edward Eggleston. He is a -philanthropist who exists chiefly for the sake of doing good to his -fellows, and who grows fat in doing it. It is a destiny from which he -can not escape, and would not if he could. - -One who observes much has often to deplore the absence from our modern -life and institutions of any sphere large enough for the exercise and -display of the full sum of the powers and faculties of any of our -recent or contemporary great men of the people. Compare one of our -most gifted men with the stage upon which he is compelled to act, -and the disproportion is startling. How much that is above price is -thus lost beyond recovery, and often how little we get from such -beyond the results of some special popular talent, perhaps itself not -representative of the strongest faculties of the person. I first got -acquainted with Dr. Eggleston through his novels “The Circuit Rider” -and “Roxy,” and being then in the novel-reading phase of intellectual -development, I of course believed them unrivaled in contemporary -literature, as they fairly are of their kind. My enthusiasm lasted till -I heard him preach from the pulpit, and straightway my admiration -for the writer was lost in astonishment at the preacher. Never had I -heard such sermons; and I still believe I never have. But upon closer -acquaintance, my astonishment at the preacher was swallowed up in -wonder at the conversational powers of my new friend. Never had I heard -such a talker--never have I heard such a one. But the best unveiling -was the last, when I discovered under all these multifarious aspects -the characteristics and attributes of a born philanthropist. Hitherto I -had known only the writer, the preacher, and the talker; now I began to -know the man. - -In Paris, London, Venice, Florence, in the remote towns and villages -of England and the Continent, wherever it has been the fortune of Dr. -Eggleston to pitch his tent for a season, his domicile has everywhere -been known and frequented by those in need of spiritual or material -comfort; and few of such have ever had occasion to complain of failure -in getting their reasonable wants satisfied. In these dispensations -he has the warmest encouragement and support of Mrs. Eggleston and -their daughters, by whom these beautiful and humane traits are fully -shared. I once expressed my wonder as to how, amidst the severest -professional labors, he could stand so much of this extraneous work, -without detriment to his constitution. “What! do you call that -work?” was the characteristic answer. Fortunately a splendid physique -defeats the ill-effects that would seem inevitable. And indeed every -literary man should possess the nerves of a farmer and the physique -of a prize-fighter as a natural basis of success. Dr. Eggleston is a -good sailor and an expert climber, and with these accomplishments, and -a perpetually cheerful humor, he manages to keep his body in trim. He -can row you out to Joshua’s Rock, or to Caldwell, if that lies in your -way; or lead you with unerring precision through tangled labyrinths, -to visit the choice nooks and scenes of the neighborhood, such as the -lovely Paradise, the dark Inferno, and the mysterious Dark Brook. - -There is something broadly and deeply elemental in Dr. Eggleston’s -joyous appreciation of nature, his touching love of little children, -and his insight into the springs of animal life. His home habits -are simple and beautiful, abounding in all the Christian graces, -courtesies, and cordialities which help to maintain the ideal -household. Everybody knows something of his personal appearance, if -not by sight, then by report--the great bulk of frame, the large -leonine head, now slightly grizzled, the deep, sharp, kindly eyes, -the movements deliberate but not slow; and more, perhaps, of his -conversation--precise, rapid, multifarious, swarming with ideas and -the suggestions of things which the rapidity of his utterance prevents -him from elaborating--original, opulent of forms, rich in quotation and -allusion. And then the laugh--vast, inspiriting, uplifting. But there -is such a thing as friendship becoming too friendly! - - O. C. AURINGER. - -[Nearly a third of Dr. Eggleston’s mature life has been covered by -the period since this article was written, and during this period his -most finished literary work has been produced. “The Faith Doctor,” -his last novel, was published in 1891; a few years later two school -readers for young children, “Stories of American Life and Adventure” -and “Stories of Great Americans for Little Americans” appeared. These -books the author estimates highly. In 1899 “The Beginners of a Nation” -was published, and in 1901 “The Transit of Civilization,”--the crowning -labor of his life and the outcome of historical researches which he -has been carrying on for twenty years. The year just past has been -devoted to the preparation of a new school history of the United -States. Dr. Eggleston’s health is unstable, and he may not continue -his writing, but he has in contemplation a volume relating to life in -the United States in the seventeenth century, and also a somewhat -autobiographical work, not so much concerning himself as phases of life -that he has seen.--EDITORS.] - - - - - EDWARD EVERETT HALE - - - - - EDWARD EVERETT HALE - - ON ROXBURY HEIGHTS, BOSTON - - -The pulpit of Boston--what a fellowship of goodly names the phrase -recalls! Knotty old stub-twist Cotton Mather, - - “With his wonderful inkhorn at his side”; - -saintly Ellery Channing; courtly Edward Everett; soaring Emerson; -sledge-hammer Beecher, _père_; Parker, the New England Luther; -golden-mouthed Starr King; mystic, Oriental Weiss; Freeman -Clarke--steady old “Saint James”; Father Taylor, the Only; quaint, -erratic Bartol, the last of the Transcendentalists; impetuous Phillips -Brooks; and manly, practical Everett Hale. Can you measure the light -they have spread around--its range, its brilliancy? The Christian -pulpit of Boston has been a diadem of light to half the world. It -has been distinctively not an ecclesiastical, but a patriotic, -educational, and intellectual force. Yet, out of the whole cluster -of preacher-authors, one can strictly claim for literature only -our American Kingsley--Edward Everett Hale. It is not so much by -warrant of his studies in Spanish history that we class him among the -_literati_--although in some degree he has proved the successor of -Prescott in this field, and has lately prepared “The Story of Spain” -for Putnam’s Nations Series; but it is in virtue of his novels, his -help-stories for young folks, and his books of travel. - -Mr. Hale’s home is in Roxbury (the “Highland” region), five-minutes’ -ride, by steam car, from the heart of Boston. “Rocksbury,” as it was -spelled in the old documents, is a rocky and craggy place, as its -name indicates. If you are curious to know where the rocks came from, -just turn to Dr. Holmes’s “Dorchester Giant,” and read about that -plum-pudding, as big as the State House dome, which was demolished by -the giant’s wife and screaming boys: - - “They flung it over to Roxbury hills, - They flung it over the plain, - And all over Milton and Dorchester too - Great lumps of pudding the giants threw; - They tumbled as thick as rain.” - -Speaking of rocks, there is still to be seen, hardly a stone’s-throw -beyond Mr. Hale’s residence, a natural Cyclopean wall--sheer, somber, -Dantesque, overgrown with wilding shrubs, the rocks cramped and locked -together in the joints and interspaces by the contorted roots of huge -black and scarlet oaks, which, directly they emerge from the almost -perpendicular cliff, turn and shoot straight up toward the zenith. On -the summit of these rocks is the Garrison residence, presented to the -anti-slavery agitator by his admirers, and now the home of his son, -Mr. Francis J. Garrison. Other neighbors of Mr. Hale are William Lloyd -Garrison, Jr., and the venerable Charles K. Dillaway, President of -the Boston Latin School Association, and master of the school fifty -years ago, when young Hale was conjugating his τύπτω τύφω on its old -teetering settees. Mr. Dillaway bears his years well, and recently -celebrated his golden wedding. They have a well-combed and fruity -look, these old walled and terraced lawns and gardens of steep Roxbury -Height. In the Loring, the Hallowell, and the Auchmuty houses, and in -Shirley Hall, there yet remain traces of the slave-holding Puritan -aristocracy of two centuries ago. The Hale residence, by its old-time -hugeness and architectural style, seems as if it ought to be storied -in a double sense; but it really has no history other than that which -its present occupant is giving it. It is none too large for one who -has seen grow up in it a family of five sons and a daughter,--none too -large (if one may judge from the plethoric library) for its owner’s -ever-growing collection of books and manuscripts. The house, which is -of a cream color with salmon facings, is set back from the street some -fifty feet, affording a small front lawn, divided from the sidewalk -by a row of trees. The second-story front windows are beneath the -roof of the great Doric porch, and between the pillars of this porch -clamber the five-leaved woodbine and the broad-leaved aristolochia, or -Dutchman’s pipe. It is characteristic of Mr. Hale that he supports in -his Roxbury home an old, an almost decrepit man-servant, who has lived -with him for half a lifetime, and may be, for all I know, the original -of “My Double.” A picture of this “Old Retainer” was exhibited by Mr. -Hale’s daughter this year in the Paris Salon, over the title of “A New -England Winter.” I may, perhaps, be pardoned for mentioning, in this -connection, that Mrs. Hale is, on the mother’s side, a Beecher--the -niece of Henry Ward Beecher--and inherits the moral enthusiasm of that -religious family. - -To return to Mr. Hale. As for his library, it may be said that, like -his own exterior, his thinking-shop is plain and little adorned. It -is his nacre shell lined with the fair pearl of his thought. The room -is just back of one of the large front drawing-rooms, and “gives” -upon a little _cul-de-sac_ of a side-street. It is a small room, and -is crammed with plain bookshelves and cases of drawers. In this room -most of Mr. Hale’s writing is done. He has a good collection of books -and maps relating to Spanish-American subjects. Among these is a -_fac-simile_ of Cortez’s autograph map of Lower California, made for -Mr. Hale by order of the Spanish Government from the original copy -preserved in the national archives. - -Mr. Hale being, by his own frequent confessions, the most terribly -be-bored man in the universe, and having always had a hankering after -Sybaritic islands where map-peddlers, book agents, and pious beggars -might never mark his flight to do him wrong, it seemed providential, -in a twofold sense, that a wealthy friend in Roger Williams’s city, -the writer of a work on the labor question, should have carried out -the brilliant idea of building the hard-worked author a summer retreat -in the soft sea-air of Rhode Island. For the dreary romance of the -Newport region--its vast, warm, obliterating Gulf Stream fogs, and the -crusty lichens that riot and wax fat in the moisty strength thereof, -the warm tints of rock and sky, naiad caves and tangled wrack and -shell, and reveries by fire of flotage wood--you must peep into Colonel -Higginson’s “Oldport Days” or Mr. Hale’s “Christmas in Narragansett.” -The latter book is full of charming description and autobiographical -chit-chat. Manuntuck, where for twelve years the Hales have summered, -is a little hamlet to the south of Newport and far down on the opposite -side of the bay. It is six or eight miles from anywhere; it is almost -at the jumping-off point; if the organizer of charities gets there, he -will either have to walk or hire a team. The real southern limit of -New England, according to Mr. Hale, is formed by a certain “long comb -of little hills, of which the ends are gray stones separate from each -other.” On a high ridge of these hills is Colonel Ingham’s cottage. -In front of the house is the geological beach, about a mile and a -half wide. In good weather Montauk Point--the end of Long Island--is -visible, as is also Gay’s Head on Martha’s Vineyard. Just back of the -house is a lovely lake, and further back are other lakes bordered -by swamps filled with pink and white rhododendrons, and many plants -interesting to botanists. It is the region dwelt in of old by the -Narragansett Indians. The swamp where in 1675 the great battle was -fought is not far away. The Indians called the region Pettaquamscut. - -Mr. Hale is not reserved about himself in his books. But in his -fictitious writings you must beware of taking him too literally. He -hates to wear his heart upon his sleeve. When you imagine that at -last he is standing before you _in propriâ personâ_--whish! he claps -on his magic cap, with a thimbleful of fern-seed sewed in it, and -fades from your sight or recognition. He has recently told us of his -habits of work, and how he sleeps and eats. What he says goes far -toward explaining how he can throw off such amazing quantities of -work. A man who eats five times a day, sleeps nine hours (including, -with tolerable regularity, an hour after dinner), and takes plenty -of out-door exercise, can perform as much as half a dozen dyspeptic, -half-starved night-moths. Mr. Hale, it seems, does his writing and -thinking in the lump, working his way regularly by a dead lift of -three hours a day--inclusive, often, of a half or a full hour’s bout -before breakfast--the early work based upon a _Frühstück_ of coffee -and biscuit. Another secret of his power to produce work is his habit -of getting others, especially young people, to work for him. For at -least thirteen years he has employed an amanuensis for a part of his -writings. If he wishes to edit, in compact shape, certain hearty and -relishing old narratives, he sets his young friends to reading for him, -and by their joint labors the work is done. His “Family Flight” series -of travels (which we are given to understand has been quite successful) -is the joint work of himself and his traveled sister. In short, he -takes all the help he can get, printed or personal, for whatever -writing he has on hand. Mr. Hale takes his exercise chiefly by walking, -or in the horse-cars, as business or professional duty calls him hither -and thither. As a hunger-producer the average suburban horse-car line -of Boston is scarcely excelled by a corduroy road or a mud avenue of -New Orleans; and the bracing sea-air of the Boston Highlands adds its -whet and stimulant. - -When a young man of eighteen, Hale had the same fluent speech, the -same gift of telling, impromptu oratory, that makes him to-day so much -sought after as the spokesman of this cause and that. He likes to be -at a meeting of the Massachusetts Historical Society, or the Oriental -Society at Worcester, but finds it not profitable or possible regularly -to attend clubs or ministers’ meetings. Like the two earthenware pots -floating down the stream of Æsop’s fable, there are in Mr. Hale’s -nature two clashing master-traits--the social, humanitarian, and -democratic instinct, and the dignified reserve and exclusiveness of the -Edward Everett strain in his blood. He is a tremendous social magnet -turning now its attracting and now its repelling pole to the world; -to-day bringing comfort and hope to a score of drowning wretches, and -to-morrow barricading himself in his study and sending off to the -printer passionate and humorous invectives against the ineffable brood -of the world’s bores. It is naturally, therefore, a rather formidable -matter for a stranger to get access to the penetralia of the Roxbury -mansion. - -A certain lady friend of Mr. Hale’s was much disturbed by the above -statement when it first appeared in _The Critic_. She affirms that -the Doctor is a very approachable man. The following quotation from a -letter of her niece (who, out of friendship for Mr. Hale, gives part -of her time to helping him in his work) certainly seems irrefutable -testimony in her favor:--“I was at Mr. Hale’s to-day from eleven to -one o’clock. He receives an immense number of letters on all sorts of -subjects, particularly charity undertakings, and we register them for -him (I with three other girls) in a blank-book, so that he can refer -to them at any time. He is very methodical; he is, indeed, a wonderful -man, and you can realize the vast amount of work he does, by sitting -an hour in the room with him and hearing ring after ring at the front -door. One man wants a place as coachman; then comes a woman wishing -a letter of introduction; and I could fill a page with the different -requests, all listened to with so much patience, and immediately -attended to.” Yet I know of a man who called five times in the vain -endeavor to see Mr. Hale and get him to marry him. At last, in his -despair, he went to a friend of the “Colonel’s,” a lady who bravely -volunteered to storm the castle in the prospective bridegroom’s behalf. -She effected her object by calling with the couple at six o’clock in -the morning, yet felt sure she got a masterly beshrewing for her pains! - -Mr. Hale’s plain dressing is said to be something of a grievance -to certain well-meaning members of his congregation, but it is an -indispensable part of his personality, and is, I doubt not, adopted -for moral example as much as from inherent dislike of show and sham. -I have a picture in my mind now of Mr. Hale as I saw him crossing the -Harvard College yard, one Commencement Day, in a by-no-means glossy -suit of black, and wearing the inevitable soft slouch hat. A work-worn, -weary, and stooping figure it was, the body slightly bent, as if from -supporting such a weight of head. There are certain photographs of Hale -in which I see the powerful profile of Huntington, the builder of the -Central Pacific Railroad. - -Mr. Hale believes in the American people most heartily, and holds -them to have been always in advance of their political leaders. He -is full of plans for social betterments and the discomfiture of the -devil’s regiments of the line. In fact he has too much of this kind -of flax on his distaff for his own good. One of his hobbies being -cheap and good literature for the people, he is thoroughly in sympathy -with the Chautauqua system of popular instruction. He delivered an -address at the Framingham meeting not very long ago, and is one of the -Counselors of the Literary and Scientific Circle. His idea of popular -instruction is in some respects fully realized in this great Chautauqua -organization, with its grove and Hall of Philosophy, its Assembly, -its annual reunions, and central and local reading-circles affording -to each of its thousands of readers the college-student’s general -outlook upon the world. Speaking of Mr. Hale’s democratic sympathies, -it is worthy of record here that when Walt Whitman published his first -quarto, and the press in general was howling with derision over that -remarkable trumpet-blast, Edward Everett Hale discovered the stamp -of genius and manly power in it, and reviewed it favorably in _The -North American Review_. (It must be remembered that the first quarto -of Whitman did not include the poems on sex. These were of later -production.) It is characteristic of him that he has said that although -he has not seen that notice since its appearance in the _Review_ in -1856, he thinks he would nevertheless stand by every word of it to-day. - - W. S. KENNEDY. - -[Within a year or two Dr. Hale has resigned his duties of pastor to -Prof. Edward Cummings of Harvard University, and is free to enjoy the -life of busy leisure which he has so richly earned.--EDITORS.] - - - - - JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS (UNCLE REMUS) - - - - - JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS (UNCLE REMUS) - - AT ATLANTA - - -Joel Chandler Harris is at home in a neat cottage of the familiar -Southern type, which nestles near the bosom of a grove of sweet gum -and pine trees in the little village of West Point, about three miles -from the heart of the “Southern Chicago,” as Georgians delight to call -Atlanta. In the grove a mocking-bird family sings. Around the house are -a few acres of ground, which are carefully cultivated. In one corner -graze a group of beautiful Minerva-eyed Jerseys. At one side of the -house hives of bees are placed near a flower garden sloping down to the -street, which passes in front of the house several rods distant. At the -foot of the road is a bubbling mineral spring, whose sparkling water -supplies the needs of the household. A superb English mastiff eyes with -dignified glance the casual visitor whose coming is apt to be announced -by the bark of two of the finest dogs in the country, one a bulldog, -the other a white English bull-terrier. Mr. Harris’s neighbors are -few, but one who is his closest friend calls for mention. It is Mr. -Evan P. Howell, whose manor is across the way. He is a member of a -distinguished Georgia family, whose name is known at the North through -Howell Cobb, a former Secretary of the Treasury. Mr. Howell himself has -become known to the general public as having declined the Manchester -Consulate to retain his present position as chief editor and owner of -the Atlanta _Constitution_, in whose pages, by Mr. Howell’s persuasion, -Uncle Remus made his first appearance. The interior of the cottage is -simple and unassuming. Bric-à-brac and trumpery “articles of bigotry -and virtue” are absent. The places they generally occupy are taken up -with wide windows and generous hearths. Of literary litter there is -none. There are few books, but they have been read and re-read, and -they are the best of books. The house is not a library, a museum, nor -an art-gallery, but it is evidently a home in which children take the -place of inanimate objects of devotion. - -It is natural that Mr. Harris’s home should be simple, and call -for little elaborate description. He was born and brought up among -simple, sincere people, whose wants were few, whose tastes were -easily satisfied, whose lives were natural and untainted by any such -influences as make for cerebral hyperæmia, or other neurasthenic -complaints incidental, as Dr. Hammond says, to modern city life. The -village of Eatonton, in Middle Georgia, was Mr. Harris’s birth-place. -Since Mr. Henry Watterson, in his book on Southern humor, and other -writers, have made Mr. Harris an older man than he really is, it is -well to state, as “official,” that he was born on the 9th of December, -1848. Eatonton is a small town now, but it was smaller then. It was -surrounded by plantations, and on one of these Mr. Harris spent his -earliest years as other Southern children do. At six he began to read. -Among the first of his literary acquaintances was the delightful “Vicar -of Wakefield.” The boy’s schooling was such as reading the best of -the authors of the periods of Queen Anne and the Georges, and a few -terms at the Eatonton Academy, could give. He read his text-books, -but was bitterly opposed to getting them by heart. When he was about -twelve years old an incident occurred which shaped his whole life. -The Eatonton postmaster kept a sort of general store--the “country -store” of New England,--and its frequenters were at liberty to read the -copies of the Milledgeville and other rural papers which were taken -by subscribers. In one of these, _The Countryman_, young Harris found -that it was edited by a Mr. Turner, whose acquaintance he had made not -very long before, and he thrilled with the thought that he knew a real -editor. Finding that a boy was wanted he wrote for the place, secured -it, and soon learned all that was to be gathered in so small an office. -In addition to this acquirement of knowledge, by the permission of Mr. -Turner, he had access to a library of three thousand volumes, which he -read under the judicious guidance of their owner. Among these books he -lived for several years in the very heart of the agricultural region, -and he pondered over his reading to the music of the clicking types, -with the scamper of the cat-squirrels over the roof and the patter of -the acorns dropped by the jay-birds. For amusement he hunted rabbits -with a pack of half-bred harriers, or listened to the tales of the -plantation Negro, who was there to be found in primitive perfection of -type. It was on the Turner plantation that the original Uncle Remus -told his stories to the little boy. So it was that he absorbed the -wonderfully complete stores of knowledge of the Negro which have since -given him fame. He heard the Negro’s stories and enjoyed them, observed -his characteristics and appreciated them. Time went on. The printer boy -set type, read books, hunted rabbits, ’possums, and foxes, was seized -with an ambition to write, and had begun to do so when Sherman’s army -went marching through Georgia. Slocum’s corps was reviewed by Harris -sitting astride a fence. This parade left the neighborhood in chaos, -and young Harris and _The Countryman_ took a long vacation. At last -peace and quiet and the issue of _The Countryman_ were restored. But -the paper had had its day. - -Mr. Harris was now a full-fledged compositor, and he set his “string” -of the Macon Daily _Telegraph_ for some months. Then he left to go to -New Orleans as the private secretary of the editor of _The Crescent -Monthly_. This position was not arduous, and Mr. Harris found time to -write bright paragraphs for the city press at about the same time that -George W. Cable was trying his hand at the same kind of work. _The -Crescent Monthly_ soon waned, and with its end Mr. Harris found himself -back in Georgia as editor of the Forsyth _Advertiser_, which was and -is one of the most influential weekly papers in Georgia. He was not -only editor, but he set most of the type, worked off the edition on -a hand-press, and wrapped and directed his papers for the mail. His -editorials here, directed against certain abuses in the State, were -widely copied for their pungent criticism and bubbling humor. They -attracted the attention of Colonel W. T. Thompson, author of “Major -Jones’s Courtship,” who was then editor of the Savannah _Daily News_, -and he offered Mr. Harris a place on his staff. It was accepted. This -was in 1871. In 1873 Mr. Harris was married. He remained in Savannah -until September, 1876, when the yellow-fever epidemic caused him to -go up in the mountains to Atlanta, where he became an editor of the -_Constitution_. At that time the paper was beginning to make a more -than local reputation by the humorous Negro dialect sketches by Mr. -S. W. Small, under the name of “Old Si.” Shortly after Mr. Harris’s -arrival Mr. Small left the _Constitution_ to engage in another -enterprise, and the proprietors, in their anxiety to replace one of the -most attractive features of their paper, turned to Mr. Harris for aid. -He was required to furnish two or three sketches a week. He took an -old Negro with whom he had been familiar on the Turner place, and made -him chief spokesman in several character sketches. Their basis was the -projection of the old-time Negro against the new condition of things -brought about by the War. - -These succeeded well; but tiring of them after awhile, he wrote one -night the first sketch as it appears in the published volume, “Uncle -Remus.” To the North this was a revelation of an unknown life. The -slight but strong frame in which the old Negro’s portrait was set, -the playful propinquity of smiles and tears, and the fresh humor and -absolute novelty of the folk-lore tale existing as a hidden treasure -in the South, were revealed for the first time to critical admiration. -The sketches were widely copied in leading journals, like the staid -_Evening Post_ of New York. Both the _Constitution_ and Mr. Harris soon -found that they had a national reputation. When the volume containing -the collected sketches was published, it was an immediate success. -It was soon reprinted in England; and still sells steadily in large -numbers, giving exquisite pleasure to thousands of children and their -elders. A second collection of tales, most of which were published in -_The Century_, but some of which made their first appearance in _The -Critic_, was republished in 1883, and in that year Mr. Harris was -introduced anew to the general public as the writer of a sketch in -Harper’s _Christmas_, which showed for the first time that the firm and -artistic hand which drew the Negro to perfection had mastered equally -well the most difficult art of elaborate character-drawing and of -dramatic development. “Mingo,” the first successful short story of Mr. -Harris, was followed by “At Teague Poteet’s” in _The Century_. - -I have dwelt somewhat at length on the incidents of Mr. Harris’s -career for three reasons: first, because the facts have never before -been printed; second, because they illustrate in a remarkable way -the influence of environment on a literary intellect, whose steady, -healthy, progressive growth and development can be clearly traced; -and third, because it is evident that Mr. Harris is a young man who -has passed over the plains of apprenticeship and is mounting the hill -of purely literary fame, whose acclivity he has overcome by making -a further exertion of the strength and power which he has indicated -though not fully displayed. At present he lives two lives. One is that -of his profession. His duties are arduous, and consume much of his -time. Much of the best work in the _Constitution_, which has given -that paper fame as a representative of “the new South,” is due to Mr. -Harris. In the history of Southern journalism he will occupy a high -place for having introduced in that part of the United States personal -amenities and freedom from sectional tone. He has discussed national -topics broadly and sincerely, in a style which is effective in “molding -public opinion,” but which is not literature. His second life begins -where the other ends. It is literally divided as day is from night, -for his editorial work is done at the _Constitution_ office in the -day-time, and his literary work is done at home at night. On the one -side he works for bread and butter, on the other he works for art, and -from the motive that always exists in the best literary art. At home -he is hardest at work when apparently most indolent, and he allows his -characters to gallop around in his brain and develop long before he -touches pen to paper. When he reaches this stage his work is slow and -careful, and in marked contrast to his editorial work, which is dashed -off at white heat, as such work must be. - -Perhaps the best illustration I can give of his methods is to describe -the genesis of “At Teague Poteet’s,” which may also be interesting as -giving an insight into the work of creative authorship. The trial of -two United States Deputy-Marshals for the killing of an under-witted, -weak, unarmed, and inoffensive old man, who was guilty only of the -crime of having a private still for “moonshine”--not a member of the -mountain band,--was progressing in Atlanta when the subject of simple -proper names as titles of stories came up in the _Constitution_ office. -One of the staff cited Scott’s “Ivanhoe,” Thackeray’s “Pendennis,” -and Dickens’s “David Copperfield” as instances of books which were -likely to attract readers by their titles, and taking up a Georgia -state-directory, the speaker’s eye fell on the name Teague Poteet. -He suggested to Mr. Harris that if he merely took that name and wove -around it the story of the moonshiner’s trial, it would attract as -many readers as Uncle Remus; and it was further suggested that Mr. -Harris should make a column sketch of the subject for the next Sunday’s -_Constitution_. From this simple beginning Teague Poteet grew after -several months’ incubation, and when it was published in _The Century_ -it will be remembered how the public hailed it as disclosing a new -phase of American life, similar to those revealed by Cable, Craddock -and the rest of the new generation. No one unfamiliar with the people -can fully appreciate how truthful and exact is the description of -characteristics; or how accurately the half-humorous, half-melancholy -features of the stern drama of life in the locality are wrought out, -yielding promise of greater things to come. - -In person Mr. Harris has few peculiarities. In stature he is of the -average height of the people of his section, rather under the average -height of the people of the Eastern and Middle States. The Northern -papers have spoken of Mr. Cable as a little man. He and Mr. Harris are -about of a size, which is not much excelled in their section except by -the lank giants of the mountains. His features are small. His face is -tanned and freckled. His mouth is covered by a stubbly red mustache, -and his eyes are small and blue. Both his eyes and mouth are extremely -mobile, sensitive and expressive. There is probably no living man more -truly diffident; but his diffidence is the result of excessive sympathy -and tenderness, which cause the bright blue eyes to well up at any bit -of pathos just as they fairly sparkle with humor. His amusements and -tastes are few and simple. His constant companions are Shakspeare, -Job, St. Paul, and Ecclesiastes. He is devoted to his family, which -consists of his mother, his wife, four exceedingly bright boys and a -girl, and the flock of mocking-birds that winters in his garden. He -never goes into society or to the theatre. He once acted as dramatic -critic of the _Constitution_, but his misery at being obliged to see -and criticise dull actors was so acute that he soon resigned the -position. The small-talk of society has no attractions for him. His -home is enough. When his children are tired and sleepy and are put to -bed, he writes at the fireside where they have been sitting. It is -warm in winter, and cool in summer, and never lonely; and so strong is -his domestic instinct that although he had a room built specially as a -study, he soon deserted its lonely cheerlessness for the comforts of -his home, where his tender and kindly nature makes him loved by every -one. - - ERASTUS BRAINERD. - - - - - PROF. J. A. HARRISON - - - - - PROF. J. A. HARRISON - - AT LEXINGTON, VA. - - -Professor Harrison’s home is in Lexington, a quaint old town in -the “Valley of Virginia.” Situated on North River, an affluent of -the James, Lexington is surrounded by mountains covered with a -native growth of beautiful foliage. In the distance tower aloft the -picturesque Peaks of Otter; nearer by is seen the unique Natural -Bridge. For nearly a century it has been a university town. Two -institutions of learning have generated about the place an intellectual -atmosphere. More than one literary character has made it a home. It -is, indeed, an ideal spot for the studious scholar and the diligent -_littérateur_. - -James Albert Harrison was born at Pass Christian, Mississippi, the -latter part of 1848. His first lessons were given by private tutors. -Later, his family moved to New Orleans and he entered the public -schools of that city. From the public schools he went to the High -School, at the head of his class. But shortly afterwards, in 1862, New -Orleans fell and his family went into exile. They wandered about the -Confederacy some time, from pillar to post, till finally they stuck -in Georgia till the close of the War. This fortunate event kept him -from becoming a midshipman on the _Patrick Henry_. Finally the family -returned to New Orleans. Deprived of regular instruction he had been -giving himself up to voracious, but very miscellaneous, reading; but -now, under a learned German Jew, he began to prepare himself for the -University of Virginia, where he remained two years--until, he says, -“I had to go to work.” After teaching a year near Baltimore he went -to Europe, and studied two years at Bonn and Munich. On his return, -in 1871, he was elected to the chair of Latin and Modern Languages in -Randolph Macon College, Virginia. In 1875 he was called to the chair of -English and Modern Languages in Vanderbilt University; but he remained -where he was till the next year. Then he accepted the corresponding -chair in Washington and Lee University, which he has held ever since. -There, in September, 1885, the happiest event of his life took place. -He was married to a daughter of Virginia’s famous “War Governor,” -Governor Letcher. - -Prof. Harrison comes of a literary family. His father, who was a -leading citizen of New Orleans, and quite wealthy till some time after -the War, belonged to the Harrison family of Virginia. His mother was a -descendant of the Mayor of Bristol in Charles II.’s time, as is shown -by a family diary begun in 1603 and continued to the present day. On -this side, too, he is related to John Hookham Frere, the translator of -Aristophanes. Others of his literary kinsfolk are Miss F. C. Baylor, -author of “On Both Sides” and “Behind the Blue Ridge,” and Mrs. -Tiernan, author of “Homoselle,” “Suzette,” etc. In Prof. Harrison’s -library there are about 3000 volumes, in 15 or 20 different languages, -while here and there through the house are scattered bric-à-brac, -pictures, and a heterogeneous collections of odds and ends picked up in -travel--feather-pictures and banded agates from Mexico, embroideries -and pipes from Constantinople, souvenirs from Alaska, British America, -Norway, Germany, France, Spain, Italy and Greece. His naturally good -taste in art and music has been well cultivated. His conversation is -delightful--now racy with anecdote, now bristling with repartee, again -charming with instruction. More than any other man, I think, he is a -harbinger of better things at the South. He is a real son of the new -South. In him the old and the new are harmoniously blended. To the -polish, the suavity, the refinement of the old South are added the -earnestness, the enthusiasm, the wider and more useful culture of the -new. Up to this time his life has been spent in study, in travel, in -teaching, and in writing. - -In teaching and in scholarly work Professor Harrison has been unusually -active. Since 1871 he has taught nine months of every year; and almost -every year has seen from his pen some piece of scholarly work in the -domain of English, French or German literature and philology. Heine’s -“Reisebilder,” “French Syntax,” “Negro English,” “Creole Patois,” -“Teutonic Life in Beowulf,” ten lectures on “Anglo-Saxon Poetry” before -Johns Hopkins University--these, with several other publications, bear -witness to his industry and his scholarship. But his chief claim to -regard in this department of literature is in originating the “Library -of Anglo-Saxon Poetry,” and in his work on the “Handy Anglo-Saxon -Dictionary.” The first volume of the Library, that on Beowulf, at -once took the first place with English and American scholars, and -was adopted as a text-book in Oxford and other universities. In the -lecture-room Professor Harrison is pleasant, genial, helpful and alert. -His students like him as a man, and take pride in showing his name on -their diplomas. He had not been teaching two years before he convinced -every one that only thorough scholarship could win that signature. - -At a very early age Professor Harrison began to write doggerel -for the New Orleans _Picayune_ and _Times_. While a student at -the University of Virginia he wrote an article for the Baltimore -_Episcopal Methodist_ called “Notre Dame de Paris,” which attracted -much attention. His next piece of literary work was a paper on -Björnstjerne Björnson, which won the $50 gold medal given by _The -University Magazine_. As he was not a matriculate at the time, the -prize could not be awarded. In 1871 his “first literary effort,” as he -calls it, appeared in _Lippincott’s Magazine_. It was entitled “Goethe -and the Scenery about Baden-Baden.” Then essay after essay followed -in quick succession from his pen. Soon after this his connection with -_The Southern Magazine_ began, which resulted in a series of essays -on French, German, English, Swedish, and Italian poets. These were -published by Hurd & Houghton, in 1875, under the title of “A Group -of Poets and their Haunts,” and the edition was immediately sold. In -literary circles, especially in Boston, this book won for the young -author firm standing-ground. His first work is chiefly remarkable for -the overflow of a copious vocabulary and the almost riotous display of -a rich fancy and abundant learning. We are swept along with the stream -in which trees torn up by the roots from Greek and Latin banks come -whirling, dashing, plunging by in countless numbers; the waters spread -out on all sides, but we are not always quite sure of the channel. -Since then the waters have subsided, and we see a broad channel and a -current swift and clear. In 1876 Professor Harrison made a visit to -Greece, and on his return published through Houghton, Osgood & Co. a -volume of “Greek Vignettes.” The London _Academy_ expressed the general -opinion of this book in the following sentence: “It is so charmingly -written that one can hardly lay it down to criticise it.” In 1878 a -visit to Spain resulted in another book, “Spain in Profile,” which -was followed in 1881 by the “History of Spain.” In 1885 the Putnams -began to publish the Story of the Nations, and Professor Harrison’s -“Story of Greece” was given the place of honor as the initial volume -of the series. His chief characteristics, as shown in these works, -are critical insight and descriptive power. His versatile fancy, -too, is ever giving delightful surprises, as in this little note -anent Dr. Holmes’s seventy-fifth birthday: “He is the Light of New -England, as Longfellow was the Love, and Emerson the Intellect. I saw -a wonderful cactus in Mexico, all prickles and blossoms--Dr. Oliver -Wendell Holmes all over; but the blossoms hid the prickles.” Some -of his most elaborate descriptions are found in “Spain in Profile,” -such as the “Alhambra,” “A Spanish Bull-fight”; others again in _The -Critic_ (“Venice from a Gondola,” “A Summer in Alaska,” etc.) to which -he has long been a constant contributor. His critical insight is -shown in such reviews as those of Ruskin, Poe, Balzac, and Froude’s -“Oceana,” and in such brief essays as “An Italian Critic,” “Two -Views of Shelley,” “George Sand and Diderot,” etc. His contributions -to other periodicals have been numerous. His articles in _The -Nation_, _Literary World_, _Current_, _Independent_, _Home Journal_, -_Lippincott’s_, _Manhattan_, _Overland Monthly_, _American Journal of -Philology_, _Anglia_, etc., would fill several volumes. Two charming -stories--“P’tit-José-Ba’tiste,” a Creole story, and “Dieudonnée,” a -West Indian Creole story--testify to his skill in this kind of writing. -Since 1895 he has been professor of English and Romance languages in -the University of Virginia. Several trips to different parts of Europe, -visits to Alaska, British America, Mexico, and the West Indies, during -which he studied the languages as well as the customs of the peoples, -have given him many a “peep over the edge of things.” - - W. M. BASKERVILL. - - - - - COL. JOHN HAY - - - - - COL. JOHN HAY - - IN WASHINGTON - - -It was a happy thought that inspired _The Critic’s_ series of Authors -at Home. The very idea was benevolence. One of its charms is the -reader’s sense of mutuality--reciprocity. Has not Col. Hay, for -instance, been a welcomed guest beneath many, many roof-trees, beside -many, many hearthstones; and are his own doors to be shut with a -“Procul, O procul este, profani!”? One can fancy the gratitude of -posterity for these contemporary sketches of those whose lips have been -touched and tongues loosened by the song-inspirer--of those who have -“instructed our ignorance, elevated our platitudes, brightened our -dullness, and delighted our leisure.” For the lack of a _Critic_ in the -past, how little we know of those authors at home whom we forgather -with in imagination! A scrap of this memoir, that biography, and yonder -letter, makes a ragged picture at best. There was only one Boswell, and -he, as Southey says, has gone to heaven for his “Johnson,” if ever a -man went there for his good works. The mind’s eye, of course, pictures -Rogers at one of his famous breakfasts; the galaxy at Holland House; -Coleridge monotoning, with Lamb furnishing puns for periods; “smug -Sydney,” ten miles from a lemon, scattering pearls before Yorkshire -swine; Dr. Johnson at Thrale’s, drinking tea and bullying his betters; -Dryden enthroned at the Kit-kat; but all the portraits, save those -by Boswell, are unsatisfactory--mere outlines without coloring, and -lacking that essential background, the “at home.” - -Great political revolutions are the results or causes of literary -schools; and the future student of our literature will note with -more emphasis than we, that one of the incidents or results of the -war between the sections was the birth of a new school of writers -whose works are distinctively original and distinctively American. -To this class, who have won, and are winning, fame for themselves -while conferring it upon their country, belongs Col. Hay. His earlier -writings have the characteristics of freshness, vigor and intensity -which indicate an absence of the literary vassalage that dwarfed the -growth and conventionalized or anglicized American writers as a class. -Travel and indwelling among the shrines of the Old World’s literary -gods and goddesses, have not un-Americanized either the man or the -author. The facile transition from “Jim Bludso” to “A Woman’s Love” is -paralleled by that from a bull-fight to a Bourbon duel. - -Though not at all ubiquitous, Col. Hay is a man of many homes,--that -of his birth, Indiana; that of his Alma Mater, “Brown,” whose memory -he has gracefully and affectionately embalmed in verse; that of his -Mother-in-Law, Illinois, having been admitted to her bar in 1861. This -great year--1861--the pivot upon which turned so many destinies,--saw -him “at home” in the White House. Next to his own individual claims -upon national recognition, his relations to the martyred President, the -well-known confidence, esteem and affection which that great guider of -national destiny felt for his youthful secretary, have rendered his -name as familiar as a household word. At home in the tented fields of -the Civil War, at home in the diplomatic circles of Paris, Vienna, and -Madrid, Col. Hay, after an exceptionally varied experience, planted his -first vine and fig-tree in Cleveland, Ohio, and his second in the City -of Washington. Between these two homes he vibrates. The summer finds -him in his Euclid Avenue house, which occupies the site where that -of Susan Coolidge once stood. Around its far-reaching courtyard and -uncramped, unfenced spaciousness, she moved--that happiest of beings, -one endeared to little stranger hearts all over the land. - -Among the many handsome residences erected within a few years in -Washington, Col. Hay’s is one of the largest. Its solid mass of -red brick, massive stone trimmings, stairway and arched entrance, -Romanesque in style, give it an un-American appearance of being built -to stay. The architect, the late H. H. Richardson, seems to have -dedicated the last efforts of dying genius to the object of making -the structure bold without and beautiful within. The great, broad -hall, the graceful and roomy stairway, the large dining-room on the -right, wainscoted in dark mahogany, with its great chimney-place and -great stone mantel-piece extending beyond on either side; the other -chimney-places with African marble mantelpieces; the oak wainscoting -of the large library, and the colored settles on either side of -the fireplace; the cosey little room at the entrance; the charming -drawing-room--in brief, it seems as though Mr. Richardson contemplated -a monument to himself when he designed this beautiful home. The library -is the largest room; and it was there that I found Col. Hay at home in -every sense. The walls are shelved, hung (not crowded) with pictures; -the works of _virtu_ break the otherwise staring ranks of books. - -The author’s house is situated at the corner of H and Sixteenth -Streets. Its southern windows look out upon Lafayette Park, and beyond -it at the confronting White House, peculiarly suggestive to Col. Hay -of historic days and men; and as he labors on his History of Lincoln, -I imagine, the view of the once home of the martyr is a source at once -of sadness and of inspiration. In the same street, one block to the -west, lived George Bancroft; diagonally across the park, and in full -view, is the house where was attempted the assassination of Secretary -Seward, and near where Philip Barton Key was killed by Gen. Sickles; -opposite the east front of Col. Hay’s house is St. John’s, one of the -oldest Episcopal churches in the District of Columbia, much frequented -by the older Presidents. It was here that Dolly Madison exhibited her -frills and fervor. Before the days of American admirals, tradition -says that one of the old commodores, returning from a long and far -cruise in which he had distinguished himself, and starting for St. -John’s on a Sunday morning, entered the church as the congregation -was about repeating the Creed. As soon as he was in the aisle, the -people stood up, as is the custom. The old commodore, being conscious -of meritorious service, mistook the movement for an expression of -personal respect, and with patronizing politeness, waved his hand -toward the Rev. Dr. Pyne and the congregation, and said: “Don’t rise -on my account!” The whitened sepulchre of a house to the west of Col. -Hay’s, was the residence of Senator Slidell--the once international -What-shall-we-do-with-him? The eastern corner of the opposite block was -the home and death-place of Sumner. In the immediate neighborhood are -the three clubs of Washington--the Metropolitan, Cosmos, and Jefferson. -The first has the character of being exclusive, the second of being -scientific, and the third liberal. In the one they eat terrapin; in -the other, talk anthropology; while in the last, Congressmen, Cabinet -officers and journalists are “at home,” and a spirit of cosmopolitanism -prevails. - -The author of “Pike County Ballads” and “Castilian Days,” and the -biographer of Lincoln, is about sixty-four years of age. In person, of -average height; gray hair, mustache and beard, and brown eyes; well -built, well dressed, well bred and well read, he is pleasant to look -at and to talk with. He is a good talker and polite listener, and -altogether an agreeable and instructive companion. As a collector he -seems to be jealous as to quality rather than greedy as to quantity. -His shelves are not loaded down with so many pounds of print bound in -what-not, and his pictures and works of art “have pedigrees.” I found -great pleasure in examining a fine old edition of Lucan’s “Pharsalia,” -printed at Strawberry Hill, with notes by Grotius and Bentley. A much -more interesting work was “The Hierarchie of the Blessed Angells, -Printed by Adam Islip, 1635.” On the fly-leaf was written: “E. B. -Jones, from his friend A. C. Swinburne.” My attention was called to the -following lines: - - Mellifluous Shake-speare, whose enchanting quill, - Commanded mirth and passion, was but Will. - -They suggested the Donnelly extravaganza; and I discovered Col. Hay to -be of the opinion which well-informed students of English literature -generally hold--namely, that Mr. Donnelly’s ingenuity is equalled only -by his ignorance. There was also a presentation copy of the first -edition of Beckford’s “Vathek,” and De Thou’s copy of Calvin’s Letters, -with De Thou’s and his wife’s ciphers intertwined in gilt upon its side -and back, expressive of a partnership even in their books; and rare and -costly editions of Rogers’s “Italy” and “Poems.” It will be recollected -that the banker-poet engaged Turner to illustrate his verses, and the -total cost to the author was about $60,000. Among objects of special -interest are the bronze masks of Mr. Lincoln, one by Volk (1860), -the other by Clark Mills (1865). It is a test of credulity to accept -them as the counterfeit presentments of the President. There is such -a difference in the contour, lines and expression, that, as Col. Hay -remarked, the contrast exhibits the influences and effects of the -great cares and responsibilities under which Mr. Lincoln labored; and -although both casts were made in life, and at an interval of only five -years, the latter one represents a face fifteen years older than the -first. - -Over the library door are two large bronze portraits, hanging on the -same line; one is of Howells, the other of James. Residence abroad, -and that attention to and study of art to which “An Hour with the -Painters” bears evidence, enabled Col. Hay to make a selection of -oils and water-colors, pen-and-inks and drawings which is not marred -by anything worthless. Before referring to these, I must not pass a -portrait of Henry James, when twenty-one years of age, painted by -Lafarge. A Madonna and Child, by Sassoferrato; St. Paul’s, London, -by Canaletto; a woman’s portrait by Maes; four pen-and-ink sketches -by Du Maurier, and one by Zamacois; two by Turner--of Lucerne and -the Drachenfels (see “Childe Harold,” or the guide-book, for Byron’s -one-line picture of the castellated cliff); a water-color by Girtin, -Turner’s over-praised teacher; and a collection of original drawings -by the old masters--Raphael, Correggio, Teniers, Guido, Rubens and -others,--surely there is nothing superfluous in his collection; and -the same elegant and discriminating taste is exhibited in all of Col. -Hay’s surroundings. The poet has laid aside his lyre temporarily, and -with Mr. Nicolay, late Marshal of the Supreme Court, devoted himself to -preparing for _The Century_ what, at the time it was written, was the -most exhaustive memoir of a man and his times ever written on this side -of the Atlantic. Conscious of the depth, height, and breadth of their -theme, the writers did not propose to leave anything for successors to -supply on the subject of Mr. Lincoln’s administration. - -Reflecting that though scientific workers were plentiful in Washington -there was but a sprinkling of literary men, I asked Col. Hay what he -thought of the capital’s possibilities as a “literary centre.” His -opinion was that the great presses and publishing-houses were the -nucleus of literary workers; but that the advantages afforded, or to -be afforded, by the National Library and other Government facilities, -must of necessity invite authors to Washington, from time to time, on -special errands, or for temporary residence. - - B. G. LOVEJOY. - -[Since his residence in London as Ambassador to the Court of St. James -and his resignation from the position of Secretary of State, Col. Hay -has divided his time between Washington and his summer home at Lake -Sunapee, in New Hampshire.--EDITORS.] - - - - - THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON - - - - - THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON - - AT CAMBRIDGE - - -Colonel Higginson looks back on the anti-slavery period as on something -quite unusual in human experience. He believes there has been no -other movement of the moral consciousness in man since the period -of the Puritan upheaval which has given such mental quickening and -force to those taking part in it. He sees in it the better part of -his training as an author; and it has guided him in his relations to -the social and intellectual agitations of his time. His training as -a reformer he cannot forget; and he still remains first of all the -friend of human progress. In 1850, he lost his pulpit in Newburyport -because of his zealous advocacy of the anti-slavery cause, in season -and out of season. At the same time, he was the Freesoil candidate for -Congress in the northeastern district of Massachusetts. He became the -pastor of a Free Church in Worcester, not connected with any sect, -and organized quite as much in behalf of freedom in politics as for -the sake of freedom in religion. He was connected with all the most -stirring anti-slavery scenes in Boston, and he eagerly favored physical -resistance to the encroachments of the pro-slavery party. He joined -in the Anthony Burns riot, in which he was wounded, and which failed -only through a misunderstanding. He was a leader in organizing Freesoil -parties for Kansas, and spent six weeks in the Territory in that -behalf. He was one of those who planned a party for the rescuing of -John Brown after his sentence at Harper’s Ferry; and he early offered -his services to the Governor of Massachusetts on the breaking out of -the Civil War. His zeal for the blacks was so well known, that it -inspired the following lines of some anonymous poetizer: - - There was a young curate of Worcester - Who could have a command if he’d choose ter; - But he said each recruit - Must be blacker than soot - Or else he’d go preach where he used ter! - -In fact, he recruited two companies in the vicinity of Worcester, -and was given a captain’s commission. While yet in camp he received -the appointment to the colonelcy of the First South Carolina -Volunteers--“the first slave regiment mustered into the service of the -United States during the late Civil War,”--nearly six months previous -to Colonel Shaw’s famous regiment, the 54th Mass. Volunteers. - -Col. Higginson signed the first call, in 1850, for a national -convention of the friends of woman’s suffrage, which was held -in Worcester. One of the leaders of that movement since, his -fifteen-years’ defence of it in the columns of _The Woman’s Journal_ -shows the faithfulness of his devotion. His connection with the Free -Religious Association proves that he has been true to the faith of -his youth, and to his refusal to connect himself with any sect in -entering the pulpit. When that association lost its pristine glow and -devotion, with the passing of the transcendental period, he still -remained faithful to his early idea, that all religious truth comes -by intuition. His addresses before it on “The Sympathy of Religions” -and on “The Word Philanthropy” indicate the direction of his faith in -humanity and in its development into ever better social, moral, and -spiritual conditions. - -Whatever the value of the independent movement in politics, which -has given us a change in the political administration of the country -for the first time in a quarter of a century, it doubtless owes its -inception and strength largely to those men, like Curtis, Higginson, -and Julian, who were enlisted heart and soul in the anti-slavery -agitation, and who got there a training which has made them impatient -of party manipulation and wrong-doing. Had these men not been -trained to believe in man more than in party, there would have been -no independent organization and no revolution in our politics. In -1880, Colonel Higginson was on the committee of one hundred for the -organization of a new party in case Grant was nominated for a third -term; and four years previously he placed himself in line with the -Independents. In 1884, he was the mover of the resolution in the Boston -Reform Club for the calling of a convention, out of which grew the -independent movement of that year. The resolutions reported by him were -taken up in the New York convention and the spirit of them carried -to successful issue. He was a leading speaker for the Independents -during the campaign, giving nearly thirty addresses in the States of -Massachusetts, Vermont, Connecticut, New York, and New Jersey. The -chairman of the Massachusetts committee wrote him after the campaign of -the great value of his services, and thanked him in the most flattering -terms in behalf of the Independents of the State. - -Colonel Higginson is an author who finds his intellectual inspiration -in contact with Nature and man, as well as in books. His essays on -out-door life, and on physical culture, show the activity of his nature -and his zeal for all kinds of knowledge. He easily interests himself -in all subjects; he can turn his mind readily from one pursuit to -another, and he enjoys all with an equal relish. He has a love of -mathematics such as few men possess; and, when in college, Professor -Peirce anticipated that would be the direction of his studies. During -the time of the anti-slavery riots he one day met the Professor in -the street, and remarked to him that he should enjoy an imprisonment -of several months for the sake of the leisure it would give him to -read La Place’s “Mécanique Céleste.” “I heartily wish you might have -that opportunity,” was the Professor’s reply; for he disliked the -anti-slavery agitation as much as he loved his own special line of -studies. Colonel Higginson has also been an enthusiastic lover of -natural history, and he could easily have given his life to that -pursuit. Perhaps not less ardent has been his interest in the moral and -political sciences, to the practical interpretation of which his life -has always been more or less devoted. Not only has he been the champion -of the reforms already mentioned, but he has been the zealous friend of -education. For three years a member of the Massachusetts State Board -of Education, he has also been on the visiting committees of Harvard -University and the Bridgewater Normal School for several years. He was -in the Massachusetts Legislature during 1880 and 1881. He has been an -active member of the Social Science Association; and he is now the -President of the Round Table Club of Boston, which grew out of that -organization. - -This versatility of talent and activity has had its important influence -on Colonel Higginson’s life as an author. It has given vitality, -freshness, and a high aim to his work; but it has, perhaps, scattered -its force. All who have read his principal works, as now published in -a uniform edition by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., will have noted that -they embody many phases of his activity. There are the purely literary -essays, the two volumes of Newport stories and sketches, the out-door -essays, the volume of army reminiscences, and the volume of short -essays (from the _Independent_, _Tribune_, and _Woman’s Journal_) -devoted to the culture and advancement of woman. The admiring readers -of the best of these volumes can but regret that in recent years his -attention has been so exclusively drawn to historical writing. Though -his later work has been done in the finest manner, it does not give a -free opportunity for the expression of Colonel Higginson’s charming -style and manner. The day when he returns to purely original work, in -the line of his own finished and graceful interpretations of nature and -life, will be hailed with joy by the lovers of his books. - -Any account of the personal characteristics of Colonel Higginson would -be imperfect which omitted to mention his success as a public speaker -and as an after-dinner orator. He was trained for public speaking on -the anti-slavery platform, a better school than any now provided for -the development of youthful talent. When preaching in Worcester he -began to deliver literary lectures before the flourishing lyceums of -that day. As a lecturer he was successful; and he continued for many -years to be a favorite of the lyceum-goers, until the degeneracy of -the popular lecture caused him to withdraw from that field of literary -effort. The lecture on “The Aristocracy of the Dollar,” which he now -occasionally gives to special audiences, has been in use for more than -twenty years, and it has been transformed many times. Another well-worn -lecture is that on “Literature in a Republic,” which he repeats less -often. Among his other subjects have been “Thinking Animals” (instinct -and reason), and “How to Study History.” The paper in the “_Atlantic_ -Essays” on “The Puritan Minister” long did duty as a lyceum lecture; -and those who have read it can but think it well fitted to the purpose. - -On the platform Colonel Higginson is self-controlled in manner, and -strong in his reserved power. He does not captivate his hearer by the -rush and swing and over-mastering weight of his oratory, but by the -freshness, grace and finish of his thought. He often appears on the -platform in Cambridge and Boston in behalf of the causes for which -those cities are noted, and no one is more popular or listened to with -greater satisfaction. Perhaps he only needs the passion and the stormy -vigor of a cause which completely commands and carries captive his -nature to make one of the most successful of popular orators. During -the political campaign of 1884 his addresses were marked by their force -and fire; and he was called for wherever there was a demand for an -enthusiastic and vigorous presentation of the Independent position. As -an after-dinner speaker, however, Colonel Higginson’s gifts shine out -most clearly and reveal the charm of his style to the best advantage. - -It is the public rather than the private side of Colonel Higginson’s -character which has been thus revealed; but it is the side which is -most important to the understanding and appreciation of his books. It -is the quiet and busy life of the scholar and man-of-letters he leads -in Cambridge, but of a man-of-letters who is intensely interested in -all that pertains to his country’s welfare and all that makes for the -elevation of humanity. He is ready at any moment to leave his books -and his pen to engage in affairs, and in settling questions of public -importance, when the cause of right and truth demands. Quickly and -keenly sympathetic with the life of his time, he will never permit the -writing of books to absorb his heart to the exclusion of whatever -human interests his country calls him to consider. - -Born and bred in Cambridge, Colonel Higginson lived in Newburyport, -Worcester, and Newport from 1847 to 1878. In the latter year he -returned to Cambridge, and took up his residence in a house near the -University. Soon after, he built a house on Observatory Hill, between -Cambridge Square and Mount Auburn Cemetery, on ground over which he -played as a boy. It is a plain-looking structure, combining the Queen -Anne and the old colonial style, but very cosey and homelike within. -The hall is modeled after that of an old family mansion in Portsmouth; -and many other features of the house are copied from old New England -dwellings. A sword presented to Colonel Higginson by the freemen of -Beaufort, S. C., the colors borne by his regiment, and other relics -of the Civil War, decorate the hall. To the left on entering is the -study, along one side of which are well-filled book-shelves, on -another a piano, while a bright fire burns in the open grate. Beyond -is a smaller room, lined on all sides with books, in which Colonel -Higginson does his writing. His book-shelves hold many rare books; a -considerable collection by and about women, which he prizes highly and -often uses, he presented to the Boston Public Library, where it is -known as the Galatea Collection. His study has no special ornaments; -its furniture is simple, and the book-cases are of the plainest sort. -The most attractive article of furniture the room contains is his -own easy-chair, which came to him from the Wentworth family, where -it had been an heirloom for generations. Back of the parlor is the -dining-room, which is sunny and cheerful, adorned with flowers, and -adapted to family life and conversation. The pictures that cover the -walls all through the house have been selected with discriminating -appreciation. Many indications of an artistic taste appear throughout -the house; and everywhere there are signs of the domestic comfort the -Colonel enjoys so much. His present wife is a niece of Longfellow’s -first wife. Her literary tastes have found expression in her “Seashore -and Prairie,” a volume of pleasant sketches, in the publication of -which Longfellow took a hearty interest; and in her “Room for One -More,” a delightful children’s book. Domestic in his tastes, his -home is to Colonel Higginson the centre of the world. Its “bright, -particular star” is his daughter of twenty, his only child, to whom he -is devotedly attached. His happiest hours are spent in her company, and -in watching the growth of her mind. - -Everything about Colonel Higginson’s house indicates a refined and -cultivated taste, but nothing of the dilettante spirit is to be seen. -He loves what is artistic, but he prefers not to sacrifice to it the -home feeling and the home comforts. He writes all the better for his -quiet and home-keeping environment, and for the wide circle of his -social and personal relations with the best men and women of his time. -His literary work is done in the morning, and he seldom takes up the -pen after the task of the forenoon is accomplished. Most of his work -is done slowly and deliberately, with careful elaboration and thorough -revision. In this manner he wrote his review of Dr. Holmes’s “Emerson” -in _The Nation_; and his essays in the same periodical following the -deaths of Longfellow, Emerson, and Phillips. He thoroughly enjoyed -the writing of the papers published in _Harper’s Monthly_, which were -reissued in book form as his “Larger History of the United States,” -and he entered on the task of hunting out the illustrations and the -illustrative details with an antiquarian’s zeal and a poet’s love -of the romantic. His address on a Revolutionary vagabond shows the -fascination which the old-time has for him in all its features of -quaintness, romance and picturesqueness. - -Colonel Higginson finds the morning hour the most conducive to -freshness and vigor of thought, and the most promotive of health of -body and mind. After dinner he devotes himself to his family, to -social recreation, to communings with and studies of Nature, and to -business. He is quite at home in Cambridge society; and, being to the -manner born, he enters into its intellectual and social recreations -with relish and satisfaction. He is a ready and interesting converser, -bright, witty, full of anecdote, and quick with illustrations and -quotations of the most pertinent kind. His wide reading, large -experience of life, and extensive acquaintance with men and women -give him rich materials for conversation, which he knows how to use -gracefully and with good effect. He readily wins the confidence of -those he meets. Women find him a welcome companion, whose kindliness -and chivalric courtesy win their heartiest admiration. They turn to -him with confidence, as to the champion of their sex, and he naturally -numbers many bright and noble women among his friends. - -He is a dignified, ready and agreeable presiding officer. As a leader -of club life he is eminently successful, whether it be the Round Table, -the Browning, or the Appalachian Mountain Club. He enjoys a certain -amount of this kind of intellectual recreation; and fortunate is the -club which secures his kindly and gracious guidance. Very early a -reader of Browning, he is thoroughly familiar with the works of that -poet, and rejoices in whatever extends a knowledge of his writings. -Especially has he been the soul of the Round-Table Club, which meets -fortnightly in Boston parlors--an association full of good-fellowship, -the spirit of thoughtful inquiry, and earnest sympathy with the best -intellectual life of the time. - -As Colonel Higginson walks along the street, much of the soldier’s -bearing appears; for he is tall and erect, and keeps the soldier’s -true dignity of movement. His chivalric spirit pervades much that he -has written, but it is tempered and refined by the artistic instinct -for grace and beauty. He has the manly and heroic temper, but none -of the soldier’s rudeness or love of violence. So he appears in his -books as of knightly metal, but as a knight who also loves the rôle of -the troubadour. A master of style, he does not write for the sake of -decoration and ornament. He is emphatically a scholar and a lover of -books, but not in the scholastic sense. A lover of ideas, an idealist -by nature and conviction, he sees in the things of the human spirit -what is more than all the scholar’s lore and knowledge wrung from the -physical world. He is a scholar who learns of men and events more than -of books; and yet what wealth of classic and literary allusion is his -throughout all his books and addresses! Whether in the study or in the -camp, on the platform or in the State House, his tastes are literary -and scholarly; but his sympathies are with all that is natural, manly -and progressive. - -Seven months of last year Colonel Higginson spent in Europe, and he has -just finished a life of Longfellow in the “American Men of Letters” -series. - - GEORGE WILLIS COOKE. - - - - - DR. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES - - - - - DR. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES - - IN BEACON STREET - - -“It is strange,” remarks Lady Wilde, “how often a great genius has -given a soul to a locality.” We may prefer our own illustration to -hers, and remember in simpler fashion what Judd’s “Margaret” did for -a little village in Maine, or what Howe did for a little Western -town, instead of insisting that Walter Scott created Scotland or -Byron the Rhine. But the remark suggests, perhaps, quite as forcibly, -what locality has done for genius. The majority of writers who have -tried to deal with people, whether as novelists, poets, or essayists, -localize their human beings until “local color” becomes one of the most -essential factors of their success. Sometimes, like Judd and Howe, they -make the most of a very narrow environment; sometimes, like Cable, they -make their environment include a whole race, till the work becomes -historical as well as photographic; sometimes, like Mrs. Jackson, they -travel for a new environment; sometimes, like Howells and James, they -travel from environment to environment, and write now of Venice, -now of London, now of Boston, with skill equal to the ever-varying -opportunity; sometimes, like George Eliot writing “Romola,” or Harriet -Prescott Spofford writing “In a Cellar,” they stay at home and give -wonderful pictures of a life and time they have never known--compelled, -at least, however, to seek the environment of a library. Even -Shakspeare, who was certainly not a slave to his surroundings, sought -local color from books to an extent that we realize on seeing Irving’s -elaborate efforts to reproduce it. Even Hawthorne, escaping from -the material world whenever he could into the realm of spirit and -imagination, made profound studies of Salem or Italy the basis from -which he flew to the empyrean. To understand perfectly how fine such -work as this is, one must have, one’s self, either from experience or -study, some knowledge of the localities so admirably reproduced. - -The genius of Oliver Wendell Holmes was almost unique in the fact that, -dealing almost exclusively with human beings--not merely human nature -exhibited in maxims--rarely wandering into discussions of books or art -or landscape--it was almost entirely independent of any environment -whatever. He was anchored to one locality almost as securely as Judd -was to New England or Howe to the West; for a chronological record -of the events of his life makes no mention of any journeys, except -the two years and a half as medical student in Europe, when he was -twenty-four years old, and “One Hundred Days in Europe” in 1887. He -spent every winter in Boston, every summer at Beverly Farms, which, -like Nahant, may almost be called “cold roast Boston”; yet during -the fifty years he wrote from Boston, he neither sought his material -from his special environment nor tried to escape from it. It is -human nature, not Boston nature, that he has drawn for us. Once, in -“Elsie Venner,” there is an escape like Hawthorne’s into the realm -of the psychological and weird; several times in the novels there -are photographic bits of a New England “party,” or of New England -character; but the great mass of the work which has appealed to so wide -a class of readers with such permanent power appeals to them because, -dealing with men and women, it deals with no particular men and women. -Indeed, it is hardly even men, women, and children that troop through -his pages; but rather man, woman, and child. His human beings are no -more Bostonians than the ducks of his “Aviary” are Charles River ducks. -They are ducks. He happened to see them on the Charles River; nay, -within the still narrower limits of his own window-pane; still, they -are ducks, and not merely Boston ducks. The universality of his genius -is wonderful, not because he exhibits it in writing now a clever novel -about Rome, now a powerful sketch of Montana, and anon a remarkable -book about Japan; but it is wonderful because it discovers within the -limits of Boston only what is universal. To understand perfectly how -fine such work as this is, you need never have been anywhere, yourself, -or have read any other book; any more than you would have to be one -of the “Boys of ’29” to appreciate the charming class-poems that have -been delighting the world, as well as the “Boys,” for fifty years. In -“Little Boston” he has, it is true, impaled some of the characteristics -which are generally known as Bostonian; but his very success in doing -this is of a kind to imply that he had studied his Bostonian only in -Paris or St. Louis; for the peculiar traits described are those no -Bostonian is supposed to be able to see for himself, still less to -acknowledge. If Dr. Holmes were to have spent a winter in New York, he -would have carried back with him, not material for a “keen satire on -New York society,” but only more material of what is human. Nay, he -probably would not have carried back with him anything at all which -he had not already found in Boston, since he seems to have found -everything there. - -So there is no need of knowing how or where Dr. Holmes lived, or what -books he read, to understand and enjoy his work. But all the same, -one likes to know where he lived, from a warm, affectionate, personal -interest in the man; just as we like to know of our dearest friends, -not only that they dwell in a certain town, but that their parlor is -furnished in red, and that the piano stands opposite the sofa. Of his -earliest home, at Cambridge, he has himself told us in words which we -certainly will not try to improve upon. Later came the home of his -early married life in Montgomery Place, of which he has said: “When he -entered that door, two shadows glided over the threshold; five lingered -in the doorway when he passed through it for the last time, and one of -the shadows was claimed by its owner to be longer than his own.” A few -brief, half-mystical allusions such as this are all that we gain from -his writings about his personal surroundings, as a few simple allusions -to certain streets and buildings are all that localize the “Autocrat” -as a Bostonian. For the man who has almost exceptionally looked into -his own heart to write has found in his heart, as he has in his city, -never what was personal or special, always what was human and universal. - -But it will be no betrayal of trust for us to follow out the dim -outline a little, and tell how the five shadows flitted together from -Montgomery Place to Charles Street. Then, after another dozen years, -still another change seemed desirable. Dr. Holmes felt as few men do -the charm of association, and the sacredness of what is endeared by -age; but the very roundness of his nature which made him appreciate -not only what is human, but everything that is human, made him keenly -alive to the charm of what is new if it is beautiful. A rounded nature -finds it hard to be consistent. He wrote once: “It is a great happiness -to have been born in an old house haunted by recollections,” and he -asserted more than once the dignity of having, not only ancestors, but -ancestral homes; yet if we were to have reminded him of this in his -beautiful new house with all the latest luxuries and improvements, we -can imagine the kindly smile with which he would have gazed round the -great, beautiful room, with its solid woods and plate-glass windows, -and said gently: “I know I ought to like the other, and I do, but -how can I help liking this, too?” Yes, the charming new architecture -and the lovely new houses were too much for them; they would flit -again--though with a sigh. Not out of New England--no, indeed! not away -from Boston--certainly not. Hardly, indeed, out of Charles Street; for -although a “very plain brown-stone front would do,” provided its back -windows looked upon the river, the river they must have. - -Dr. Holmes wanted, not big front windows from which to study the -Bostonians, but a big bay-window at the back, from which he could see -the ducks and gulls and think how like to human nature are all their -little lives and loves and sorrows. So little is there in his work of -what is personal, that it is possible there are people--in England--who -really think the “Autocrat” dwelt in the boarding-house of his books. -But those who believe with him that, as a rule, genius means ancestors, -are not surprised to know that Dr. Holmes himself had many more than -the average allowance of ancestors, and that, as a descendant of -Dudley, Bradstreet, the Olivers, Quincys, and Jacksons, his “hut of -stone” fronted on one of Boston’s most aristocratic streets, though -the dear river behind it flows almost close to its little garden gate. -Under his windows all the morning trooped the loveliest children -of the city in the daintiest apparel, wheeled in the costliest of -perambulators by the whitest-capped of French nurses. Past his door -every afternoon the “swellest” turn-outs of the great city passed on -their afternoon parade. Near his steps, at the hour for afternoon tea, -the handsomest _coupés_ came to anchor and deposited their graceful -freight. But this is not the panorama, that the Doctor himself was -watching. Whether in the beautiful great dining-room, where he was -first to acknowledge the sway at breakfast, luncheon and dinner, of -a still gentler Autocrat than himself, or in the library upstairs, -which was the heart of the home, he was always on the river side of the -house. The pretty little reception-room downstairs on the Beacon Street -side, he would tell you himself, with a merry smile, is a good place -for your “things”; you yourself must come directly up into the library, -and look on the river, broad enough just here to seem a beautiful lake. -I know of no other room in the heart of a great city where one so -completely forgot the nearness of the world as in this library. Even if -the heavy doors stood open into the hall, one forgot the front of the -house and thought only of the beautiful expanse of water that seemed -to shut off all approach save from the gulls. News from the humming -city must come to you, it would seem, only in sound of marriage or -funeral bells in the steeples of the many towns, distinct but distant, -looming across the water. And this, not because the talk by that -cheerful fire was of the “Over-Soul” or the “Infinite,” so unworldly, -so introspective, so wholly of things foreign or intellectual. Nothing -could be more human than the chat that went on there, or the laugh that -rang out so cheerily at such frequent intervals. Even with the shadow -of a deep personal grief over the hearthstone, a noble cheerfulness -that would not let others feel the shadow kept the room bright though -the heart was heavy. Are there pictures? There is certainly one -picture; for although a fine Copley hangs on one wall, and one of the -beautiful framed embroideries (for which Dr. Holmes’s daughter-in-law -is famous) on another, who will not first be conscious that in a -certain corner hangs the original portrait of Dorothy Q.? Exactly as -it is described in the poem, who can look at it without breathing -gratefully - - “O Damsel Dorothy, Dorothy Q., - Great is the gift _we_ owe to you,” - -and thinking almost with a shudder that if, - - “a hundred years ago, - Those close-shut lips had answered No,” - -there would have been no Dr. Holmes. Somebody there might have been; -but though he had been only “one-tenth another to nine-tenths” _him_, -assuredly the loss of even a tenth would have been a bitter loss. - -Books there are in this library, of course; but you were as little -conscious of the books as you were of the world. You were only really -conscious of the presence in the room, and the big desk on which was -lying the pen that wrote both “The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table” -and “The Professor.” As you took it up, it was pretty to see the look -that stole over Dr. Holmes’s face; it was the twinkle of a smile that -seemed to mean, “Yes, it was the pen that did it! _I_ never could -have done it in the world!” His success gave him a deep and genuine -pleasure, largely due to the surprise of it. At forty-six he believed -he had done all that could be expected of him, and was content to rest -his reputation--as well he might--on those earlier poems, which will -always make a part of even his latest fame. But the greater fame which -followed was--not greatness thrust upon him, for genius such as his -is something more than the patience which is sometimes genius,--but -certainly greatness _dragged out of him_. The editors of the proposed -_Atlantic_ insisted that he should write for it. The Doctor did not -yield, till, as he himself tells it, with another twinkling smile, -they invited him to a “convincing dinner at Porter’s.” Feeling very -good-natured immediately after, he promised to “try,” and a little -later sent off a few sheets which he somewhat dubiously hoped would -“do.” The storm of greeting and applause that followed even these -first sheets filled him with amazement, but with genuine delight. It -was beautiful to see how deeply it touched him to know that thousands -of readers think “The Autocrat” the most charming book they own. For -this was not the arrogant satisfaction of the “master” who announces: -“Listen! I have composed the most wonderful sonata that the world has -ever heard!” Still less was it the senseless arrogance of a foolish -violin that might say: “Listen! you shall hear from me the most superb -music you can imagine!” Rather was it the low-voiced, wondering content -of an æolian harp, that lying quietly upon the window-sill, with no -thought that it is there for anything but to enjoy itself, suddenly -finds wonderful harmonies stealing through its heart and out into the -world, and sees a group of gladdened listeners gathering about it. “How -wonderful! how wonderful that I have been chosen to give this music to -the world! Am I not greatly to be envied?” As the harp thus breathes -its gratitude to the breeze that stirs it, so Dr. Holmes looked his -gratitude to the pen that “helped” him; with something of the same -wonder at personal success that made Thackeray exclaim: “Down on your -knees, my boy! That is the house where I wrote ‘Vanity Fair’!” Do we -not all love Thackeray and Holmes the better for caring so much about -our caring for them? - -But it is growing late and dark. Across the river--one almost says -across the bay--the lights are twinkling, and we must go. As the cool -breeze touches our faces, how strange it seems to see the paved and -lighted street, the crowding houses, the throng of carriages, and to -realize that the great, throbbing, fashionable world has been so near -to us all the afternoon while we have been so far from it! - -Now, as we go down the steps, a sudden consciousness strikes us of what -very pleasant places Boston literary lines seem to fall into! Is it -that literary people are more fortunate in Boston, or that in Boston -only the fortunate people are literary? For as we think of brilliant -names associated with Beacon Street, Boylston Street, Commonwealth -Avenue, Newbury and Marlborough Streets, it certainly seems as if the -Bohemia of plain living and high thinking--so prominent a feature -of New York literary and artistic life--had hardly a foothold in -aristocratic, literary Boston. - -Finally, if it seems wonderful that living almost exclusively in one -locality, Dr. Holmes should have succeeded as few have succeeded in -dealing with the mysteries of universal human nature, still more -wonderful is it, perhaps, that dealing very largely with the foibles -and follies of human nature, nothing that he ever wrote has given -offence. True, this is partly owing to his in tense unwillingness to -hurt the feelings of any human being. No fame for saying brilliant -things that came to this gentlest of autocrats and most genial of -gentlemen, tinged with a possibility that any one had winced under his -pen, seemed to him of any value, or gave him any pleasure. But, as a -matter of fact, no bore has ever read anything Dr. Holmes has written -about bores with the painful consciousness, “Alas! I was that bore!” -We may take to ourselves a good deal that he says, but never with a -sense of shame or humiliation. On the contrary, we laugh the most -sincerely of any one, and say “Of course! that is exactly it! Why, -I have done that thing myself a thousand times!” And so the genial, -keen-eyed master of human nature writes with impunity how difficult -he finds it to love his neighbor properly till he gets away from him, -and tells us how he hates to have his best friend hunt him up in the -cars and sit down beside him, and explains that, although a radical, -he finds he enjoys the society of those who believe more than he does -better than that of those who believe less; and neighbor and best -friend, radical and conservative, laugh alike and alike enjoy the joke, -each only remembering how _he_ finds it hard to love _his_ neighbor, -and how _he_ hates to talk in the cars. The restless “interviewer,” who -may perhaps have gained entrance to the pleasant library, never found -himself treated, after he left, with any less courtesy than that which -allowed him to be happy while he was “interviewing,” to the misery of -his hapless victim. The pen that “never dared to be as funny as it -could be,” never permitted itself to be as witty as it might have been, -at the expense of any suffering to others. The gentle Doctor, when the -interviewer was gone, turned again to his ducks in the beautiful aviary -outside his window, and only vented his long-suffering in some general -remark thrown carelessly in, as he describes how the bird - - Sees a flat log come floating down the stream; - Stares undismayed upon the harmless stranger;-- - Ah! were _all_ strangers harmless as they seem! - -And the very latest stranger who may have inflicted the blow that drew -out that gentlest of remonstrances, would be the first to laugh and to -enjoy the remonstrance as a joke! - -And so came to the Autocrat what he prized as the very best of all his -fame--the consciousness that he never made a “hit” that could wound. So -truly was this his temperament, that if you praised some of the fine -lines of his noble poem on “My Aviary,” he would say gently: “But don’t -you think the best line is where I spare the feelings of the duck?” and -you remember,-- - - Look quick! there’s one just diving! - And while he’s under--just about a minute-- - I take advantage of the fact to say - His fishy carcase has no virtue in it, - The gunning idiot’s worthless hire to pay. - -And not even “while they are under” would Dr. Holmes ridicule his -fellow-men. It is never _we_ whom he was laughing at: it is simply -human nature on its funny side; and it is a curious fact that none -of us resent being considered to have the foibles of human nature -provided they are not made to appear personal foibles. So, while -remembering the intensity of the pleasure he has given us, let us -remember, what he would care far more to hear, that he has never given -any of us anything _but_ pleasure. - - ALICE WELLINGTON ROLLINS. - - - - - JULIA WARD HOWE - - - - - JULIA WARD HOWE - - AT “OAK GLEN,” NEWPORT - - -To those persons who have only visited the town of Newport, taken its -ocean drive, lunched at its Casino, strolled on its beach, and stared -at its fine carriages and the fine people in them, that fill Bellevue -Avenue of an afternoon, the idea of choosing Newport as a place to -rest in must seem a very singular one. If their visit be a brief one, -they may easily fail to discover that after leaving the limits of the -gay summer city, with its brilliant social life, its polo matches, its -races, balls, dinners, and fêtes, there still remains a district, some -twelve miles in length, of the most rural character. The land here is -principally owned by small farmers, who raise, and sell at exorbitant -and unrural prices, the fruit, vegetables, eggs, milk, butter and -cream which the Newport market-men, adding a liberal percentage, sell -again to their summer customers. The interior of the island is in many -respects the most agreeable part of it; the climate is better, being -much freer from heavy fogs and sea mists, and the thermometer neither -rises so high nor falls so low as in the town. The neighborhood of -Lawton’s Valley is one of the most charming and healthy parts; and it -is in this spot that Mrs. Howe has, for many years, made her summer -home. The house stands a little removed from the cross-road which -connects the East and West Roads, the two thoroughfares that traverse -the island from Newport to Bristol Ferry. Behind the house there is a -grove of trees--oaks, willows, maples, and pines--which is the haunt of -many singing birds. The quiet house seems to be the centre of a circle -of song, and the earliest hint of day is announced by their morning -chorus. In this glen “The Mistress of the Valley,” as Mrs. Howe has -styled herself, in one of her poems, spends many of her leisure hours, -during the six months which she usually passes at her summer home. Here -she sits with her books and needle-work, and of an afternoon there -is reading aloud, and much pleasant talk under the trees; sometimes -a visitor comes from town, over the five long miles of country road; -but this is not so common an occurrence as to take away from the -excitement created by the ringing of the door-bell. There are lotus -trees at Oak Glen, but its mistress can not be said to eat thereof, for -she is never idle, and what she calls rest would be thought by many -people to be very hard work. She rests herself, after the work of the -day, by reading her Greek books, which have given her the greatest -intellectual enjoyment of the later years of her life. In the summer -of 1886 she studied Plato in the original, and last year she read the -plays of Sophocles. - -The day’s routine is something in this order: Breakfast, in the -American fashion, at eight o’clock, and then a stroll about the place, -after which the household duties are attended to; and then a long -morning of work. Letter-writing, which--with the family correspondence, -business matters, the autograph fiends and the letter cranks--is a -heavy burthen, is attended to first; and then whatever literary work -is on the anvil is labored at steadily and uninterruptedly until one -o’clock, when the great event of the day occurs. This is the arrival -of the mail, which is brought from town by Jackson Carter, a neighbor, -who combines the functions of local mail-carrier, milkman, expressman, -vender of early vegetables, and purveyor of gossip generally; to which -he adds the duty of touting for an African Methodist church. Jackson is -of the African race, and though he signs his name with a cross, he is -a shrewd, intelligent fellow, and is quite a model of industry. After -the newspapers and the letters have been digested, comes the early -dinner, followed by coffee served in the green parlor, which is quite -the most important apartment of the establishment. It is an open-air -parlor, in the shape of a semicircle, set about with a close, tall -green hedge, and shaded by the spreading boughs of an ancient mulberry -tree. Its inmates are completely shielded from the sight of any chance -passers-by; and in its quiet shade they often overhear the comments -of the strangers on the road outside, to whom the house is pointed -out. It was in this small paradise that “Mr. Isaacs” was written, and -read aloud to Mrs. Howe, chapter by chapter, as it was written by her -nephew, Marion Crawford. Sometimes there is reading aloud from the -newspapers and reviews here, and then the busiest woman in all Newport -goes back to her sanctum for two more working hours; after which she -either drives or walks till sunset. - -If it is a drive, it will be, most likely, an expedition to the town, -where some household necessity must be bought, or some visit is to be -paid. If a stroll is the order of the day, it will be either across -the fields to a hill-top near by, from which a wonderful view of the -island and the bay is to be had, or along the country road, past the -schoolhouse, and towards Mrs. Howe’s old home, Lawton’s Valley. In -these sunset rambles, Mrs. Howe is very sure to be accompanied by one -or more of her grandchildren, four of whom, with their mother, Mrs. -Hall, pass the summers at Oak Glen. She finds the children excellent -company, and they look forward to the romp which follows the twilight -stroll as the greatest delight of the day. The romp takes place in the -drawing-room, where the rugs are rolled up, and the furniture moved -back against the wall, leaving the wooden floor bare for the dancing -and prancing of the little feet. Mrs. Howe takes her place at the -piano, strikes the chords of an exhilarating Irish jig, and the little -company, sometimes enlarged by a contingent of the Richards cousins -from Maine, dance and jig about with all the grace and _abandon_ of -childhood. After supper, when the children are at last quiet and tucked -up in their little beds, there is more music--either with the piano, in -the drawing-room, or, if it is a warm night, on the piazza, with the -guitar. As the evenings grow longer, in the late summer and autumn, -there is much reading aloud, but only from novels of the most amusing, -sensational or romantic description. None others are admitted; after -the long day of work and study, relaxation and diversion are the two -things needed. I have observed that with most hard literary workers and -speculative thinkers, this class of novel is most in demand. The more -intellectual romances are greedily devoured by people whose customary -occupations lead them into the realm of actualities, and whose working -hours are devoted to some practical business. - -Last year Mrs. Howe had at heart the revival of the Town and Country -Club, of which she is the originator and President, and which in 1886 -had omitted its meetings. These meetings, which take place fortnightly -during the season, are held at the houses of different members, and -are both social and intellectual in character. The substantial part -of the feast is served first, in the form of a lecture or paper from -some distinguished person, after which there are refreshments, and talk -of an informal character. Among others who in past seasons have read -before the Club are Bret Harte, Prof. Agassiz, the Rev. Edward Everett -Hale, the late Wm. B. Rogers, Mark Twain, Charles Godfrey Leland (“Hans -Breitmann”), and the Rev. Drs. James Freeman Clarke, Frederic H. Hedge -and George Ellis. - -Mrs. Howe’s work for the summer of 1887 included a paper on a subject -connected with the Greek drama, to be read at the Concord School of -Philosophy, and an essay for the Woman’s Congress which was held in the -early fall. She is much interested in the arts and industries of women, -and in connection with these maintains a wide correspondence. But it is -not all work and no play, even at such a busy place as Oak Glen. There -are whole days of delightful leisure. Sometimes these are spent on the -water on board of some friend’s yacht; or a less pretentious catboat -is chartered, which conveys Mrs. Howe and her guests to Conanicut, or -to Jamestown, where the day is spent beside the waves. Last summer a -beautiful schooner yacht was lent to Mrs. Howe for ten days, and a -glorious cruise was made, under the most smiling of summer skies. A day -on the water is the thing that is most highly enjoyed by the denizens -of Oak Glen; but there are other days hardly less delightful, spent in -some out-of-the-way rural spot, where picnics are not forbidden, though -these, alas! are becoming rare, since the churlish notice was posted -up at Glen Anna, forbidding all trespassing on these grounds, which, -time out of mind, have been free to all who loved them. There are still -the Paradise Rocks, near the house of Edwin Booth, and thither an -expedition is occasionally made. - -Country life is not without its drawbacks and troubles; but these are -not so very heavy after all, compared with some of the tribulations of -the city, or of those who place themselves at the mercy of summer hotel -keepers and boarding-house ladies. The old white pony, Mingo, _will_ -get into the vegetable garden occasionally, and eat off the heads of -the asparagus, and trample down the young corn; the neighbor’s pig -sometimes gets through the weak place in the wall, with all her pinky -progeny behind her, and takes possession of the very best flower-bed; -the honeysuckle vine does need training; and the grapes will not ripen -as well as they would have done, if the new trellis projected recently -had been set up. But after all, taking into consideration the fact -that Io, the Jersey cow, is giving ten quarts of rich milk a day, and -that the new cook has mastered the simplest and most delightful of -dishes--Newport corn-meal flap-jacks,--Mrs. Howe’s life at Oak Glen -is as peaceful and happy an existence as one is apt to find in these -nihilistic days of striking hotel waiters and crowded summer resorts. - -Beautiful as Newport is in these soft days of early summer, it is even -lovelier in the autumn, and every year it is harder to leave Oak Glen, -to give up the wide arc of the heavens, and to look up into God’s sky, -between the two lines of brick houses of a city street. Each winter -the place at Newport is kept open a little longer, and it is only the -closing days of November that find Mrs. Howe established in her house -in Boston. Beacon Street, with its smooth macadamized roadway, whereon -there is much pleasure driving, and in the winter a perfect sleighing -carnival, is as pleasant a street as it is possible to live on, but a -country road is always a better situation than a city street, and a -forest path perhaps is best of all. When she is once settled in her -Boston home, the manifold interests of the complex city life claim -every hour in the day. Her remarkable powers of endurance, her splendid -enjoyment of life and health make her winters as full of pleasure -as the more peaceful summer-tide. It is a very different life from -that led at Oak Glen; it has an endless variety of interests, social, -private, public, charitable, philanthropic, musical, artistic, and -intellectual. A half-dozen clubs and associations of women in the city -and its near vicinity, which owe their existence in large part to Mrs. -Howe’s efforts, claim her presence in their midst at least once in -every year. - -Among the public occasions which have held the greatest interest for -Mrs. Howe of late years was the dedication of the new Kindergarten for -the Blind in 1887, at which she read one of her happiest “occasional -poems.” The authors’ reading in aid of the Longfellow memorial fund, -at the Boston Museum, where, before an audience the like of which had -never before been seen in the theatre, she read a poem in memory of -Longfellow, was an occasion which will not soon be forgotten by those -who were present. Mrs. Howe was the only woman who took part in the -proceedings, the other authors who read from their own works being Dr. -Holmes, Mr. Lowell, Mark Twain, Colonel Higginson, Prof. Norton, Mr. -E. E. Hale, Mr. Aldrich and Mr. Howells. Mrs. Howe has spoken several -times at the Nineteenth Century Club, and she is always glad to revisit -New York, for though she is often thought to be a Bostonian, she never -forgets that the first twenty years of her life were passed in New -York, the city of her birth. - - MAUD HOWE. - - [Illustration] - - - - - MR. HOWELLS - - - - - MR. HOWELLS - - IN BEACON STREET, BOSTON - - -If any one wants to live in a city street, I do not see how he can well -find a pleasanter one than Beacon Street, Boston. Its older houses come -down Beacon Hill, past the Common and the Public Garden, in single -file, like quaint Continentals on parade, who, being few, have to make -the most of themselves. Then it forms in double file again and goes -on a long way, out toward the distant Brookline hills, which close -in the view. Howells’s number is 302. In this Back Bay district of -made ground, the favored West End of the newer city, you cannot help -wondering how it is that all about you is in so much better taste than -in New York--so much handsomer, neater, more homelike and engaging than -our shabby Fifth Avenue. Beacon Street is stately; so is Marlborough -Street, that runs next parallel to it; and even more so is Commonwealth -Avenue--with its lines of trees down the centre, like a Paris -boulevard,--next beyond it. The eye traverses long fretworks of good -architectural design, and there is no feature to jar upon the quiet -elegance and respectability. The houses seem like those of people in -some such prosperous foreign towns as the newer Liverpool, Düsseldorf -or Louvain. The comfortable horizontal line prevails. There are green -front doors, and red brick, and brass knockers. A common pattern of -approach is to have a step or two outside, and a few more within the -vestibule. That abomination, the ladder-like “high stoop” of New York, -seems unknown. - -These are the scenes amid which Mr. Howells takes his walks abroad. -From his front windows he may see the upper-class types about which he -has written--the Boston girl, “with something of the nice young fellow -about her,” the Chance Acquaintance, with his eye-glass, the thin, -elderly, patrician Coreys, the blooming, philanthropic Miss Kingsbury. -The fictitious Silas Lapham built in this same quarter the mansion -with which he was to consolidate his social aspirations. Perhaps some -may have thought it identical with that of Howells, so close are the -sites, and so feelingly does the author speak--as if from personal -experience--of dealings with an architect, and the like. But Howells’s -abode does not savor of the architect, nor of the mansion. It is a -builder’s house, though even the builder, in Boston, does not rid -himself of the general tradition of comfort and solidity. Dr. Oliver -Wendell Holmes lived in a house but little different, two doors above. -That of Howells is plain and wide, of red brick, three stories and -mansard roof, with a long iron balcony under the parlor windows. Its -chief adornment is a vine of Japanese ivy, which climbs half the entire -height of the façade. The singular thing about this vine is, that it is -not planted in his own ground, but a section in that of his neighbor -on each side. It charmingly drapes his wall, while growing but thinly -on theirs, and forms a clear case of “natural selection” which might -properly almost render its owners discontented enough to cut it down. -The leaves, as I saw them, touched by the autumn, glowed with crimson -like sumac. The house is approached by steps of easy grade. There is -a little reception-room at the left of the hall, and the dining-room -is on the same floor. You mount a flight of stairs, and come to the -library and study, at the back, and the parlor in front. - -_Vlan!_ as the French have it--what a flood of light in this study! The -shades of the three wide windows are drawn up to the very top; it is -like being at the seaside; there are no owlish habits about a writer -who can stand this. It is, in fact, the seaside, so why should it not -seem like it? The bold waters of the Back Bay, a wide basin of the -Charles River, dash up to the very verge of the small dooryard, in -which the clothes hang out to dry. It looks as if they might some day -take a notion to come in and call on the cook in the kitchen, or even -lift up the whole establishment bodily, and land it on some new Ararat. -This stretch of water is thought to resemble the canal of the Guidecca, -at Venice; Henry James, with others, has certified to the view as -Venetian. You take the Cambridge gas-works for Palladio’s domes, and -Bunker Hill Monument, which is really more like a shot-tower, for a -_campanile_; and then, at sunset, when the distant buildings are black -upon the glowing, ruddy sky, the analogy is not so very remote. All -the buildings on this new-made land are set upon piles, and the tides, -in a measure, flow under them twice a day. It was a serious question -at the beginning, whether there should not be canals here instead of -streets; but, considering that the canals would be frozen up a large -part of the year, the verdict was against them. I am rather sorry for -this: it would have been interesting to see what kind of gondoliers the -Boston hackmen and car-drivers would have made. Would they have worn -uniforms? Would they have sung, to avoid collisions, in rounding the -corners of Exeter and Fairfield streets? Ah me! for those plaintive -ballads that might have been? It would have been interesting to -see the congregation of Phillips Brooks’s church--the much-vaunted -Trinity--going to service by water, and the visitors to the Art Museum, -and the students to the Institute of Technology. All these are but -a stone’s-throw from Howells. Howells may congratulate himself on a -greater solidity for his share of the land than most, for fifty years -ago, when there were tide-mills in this neighborhood, it was the site -of a toll-house. _Terra firma_, all about him, has an antiquity of but -from twelve to twenty years. His house is perhaps a dozen years old, -and he has owned it but four. - -Ste. Beuve, the most felicitous of critics, wishes to know a man in -order to understand his work. I hardly think the demand a fair one; -there ought to be enough in every piece of good work to stand for -itself, and its maker ought to have the right to be judged at the level -that the work represents, rather than in his personal situation, which -may often be even mean or ridiculous. Nevertheless, if it be desired, -I know of no one more capable of standing the test than William Dean -Howells. Perhaps I incline to a certain friendly bias--though possibly -even a little extreme in this may be pardoned, for surely no one is -more unreasonably carped at than he nowadays,--but he impresses me as -corresponding to the ideal of what greatness ought to be; how it ought -to look and act. He not only is, but appears, really great. In the -personal conduct of his life, too, he confirms what is best in his -books. Thus, there are no obscurities to be cleared up; no stories to -be heard of egotism, selfishness or greed towards his contemporaries; -there is nothing to be passed over in discreet silence. He has an -open and generous nature, the most polished yet unassuming manners, -and an impressive presence, which is deprived of anything formidable -by a rare geniality. In looks, he is about the middle height, rather -square built, with a fine, Napoleonic head, which seems capable of -containing any thing. I have seen none of his many portraits that does -him justice. Few men with his opportunities have done so much, or been -so quick to recognize original merit and struggling aspiration. There -is no trace in him of uneasiness at the success of others, of envy -towards rivals--though, indeed, it would be hard to say, from the very -beginning of his career, where any rivals in his own peculiar vein -were to be found. Such a largeness of conduct is surely one of the -indications of genius, a part of the serene calm which is content to -wait for its own triumph and forbear push or artifice to hasten it. - -To write of Howells “at home” seems to write particularly of Howells. -There is a great deal of the homely and the home-keeping feeling in -his books, which has had to do with making him the chosen novelist of -the intelligent masses. To one who knows this and his personal habits, -it would not seem most proper to look for him in courts or camps, in -lively clubs, at dinners, on the rostrum, or in any of the noisier -assemblages of men. (Even in his journeyings, in those charming books, -“Venetian Life” and “Florentine Mosaics,” he is a saunterer and gentle -satirist, without the fire and zeal of the genuine traveler.) All these -he enjoys, no one more so, at the proper time and occasion, but one -would seek him most naturally in the quiet of his domestic circle. And -even there the most fitting place seems yonder desk, where the work -awaits him over which but now his thoughtful brow was bending. He is a -novelist for the genuine love of it, and not in the way of arrogance -or parade, nor even for its rewards, substantial for him though they -are. One would say that the greatest of his pleasures was to follow, -through all their ramifications, the problems of life and character he -sets himself to study. In a talk I had with him some time ago, he said, -incidentally: “Supposing there were a fire in the street, the people in -the houses would run out in terror or amazement. All finer shades of -character would be lost; they would be merged, for the nonce, in the -common animal impulse. No; to truly study character, you must study -men in the lesser and more ordinary circumstances of their lives; then -it is displayed untrammeled.” - -This may almost serve as a brief statement of his theory in literature, -which has been the cause, of late, of such heated discussion in two -hemispheres. And if a man is to be judged by the circumstances of his -daily life, surely it is no more than fair to apply the method to its -advocate himself. There is nothing cobwebby, no dust of antiquity, -nor medievalism, in this study and library; it is almost as modern in -effect as Silas Lapham’s famous warehouse of mineral paints. Howells -has “let the dead past bury its dead”; he is intensely concerned with -the present and the future. The strong light from the windows shows in -the cases only a random series of books in ephemeral-looking bindings. -There are Baedecker’s guides, dictionaries, pamphlets, and current -fiction. The only semblance of a “collection” in which he indulges is -some literature of foreign languages, which he uses as his tools. He -has done lately the great service of introducing to us many of the -masterpieces of modern Italian and Spanish fiction, in his Editor’s -Study in _Harper’s Magazine_ also. He was long preparing, and has -lately published, a series of papers on the modern Italian poets. -He cares nothing for bindings, or the rarities of the bibliophile’s -art. The only feeling he is heard to express toward books, as such, -is that he does not like to see even the humblest of them abused. In -his house you find no noticeable blue china or Chippendale, no trace -of the bric-à-brac enthusiasm, of which we had occasion to speak at -the home of Aldrich. In his parlor are tables and chairs, perfectly -proper and comfortable, but worthy of no attention in themselves. -On the walls are some few old paintings from Florence, a pleasing -photograph or two, an original water-color by Fortuny, which has a -little history, and an engraving after Alma Tadema, presented by the -painter to the author. These are a concession to the fine arts, not a -surrender to them. Perhaps we may connect this as an indication with -the strong moral purpose of his books, his resolute refusal to postpone -the essential and earnest in conduct to the soft and decorative. He -proposes, at times, as the worldly will have it, ideals that seem -almost fantastically impracticable. - -I am speaking too much, perhaps, of this latest home, occupied for -so brief a time. It is not the only one in which he has ever dwelt. -Howells was born in Ohio in 1837. He was the son of a country editor. -He saw many hardships in those days, but there was influence enough to -have him appointed consul to Venice, under Lincoln. He married, while -still consul, a lady of a prominent Vermont Family. The newspapers -will have it from time to time that Mrs. Howells is a great critic -of and assistant in his works. I shall only say of this, that she is -of an agreeable character, and an intelligence and animation that -seem fully capable of it. On returning to this country he took up his -residence for a while in New York, and brightened the columns of _The -Nation_ with some of its earliest literary contributions. He had for -some time written poems. These attracted the attention of Lowell, who -was editor of _The Atlantic_. He became Mr. Field’s assistant in 1866, -when the latter assumed the editorship, and in 1872 succeeded to the -chief place, in which he continued till 1881, when he resigned it to be -followed by Aldrich. During this time of editorship, he lived mainly at -Cambridge, first in a small house he purchased on Sacramento Street, -and later, for some years, in one on Concord Avenue, which he built and -still owns. This latter was a pleasant, serviceable cottage, a good -place to work, but with nothing particularly striking about it. It was -there I first saw him, having brought him, with due fear and awe, my -first novel, “Detmold.” But how little reason for awe it proved there -really was! Nobody was ever more courteous, unaffected and reassuring -than he. I remember we took a short walk afterwards, a part of my way -homeward. He pretended, as we reached Harvard College, that it would -not be safe for me to entertain any opinions differing from his own, on -the mooted question of the heavy roof of the new Memorial Hall, since -the fate of my manuscript was in his dictatorial hands! - -From Cambridge he removed to the pretty suburb of Belmont, some five -miles out of Boston, to a house built for him by Mr. Charles Fairchild, -on that gentleman’s own estate. This house, called Red Top, from its -red roof and the red timothy grass in the neighborhood, was described -and pictured some years ago in _Harper’s Magazine_, in Mr. Lathrop’s -article on Literary and Social Boston. As I recollect it, this was the -most elaborate of his several abodes. There were carried out many of -the luxurious decorative features so essential according to the modern -ideal. He had a study done in white in the colonial taste, and a square -entrance-hall with benches and fire-place; but I fancy, even here, he -enjoyed most the wide view from his windows, and his walks in the hilly -country. It was the eye of the imagination rather than of the body that -with him most sought gratification. He lived on the hillside at Belmont -four years. His moving away from there about coincides with the time -of his giving up the editing of _The Atlantic_. He went abroad with -his family, remained a year, and then returned to Boston. It will be -seen that he has not shown much more than the usual American fixity of -residence, and perhaps we need not despair of his finally coming to New -York, to which many of his later interests would seem to call him. - -With his retirement from the burden of editing begins, as many think, a -new and larger period in his literary work. I am not to touch upon his -original theories of literary art, or to interpret the much talked-of -_mot_ on Dickens and Thackeray. As to the latter, I know that so -magnanimous and appreciative a nature as his could never have really -intended to cast a slur upon exalted merit. He has an intense delight -in human life, as it is lived, and not as represented by historians or -antiquarians, or colored by conventional or academic tradition of any -kind. He is still so young a man and so powerful a genius that it may -well be a yet grander period is opening before him. For my own part, I -never quite get over the liking for the “Robinson Crusoe” touch, the -“once upon a time,” the poem, as it were, in the fiction I read, and -I think shall continue to like best of his stories “The Undiscovered -Country,” in which the feeling of romance--together with all the -reality of life--most prevails. However this may be, I cannot always -repress a certain impatience that there should be any who fail to see -his extraordinary ability; it seems to me it can only be because there -is some veil before their eyes, because they have not put themselves in -the way of taking the right point of view. Whether we like it best of -all fiction or not, where are we to find another who works with such -power? Where, if we deny him the first place, zealously look up all his -defects, and take issue with him on a dozen minor points, are we to -find another so original and creative a writer? - -He writes only in the morning, his work being done conscientiously -and with painstaking. After that he devotes himself to his family, to -whom he is greatly attached, and of whom he is justly proud. Besides -a son, who is to be an architect, there is a daughter, who inclines -to the literary taste; and another, a sweet-faced little maid, known -to fame through the publication of a series of her remarkable, naïve, -childish drawings, in the volume entitled “A Little Girl Among the Old -Masters.” Their father is not a voluble talker; he does not aspire to -shine; there is little that is Macaulayish, there are few _tours de -force_ in his conversation. On the other hand, he has what some one -has described as the dangerous trait of being an excellent listener. -It might be said of him, as it was of Mme. Récamier, that he listens -with _séduction_. He is not bent upon displaying his own resources, -but possibly upon penetrating the mind and heart before him. Perhaps -this is the natural, receptive mood of the true student of character. -And then it is all so gracefully done, with such a sympathy and tact, -that when, afterwards, you come to reflect that you have been talking -a great deal too much for your own good, there comes, too, with the -flush, the reassuring fancy that perhaps, after all, you have done it -pretty well. His own conversation I should call marked by sincerity of -statement and earnestness in speculation, at the same time that it is -brightened by the most genial play of humor. His humor warms like the -sunshine; we all know how steely cold may be the brilliancy of mere -wit. He is a humorist, I sometimes think, almost before everything -else. He takes to the humorists (even those of the broader kind) with -a kindred feeling. Both Mark Twain and Warner have been his intimate -friends. He wanted to know Stockton and Gilbert before he had met -them. In this connection, I may close, apropos of him, with one of the -slighter _bons mots_ of Gilbert. On the first visit of that celebrity -to this country, in company with his collaborator, Sullivan, he chanced -to ask me something about the works of Howells. In reply, I mentioned -among others “Their Wedding Journey”--a book that every young couple -put into their baggage when starting off on the tour. “Sullivan and I -are not such a very young couple,” returned Gilbert, “but I think we’ll -have to put one into our baggage, too.” - - WILLIAM HENRY BISHOP. - -[Mr. Howells now lives in apartments in New York, where he is editor -of “The Easy Chair” in _Harper’s Monthly_ and a contributor to various -magazines.--EDITORS.] - - - - - CHARLES GODFREY LELAND - - - - - CHARLES GODFREY LELAND - - IN PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON - - -To describe the home of a homeless man is not over easy. For the last -sixteen or eighteen years Mr. Leland has been as great a wanderer as -the gypsies of whom he loves to write. During this time he has pitched -his tent, so to speak, in many parts of America and Europe and even of -the East. He has gone from town to town and from country to country, -staying here a month and there a year, and again in some places, as -in London and Philadelphia, he has remained several years. But, as he -himself graphically says, it is long since he has not had trunks in his -bedroom. - -However, if to possess a house is to have a home, then Mr. -Leland must not be said to be homeless. He owns a three-storied, -white-and-green-shuttered, red-brick house with marble steps, of that -conventional type which is so peculiarly a feature of Philadelphia--his -native town. It is in Locust Street above Fifteenth--one of the -eminently respectable and convenient neighborhoods for which -Philadelphia is famous, with St. Mark’s Church near at hand and a -public school not far off. But besides this respectability which -Philadelphians in general hold so dear, Locust Street boasts of another -advantage of far more importance to Mr. Leland in particular. Just -here it is without the horse-car track which stretches from one end -to the other of almost all Philadelphia streets, and hence it is a -pleasant, quiet quarter for a literary man. Here Mr. Leland lived -for just six months, surrounded by all sorts of quaint ornaments and -oddities (though it was then years before the mania for bric-à-brac had -set in), and by his books, these including numbers of rare and racy -volumes from which he has borrowed so many of the quotations which -give an Old World color and piquancy to his writings. It was while he -was living in his Locust Street home that his health broke down. His -illness was the result of long, almost uninterrupted newspaper work. -He had worked on the _Bulletin_ and on New York and Boston papers, -and he had edited _Vanity Fair_, _The Continental Monthly_, _Grahams -Magazine_ and Forney’s _Press_. In addition to this regular work, he -had found time to translate Heine, to write his “Sunshine in Thought,” -his “Meister Karl’s Sketch-book,” and his “Breitmann Ballads,” which -had made him known throughout the English-speaking world as one of the -first living English humorists. But now he was obliged to give up all -literary employments, and, having inherited an independent fortune from -his father, he was able to shut up his house and go on a pleasure-trip -to Europe, where he began the wanderings which have not yet ceased. - -Nowadays, therefore, one might well ask, “Where is his home?--in a -Philadelphia hotel or lodgings, or at the Langham, in London--in a -gypsy tent, or in an Indian wigwam?--on the road, or in the town?” But, -_ubi bene, ibi patria_; where a man is happy, there is his country; and -his home too, for that matter; and Mr. Leland, if he has his work, is -happy in all places and at all times; and furthermore, ever since his -health was re-established, he has found or made work where-ever he has -been. He is a man who is never idle for a minute, and he counts as the -best and most important work of his life that which has occupied him -during the last few years. Consequently, paradoxical as it may sound, -even in his wanderings he has always been at home. During the eleven -years he remained abroad he lived in so many different places it would -be impossible to enumerate them all. He spent a winter in Russia; -another in Egypt; he summered on the Continent, and in the pretty -villages or gay seashore towns of England. At times his principal -headquarters were in London, now at the Langham and now at Park Square. -It was at this latter residence that he gave Saturday afternoon -receptions, at which one was sure to meet the most eminent men and -women of the literary and artistic world of London, and which will not -soon be forgotten by those who had the pleasure to be bidden to them. -The first part of his last book about the gypsies is a pleasant, but -still imperfect, guide to his wanderings of this period. There, in one -paper, we find him spending charming evenings with the fair Russian -gypsies in St. Petersburg; in another, giving greeting to the Hungarian -Romanies who played their wild _czardas_ at the Paris Exposition. Or we -can follow his peaceful strolls through the English meadows and lanes -near Oatlands Park, or his adventures with his not over-respectable but -very attractive friends at the Hampton races. One gypsy episode carries -him to Aberistwyth, a second to Brighton, a third to London streets or -his London study. Thus he tells the tale, as no one else could, of his -life on the road. - -In December, 1878, he returned to Philadelphia, where he established -himself in large and pleasant rooms in Broad Street, not knowing -how long he might stay in America, and unwilling, because of this -uncertainty, to settle down in his own house. He lived there, however, -for four years and a half, travelling but little save in the summer, -when, to escape from the burning brick-oven which Philadelphia becomes -at that season, he fled to Rye Beach or to the White Mountains, to -Mount Desert or to far Campobello, in New Brunswick, where, in the -tents almost hidden by the sweet pine woods, he listened to the -Algonkin legends which he published in book form three or four years -ago. The house in which he made his home for the time being is a large -red brick mansion on the left side of Broad Street, between Locust -and Walnut streets. His apartments were on the ground floor, and the -table at which he worked, writing his Indian book or making the designs -for the series of art manuals he was then editing, was drawn close to -one of the windows looking out upon the street. There, between the -hours of nine and one in the morning, he was usually to be found. From -the street one could in passing catch a glimpse of the fine strong -head which so many artists have cared to draw, and which Le Gros has -etched; of the long gray beard, and of the brown velveteen coat--not -that famous coat to which Mr. Leland bade so tender a farewell in his -gypsy book, but another, already endeared to him by many a lively -recollection of gypsy camps and country fairs. Here there was little -quiet to be had. Broad Street is at all times noisy, and it is moreover -the favorite route for all the processions, military or political, -by torchlight or by daylight, that ever rejoice the hearts of -Philadelphia’s children. It is a haunt, too, of pitiless organ-grinders -and importunate beggars. Well I remember the wretched woman who set -up her stand, and her tuneless organ, but a few steps beyond Mr. -Leland’s window, grinding away there day after day, indifferent to -expostulations and threats, until at last the civil authorities had -to be appealed to. For how much unwritten humor, for how many undrawn -designs, she is responsible, who can say? But then, on the other hand, -the window had its advantages. Stray gypsies could not pass unseen, and -from it friendly tinkers could be easily summoned within. But for this -post of observation I doubt if Owen Macdonald, the tinker, would have -paid so many visits to Mr. Leland’s rooms, and hence if he would have -proved so valuable an assistant in the preparation of the dictionary -of _shelta_, or tinker’s talk, a Celtic language lately discovered by -Mr. Leland. “Pat” (or Owen) was a genuine tinker, and “no tinker was -ever yet astonished at anything.” He never made remarks about the room -into which he was invited, but I often wondered what he thought of it, -with its piles of books and drawings and papers, and its walls covered -with grotesquely decorated placques and strange musical instruments, -from a lute of Mr. Leland’s own fashioning to a Chinese mandolin, -its mantel-shelf and low book-cases crowded with Chinese and Hindu -deities, Venetian glass, Etruscan vases, Indian birch-bark boxes, and -Philadelphia pottery of striking form and ornament. It had been but an -ordinary though large parlor when Mr. Leland first moved into it, but -he soon gave it a character all its own, surrounding himself with a -few of his pet household gods, the others with his books being packed -away in London and Philadelphia warehouses waiting the day when he will -collect them together and set them up in a permanent home. - -The reason Mr. Leland remained so long in the Broad Street house was -because he was interested in a good work which detained him year -after year in Philadelphia. While abroad he had seen and studied many -things besides gypsies, and he had come home with new ideas on the -subject of education, to which he immediately endeavored to give active -expression. His theory was that industrial pursuits could be made a -part of every child’s education, and that they must be comparatively -easy. The necessity of introducing some sort of hand-work into public -school education had long been felt by the Philadelphia School Board, -and indeed by many others throughout the country. It had been proved -that to teach trades was an impossibility. It remained for Mr. Leland -to suggest that the principles of industrial or decorative art could -be readily learned by even very young children at the same time that -they pursued their regular studies. He laid his scheme before the -school directors, and they, be it said to their credit, furnished him -with ample means for the necessary experiment. This was so successful, -that before the end of the first year the number of children sent to -him increased from a mere handful to one hundred and fifty. Before he -left America there were more than three hundred attending his classes. -It is true that Pestalozzi and Fröbel had already arrived at the same -theory of education. But, as Carl Werner has said, Mr. Leland was the -first person in Europe or America who seriously demonstrated and proved -it by practical experiment. - -These classes were held at the Hollingsworth schoolhouse in Locust -Street above Broad, but a few steps from where he lived. It is simply -impossible not to say a few words here about it, since Mr. Leland was -as much at home in the schoolhouse as in his own rooms. Four afternoons -every week were spent there. On Tuesdays and Thursdays he himself gave -lessons in design to the school children, going from one to the other -with an interest and an attention not common even among professional -masters. When, after the rounds were made, there were a few minutes to -spare--which did not often happen--he went into the next room, where -other children were busy under teachers, working out their own designs -in wood or clay or leather. I think in many of the grotesques that were -turned out from that modeling table--in the frogs and the serpents and -sea-monsters twining about vases, and the lizards serving as handles to -jars--Mr. Leland’s influence could be easily recognized. On Saturdays -he was again there, superintending a smaller class of _repoussé_ -workers. In England he had found what could really be done by cold -hammering brass on wood, and in America he popularized this discovery. -When he first began to teach the children, this sort of work being as -yet little known, I remember there was one boy, rather more careless -but more businesslike than his fellow-hammerers, who during his summer -holidays made over two hundred and eighteen dollars by beating out on -placque after placque a few designs (one an Arabic inscription), which -he had borrowed from Mr. Leland. But after the children’s class was -enlarged and a class was started at the Ladies’ Decorative Art Club -established by Mr. Leland, work had to be more careful and original to -be profitable. On Mondays the Decorative Art Club engaged Mr. Leland’s -time, many of its members meeting to learn design in the Hollingsworth -school-rooms, which were larger and better lighted than those in their -club-house. This club, which in its second year had no less than -two hundred members, also owes its existence entirely to Mr. Leland, -who is still its president. When it is remembered that both in the -school and in the club he worked from pure motives of interest in his -theory and its practical results, and with no other object in view but -its ultimate success, the extent of his earnestness and zeal may be -measured. - -It may be easily understood that this work, together with his literary -occupations, left him little time for recreation. But still there -were leisure hours; and in the fresh springtime it was his favorite -amusement to wander from the city to the Reservoir, with its pretty -adjoining wood beyond Camden, or to certain other well-known, shady, -flowery gypseries in West Philadelphia or far-out Broad Street, where -he knew a friendly _Sarshan?_ (“How are you?”) would be waiting for -him. Or else on cold winter days, when sensible Romanies had taken -flight to the South or were living in houses, he liked nothing better -than to stroll through the streets, looking in at shop-windows; -exchanging a few words in their vernacular with the smiling Italians -selling chestnuts and fruit at street corners, or stray Slavonian -dealers (Slovak or Croat) in mouse- and rat-traps, or with other -“interesting varieties of vagabonds”; stopping in bric-à-brac shops and -meeting their German-Jew owners with a brotherly “_Sholem aleichem!_” -and bargaining with unmistakable familiarity with the ways of the -trade; or else, perhaps, ordering tools and materials, buying brass -and leather for his classes. Indeed, he was scarcely less constant -to Chestnut Street than Walt Whitman or Mr. Boker. But while Walt -Whitman in his daily walks seldom went above Tenth Street, Mr. Leland -seldom went below it, turning there to go to the Mercantile Library, -which he visited quite as often as the Philadelphia Library, of which -he has long been a shareholder; while Mr. Boker seemed to belong -more particularly to the neighborhood of Thirteenth or Broad Street, -where he was near the Union League and the Philadelphia Club. Almost -everybody must have known by sight these three men, all so striking in -personal appearance. Mr. Leland rarely went out in the evenings. Then -he rested and was happy in his large easy chair, with his cigar and his -book. There never was such an insatiable reader, not even excepting -Macaulay. It was then, and is still, his invariable custom to begin a -book immediately after dinner and finish it before going to bed, never -missing a line; and he reads everything, from old black-letter books to -the latest volume of travels or trash, from Gaboriau’s most sensational -novel to the most abstruse philosophical treatise. His reading is as -varied as his knowledge. - -I have thus dwelt particularly on his life in Philadelphia, because, -during the four and a half years he spent there--a long period for him -to give to any one place--he had time to fall into regular habits and -to lead what may be called a home life; and also because his way of -living since he has been back in England has changed but slightly. He -now has his headquarters at the Langham. He still devotes his mornings -to literary work and many of his afternoons to teaching decorative art. -He is one of the directors of the Home Arts Society, which but for him -would never have been; Mrs. Jebb, one of its most zealous upholders, -having modeled the classes which led to its organization wholly upon -his system of instruction, and in coöperation with him. The society -has its chief office in the Langham chambers, close to the hotel; -there Mr. Leland teaches and works just as he did in the Hollingsworth -school-rooms. Lord Brownlow is the president of this association, Lady -Brownlow, his wife, taking an active interest in it; and Mr. Walter -Besant is the treasurer. Mr. Leland is also the father or founder of -the famous Rabelais Club, in which the chair was generally taken by -the late Lord Houghton. For amusement, the Philadelphian now has all -London, of which he is as true a lover as either Charles Lamb or Leigh -Hunt was of old; and for reading purposes he has the British Museum -and Mudie’s at his disposal; so in these respects it must be admitted -he is better off than he was in Philadelphia. He knows, too, all the -near and far gypsy haunts by English wood and wold, and he is certain -he will be heartily welcomed to the Derby or any country fair. But -he has many friends and admirers in England outside of select gypsy -circles. Unfortunately he has lost the two friends with whom he was -once most intimate, Prof. E. H. Palmer, the Arabic scholar, having been -killed by the Arabs, and Mr. Trubner, the publisher, having died while -Mr. Leland was in America. Of his other numerous English acquaintances, -he is most frequently with Mr. Walter Besant, the novelist, and Mr. -Walter Pollock, the editor of _The Saturday Review_, for whom he -occasionally writes a criticism or a special paper. However, despite -the many inducements that can be offered him, he goes seldom into -society. He prefers to give all his energies to the writing by which he -amuses so many readers, and to his good work in the cause of education. - - ELIZABETH ROBINS PENNELL. - - - - - JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL - - - - - JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL - - AT “ELMWOOD” - - -Unfortunately, Mr. Lowell is not at home. He is in his own country -and among his own people; but he is not at Elmwood. For nearly a -decade now his friends have ceased to pass under the portal of those -great English trees and find him by the chimney-fire, “toasting his -toes,” or engaged in less meditative tasks amid the light and shadow -of his books. Loss to them has been gain to us; for in the more open -life of a man of the world and of affairs, at Madrid and London, the -public has seemed to see him more intimately, and has been pleased to -feel some share in his honor as a representative American gentleman -of what must be called an ageing, if not the old, school. But for -lovers of the author, as for his neighbors and acquaintances and his -contemporaries in literature, Lowell is indissolubly set in Elmwood, -and is not to be thought of elsewhere except as in absence. There, -sixty-seven years ago, when Elmwood was but a part of the country -landscape of old Cambridge, he was born of an honorable family of the -colonial time, and learned his alphabet and accidence, and imbibed -from the cultivated and solid company that gathered about his father -the simplicity of manners and severe idealism of mind of which he -continues the tradition; there, in college days, he “read everything -except his text-books,” and with his _æquales_ of the class of 1838 -won a somewhat reluctant sonship from a displeased _Alma Mater_; being -in his youth, as he once remarked to the rebellious founders of _The -Harvard Advocate_, “something of a revolutionist myself”; and it was -from there he went out as far as Boston, to begin that legal career -which was not to end in the glory of a justice’s wig. And after the -early volume of poems was published and a kindly fire had exhausted -the edition, and when _The Pioneer_--what a name that was to gather -into its frontiersman-stroke Hawthorne, Story, Poe, Very and the brawny -Mrs. Browning!--had gone down in the first financial morass, still -the pleasant upper room at Elmwood, looking off over the sweep of the -Charles and the lines of the horizon-hills, was as far from being the -scene of forensic discussion as it was from taking its conversational -tone from the ancient clergymen who, with their long pipes, looked -down on the poet’s friends from an old panel over the fireplace. The -Bar has lost many a deserter to the Muses, and it was a settled thing -with the birds of Elmwood--and the place is still a woodland city of -them--that although they “half-forgave his being human,” they would not -forgive his being a lawyer. So, Lowell kept to his walks in the country -and confided the knowledge of his haunts to the readers of his verses, -and from the beginning rhymed the nobler human tone with the notes of -nature; and he married, and many reminiscences remain, among the men of -that day of that brief happiness, one bright episode of which was his -Italian journey. The first series of “The Biglow Papers” appeared, and -so his literary life began definitely to share in public affairs and to -take on the _quasi_-civic character which was to become more and more -his distinction, until it should reach its development, on the side of -his genius, in the patriotic odes, and its acknowledgment, on the part -of the people, in his offices of national trust. Seldom, indeed, has -the peculiar privacy of a poet’s life passed by so even and natural a -growth into the publicity and dignity of the great citizen’s. - -But, in the narrow space of this sketch, one must not crowd the lines; -and in the way of biography, of which little can be novel to the -reader, it is enough to recall to mind the general course of Lowell’s -life; how he founded _The Atlantic_, which was to prove a diary of -the contemporary literary age; and in the Lowell Institute first -displayed on a true scale the solidity and acuteness of his critical -scholarship, and gave material aid to the national cause and the war on -slavery, as he had always done, by his brilliant satire, his ambushing -humor and more marvelous pathos; and became the Harvard professor, -succeeding Longfellow; and after a residence in Leipsic settled again -at Elmwood to give fresh books to the world, and to be, perhaps, the -most memorable figure in the minds of several generations of Harvard -students. Nor can one leave unmentioned the more familiar features of -the social life in these years of his second marriage--a life somewhat -retired and quiet but filled full of amiability, wit and intellectual -delight, led partly in Longfellow’s study, or in the famous Saturday -Club, or in the weekly whist meetings, and partly in Elmwood itself. -That past lives in tradition and anecdotage, and in it Lowell appears -as the life and spirit of the wine, with a conversational play so rich -in substance and in allusion that, it is said, one must have heard and -seen with his own eyes and ears, before he can realize that what seems -the studied abundance and changeableness of his essays is in fact the -spontaneity of nature, the mother-tongue of the man. - -It will be expected, however, that the writer of this notice will -take the reader to the privacy of Elmwood itself, not in this general -way, but at some particular time before its owner discontinued his -method of fire-side traveling under the care of safe and comfortable -household gods, and tempted the real ocean to find an eight-years’ -exile. The house--an old-fashioned, roomy mansion, set in a large -triangular wooded space, with grassy areas, under the brow of Mount -Auburn--has been familiarized through description and picture; and the -author himself, of medium height, well set, with a substantial form and -a strikingly attractive face, of light complexion, full eyes, mobile -and expressive features, with the beard and drooping mustache which -are so marked a trait of his picture, and now, like the hair, turning -gray,--he, too, is no stranger. Some ten years ago this figure, in -the “reefer” which he then wore, was well known in the college yard, -giving an impression of stoutness, and almost bluffness, until one -caught sight of the face with its half-recognition and good-will to -the younger men; and in his own study or on the leafy veranda of the -house, one perceived only the simplest elements of unconscious dignity, -the frankness of complete cultivation, and the perfect welcome. If -one passed into his home at that time he would have found a hall that -opened out into large rooms on either hand, the whole furnished in -simple and solid fashion, with a look that betokened long inhabitancy -by the family; and on the left hand he would have entered the study -with its windows overlooking long green levels among the trees on the -lawn--for though the estate is not very extensive in this direction, -the planting has been such that the seclusion seems as inviolable as -in the more distant country. The attachment of its owner to these -“paternal acres” is sufficient to explain why when others left -Cambridge in summer--and then it is as quiet as Pisa--he still found it -“good enough country” for him; but besides this affection for the soil, -the landscape itself has a charm that would content a poet. To the rear -of this room, or rather of its chimney, for there was no partition, -was another, whose windows showed the grove and shrubbery at the back -toward the hill; and this view was perhaps the more peaceful. - -Here in these two rooms were the usual furnishings of a scholar’s -study--tables and easy-chairs, pictures and pipes, the whole lending -itself to an effect of lightness and simplicity, with the straw-matting -islanded with books and (especially in the further room) strewn with -scholar’s litter, from the midst of which one day the poet, in search -of “what might be there,” drew from nearly under my feet the manuscript -of Clough’s “Amours de Voyage.” The books filled the shelves upon -the wall, everywhere, and a library more distinctly gathered for -the mere love of literature is not to be found. It is not large as -libraries go--some four thousand volumes. To tell its treasures would -be to catalogue the best works of man in many languages. Perhaps -its foundation-stone, in a sense, is a beautiful copy of the first -Shakspeare folio; Lord Vernon’s “Dante” is among the “tallest” volumes, -and there are many rare works in much smaller compass. The range in -English is perhaps the most sweeping, but the precious part to the -bibliophile is the collection, a very rich one, of the old French and -other romantic poetry. More interesting in a personal way are the -volumes one picks up at random, which are mile-stones of an active -literary life--old English romances, where the rivulet is not of the -text but of the blue-pencil, the preliminary stage of a trenchant essay -on some Halliwell, perhaps; or possibly some waif of a useless task, -like a reëdited “Donne,” to whose _manes_ the unpoetic publisher was -unwilling to make a financial sacrifice. But the limit is reached. That -time in which the scene of this brief description is set, was the last -long summer that Lowell spent in Elmwood. - - GEORGE E. WOODBERRY. - -[Mr. Lowell died August 12, 1891.--EDITORS.] - - - - - DONALD G. MITCHELL (IK MARVEL) - - - - - DONALD G. MITCHELL (IK MARVEL) - - AT “EDGEWOOD” - - -Mr. Mitchell is eminently an “author at home.” There are many of -our popular writers--both citizens and country dwellers--whose -environment is a matter of comparative indifference to their readers. -But the farmer of Edgewood has taken the public so pleasantly into -his confidence, has welcomed them so cordially to his garden, his -orchard and his very hearthstone, that--in a literary sense--we -are all his guests and inmates. In the consulship of Plancus--as -Thackeray would say--we Freshmen, after our pilgrimage to that shrine -of liberty, the Judges’ Cave on West Rock, with its kakographic -inscription,--“Oposition [_sic_] to tyrants is obedience to God,”--used -to turn our steps southward to burn our youthful incense upon the -shrine of literature, and see whether the burs had begun to open on the -big chestnut trees that fringed Ik Marvel’s domain. In those days the -easiest approach was through the little village of Westville, which -nestles at the foot of the rock and seems, from a distance, to lay its -church-spire, like a white finger, against the purple face of the -cliff. The rustic gate at the northern corner of Edgewood, whence a -carriage road led to the ridge behind the house, stood then invitingly -open, and a printed notice informed the wayfarer that the grounds were -free to the public on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons. - -Now, as then, the reveries and dreams of Mr. Mitchell’s early books -continue to charm the fireside musings of many a college dreamer; and -successive generations of Freshmen still find their footsteps tending, -in the golden autumn afternoons of first term, toward the Edgewood -gates. But nowadays the pilgrim may take the Chapel Street horse-car at -the college fence, and after a ten minutes’ ride, dismounting at the -terminus of the line and walking a block to westward, he finds himself -at the brink of what our geologists call “the New Haven terrace.” -Thence the road descends into the water meadows, and, crossing on a new -iron bridge the brackish sluice known as West River, leads straight on -across a gravelly level, till it strikes, at a right angle, the foot of -the Woodbridge hills and the Old Codrington Road (now Forest Street). -On this road lies Edgewood, sloping to the east and south, lifted upon -a shelf of land above the river plain, while behind it the hill rises -steeply to the height of some hundred feet, and shuts off the west -with the border of overhanging woods which gives the place its name. - -From his library window Mr. Mitchell can look across a little -foreground of well-kept dooryard, with blossoming shrubs and vines and -bright parterres of flowers set in the close turf; across a hemlock -hedge and a grass-bank sloping down to the road; across the road itself -and the flat below it, checkered with his various crops, to the spires -and roofs and elm-tops of New Haven and the green Fair Haven hills -in the eastern horizon. Southward, following the line of the river, -he sees the waters of the harbor, bounded by the white lighthouse on -its point of rock. Northward is the trap “dyke” or precipice of West -Rock, and northeastward, beyond the town, and dim with a violet haze, -the sister eminence, East Rock. From the driveway which traverses the -ridge behind the homestead the view is still wider and more distinct, -taking in the salt marshes through which West River flows down to the -bay, the village of West Haven to the south, and, beyond, the sparkling -expanse of the Sound and the sandhills of Long Island. Back of the -ridge, westward, stretches for miles a region which used to be known -to college walkers as “The Wilderness,” from its supposed resemblance -to the scene of Grant’s famous campaign: a region of scrubby woodland, -intersected with sled roads and cut over every few years for -fire-wood: a region--it may be said incidentally--dear to the hunters -of the fugacious orchid. - -The weather-stained old farmhouse described in “My Farm of Edgewood” -made way some dozen years ago for a tasteful mansion of masonry and -wood-work. The lower story of this is built of stone taken mostly -from old walls upon the farm. The doors and windows have an edging of -brick which sets off the prevailing gray with a dash of red. The upper -story is of wood. There are a steep-pitched roof with dormer-windows, -a rustic porch to the east, a generous veranda to the south, and -vines covering the stone. The whole effect is both picturesque and -substantial, graceful and homely at once. The front door gives entrance -to a spacious hall, flanked upon the south by the double drawing-rooms -and upon the north by the library, with its broad, low chimney opening, -its book-shelves and easy-chairs, its tables and desk and wide -mantel, covered and strewn in careless order with books, photographs, -manuscripts, and all the familiar litter of a scholar’s study. At the -rear of the hall is the long dining-room, running north and south, its -windows giving upon the grassy hillside to the west. A conspicuous -feature of this apartment is the full-length portrait, on the end wall, -of Mr. Mitchell’s maternal grandfather, painted about the beginning of -the century, and representing its subject in the knee-breeches and -silk stockings of the period. Half-length portraits of Mr. Mitchell’s -grandparents, painted about 1830, by Morse, the electrician, hang upon -the side wall of the dining-room, and an earlier portrait of his mother -surmounts the library mantel-piece. Mr. Mitchell’s culture, it will be -seen, does not lack that ancestral background which Dr. Holmes thinks -so important to the New England Brahmin. Three generations of the -name adorn the pages of the Yale Triennial. His grandfather, Stephen -Mix Mitchell, graduated in 1763, was a Representative and Senator in -Congress and Chief Justice of Connecticut. His father, the Rev. Alfred -Mitchell, graduated in 1809, was a Congregational minister at Norwich, -in which city Mr. Mitchell was born, April 12, 1822. The statement -has been made that “Doctor Johns” was a sketch from the Rev. Alfred -Mitchell; but this is not true. Mr. Mitchell’s father died when his -son was only eight years old, and though his theology was strictly -Calvinistic, his personality made no such impression upon the boy as to -enable him to reproduce it so many years after. Some features in the -character of “Dr. Johns” were suggested by Dr. Hall, of Ellington, at -whose once famous school Mr. Mitchell was for some time a pupil. The -name of Donaldus G. Mitchell also appears on the Triennial Catalogue -for the year 1792 as borne by a great-uncle of the present “Donaldus,” -who took his bachelor’s degree in 1841. Mr. Mitchell’s mother was a -Woodbridge, and some four years since he completed an elaborate and -sumptuously-printed genealogy of that family, undertaken by his brother -but left unfinished at his death. - -The French windows of the drawing-room open upon the veranda to the -south, and this upon a lawny perspective which is at once an example -of Mr. Mitchell’s skillful landscape-gardening and a surprise to the -stranger, who from the highway has caught only glimpses of sward and -shrubbery through the hedge and the fringe of trees. The Edgewood lawn -is a soft fold between the instep of the hill and the grassy bank that -hangs over the road and carries the hedgerow. It is not very extensive, -but the plantations of evergreens and other trees on either side are -so artfully disposed, advancing here in capes and retiring there in -bays and recesses, that the eye is lured along a seemingly interminable -vista of gentle swales and undulations, bordered by richly-varied -foliage, along the hillside farms beyond, and far into the heart of -the south. Here and there on the steep slope to the right, and high -above the lawn itself, are coppices of birch, hazel, alder, dogwood and -other native shrubs, brought together years ago and protected by little -enclosures, but now grown into considerable trees. North of the house -is the neatly-kept garden, with its beds of vegetables and flowers, -its rows of currant and gooseberry bushes, its box-edged alleys, and -back of all a tall hedge of hemlock, clipped to a dense, smooth wall of -dark green, starred with the lighter needles of this year’s growth. Mr. -Mitchell tells, with a pardonable pride, how he brought from the woods, -in two baskets, all the hemlocks which compose this beautiful screen. -He has two workshops,--his library and his garden; and of the two he -evidently loves the latter best, and works there every day before -breakfast in the cool hours of the morning. - -Edgewood has been identified with its present owner for a generation. -He was not always a farmer; but farming was his early passion, and -after several years of writing and wandering, he settled down here in -1855 and returned to his first love. On leaving college he went to -work on his grandfather’s farm near Norwich. He gained at this time -the prize of a silver cup from the New York Agricultural Society, for -plans of farm buildings. He became a correspondent of _The Albany -Cultivator_ (now _The Country Gentleman_), contributing letters from -Europe during his first visit abroad, in 1844-6. This was undertaken in -search of health. He was threatened with consumption, and winter found -him at Torquay in the south of England, suffering from a distressing -and persistent cough. From this he was relieved after a violent fit of -sea-sickness, while crossing the Channel to the island of Jersey, where -he spent half a winter. Another half-winter was passed in tramping -about England, and eighteen months on the continent. These experiences -of foreign travel furnished the material for his first book, “Fresh -Gleanings” (1847). After his return to this country he studied law in -New York, but the confinement was injurious to his health, and in 1848 -he went abroad a second time, traveling in England and Switzerland and -residing for a while in Paris. France was on the eve of a revolution, -and Mr. Mitchell’s impressions of the time were recorded in his -second book, “The Battle Summer” (1850). Again returning to America, -he took up his residence in New York, and issued in weekly numbers -“The Lorgnette; or, Studies of the Town, by an Opera-Goer.” This was -a series of satirical sketches, something after the plan of Irving’s -“Salmagundi” papers. They were signed by an assumed name, and even the -publisher was not in the secret of their authorship. The intermediary -in the business was William Henry Huntington, who lately died in Paris, -and who was known for many years to all Americans sojourning in the -French capital as an accomplished gentleman and man of letters. The -“Lorgnette” provoked much comment, and among Mr. Mitchell’s collection -of letters are many from his publisher, detailing the guesses of -eminent persons who called at his shop to ascertain the authorship. - -The nucleus of the “Reveries of a Bachelor” was a paper contributed to -_The Southern Literary Messenger_, and entitled “A Bachelor’s Reverie, -in Three Parts: 1. Smoke, signifying Doubt; 2. Blaze, signifying Cheer; -3. Ashes, signifying Desolation.” Mr. Mitchell has a bibliographical -rarity in his library in the shape of a copy of this first paper, in -book form, bearing date Wormsloe, 1850, with the following colophon: -“This edition of twelve copies of the Bachelor’s Reverie, by Ik: -Marvel, hath been: by the Author’s Leave: printed privately for George -Wymberley Jones.” This Mr. Jones was a wealthy and eccentric gentleman, -who amused himself with a private printing-press at his estate of -Wormsloe, near Savannah. The “Reveries,” by the way, has been by all -odds its author’s most popular work, judged by the unfailing criterion -of “sales.” In 1851 Mr. Mitchell was invited by Henry J. Raymond to -edit the literary department of the _Times_, then newly established; -but the labor promised to be too exacting for his state of health, -and the offer was declined. In May, 1853, Mr. Mitchell was appointed -Consul for the United States at Venice. In June of the same year he -was married to Miss Mary F. Pringle, of Charleston, and sailed again -for Europe to enter upon the duties of his consulate. He was attracted -to Venice by the opportunities for historical study, and while there -he began the collection of material looking toward a history of the -Venetian Republic. This plan never found fulfilment, but traces of -Mr. Mitchell’s Venetian studies crop out in many of his subsequent -writings; especially, perhaps, in his lecture on “Titian and his -Times,” read before the Art School of Yale College, and included in -his latest volume, “Bound Together” (1884). In 1854 he resigned his -consulate, and in July of the following year, he purchased Edgewood. - -During the past thirty-three years Mr. Mitchell has led the enviable -life of a country gentleman--a life of agriculture tempered by -literature and diversified by occasional excursions into the field of -journalism. He has seen his numerous children grow up about him; he -has entertained at his charming home many of our most distinguished -_literati_; and he has kept open his communication with the reading -public by a series of books and contributions to the periodical press, -on farming, landscape-gardening, and the practical and æsthetic -aspects of rural life. He edited “The Atlantic Almanac” for 1868 and -1869, and in the latter year accepted the editorship of _Hearth and -Home_--a position which made it necessary for him to spend a part of -every week in New York. He was one of the judges of industrial art at -the Centennial Exhibition of 1876, and Commissioner from the United -States at the Paris Exposition of 1878. His taste and experience in -landscape-gardening have been called into play in the laying-out of -the city park at East Rock, and at many private grounds in New Haven -and elsewhere. Of late years the University has had the benefit of his -services in one way and another. He has been one of the Council of the -School of Fine Arts, since the establishment of that department, and -has lectured before the School. In the fall and winter of 1884, he -delivered a course of lectures on English literature to the students -of the University; and the crowd of eager listeners that attended -the series to the close showed that Mr. Mitchell had not lost that -power of interesting and delighting young men which gave such wide -currency to his “Reveries of a Bachelor” and “Dream Life” a generation -ago. Among the other lectures and addresses delivered on various -occasions--several of which are collected in “Bound Together,”--special -mention may be made of the address on Washington Irving, which formed -one of the pleasantest features of the centennial celebration at -Tarrytown in 1883. Irving not only honored Mr. Mitchell with his -personal friendship, but he was, in a sense, his literary master. For -different as are the subjects upon which the two have written, Mr. -Mitchell, more truly than any other American writer, has inherited -the literary tradition of Irving’s time and school. There is the same -genial and sympathetic attitude toward his readers; the same tenderness -of feeling; and, in style, that gentle elaboration and that careful, -high-bred English which contrasts so strikingly with the brusque, -nervous manner now in fashion. Among the treasures of Mr. Mitchell’s -correspondence, none, I will venture to say, are more highly valued by -him than the letters from Washington Irving, although the collection -contains epistles from Hawthorne, Holmes, Dickens, Greeley, and many -other distinguished men. Other interesting _memorabilia_ are the -roughly drawn plans of Bayard Taylor’s house and grounds at “Kennett,” -which the projector sketched for his host during his last visit at -Edgewood. - -In appearance Mr. Mitchell is rather under than over the average -height, broad-shouldered and squarely shaped, the complexion fresh and -ruddy, the nose slightly aquiline, the lips firmly shut, the glance of -the eye kindly but keen. The engraving in _The Eclectic Magazine_ for -September, 1867, still gives an excellent idea of its subject, though -the dark, luxuriant whiskers there pictured are now a decided gray. It -may not be generally know that, besides German translations of several -of Mr. Mitchell’s books, his “Reveries” and “Dream Life” have been -reprinted in Germany in Dürr’s Collection of Standard American Authors. - - HENRY A. BEERS. - - - - - FRANCIS PARKMAN - - - - - FRANCIS PARKMAN - - IN JAMAICA PLAIN AND IN BOSTON - - -The surroundings and experiences of Francis Parkman were, in some -respects, very happily in accord with his aims and achievements, and -in other respects as unfortunate as one could imagine. His home in -childhood was near the forest of the Middlesex Fells, Massachusetts; -and his wanderings and shootings in those woods early developed the -two leading interests of his youth--the woods and the Indian. When his -literary taste and ambition were aroused, in Harvard, he chose as his -topic the French and Indian or Seven Years’ War, because it dealt with -these favorite subjects, and, moreover, appealed to his strong sense -of the picturesque. The die was thus cast; and thereafter, through -college, through the law school, indeed through life, it molded his -existence. For some years his reading, study, and vacation journeys all -had a bearing on that particular subject. On leaving college he was -troubled with an abnormal sensibility of the retina, which restricted -the use of his eyes within very narrow limits. As it was apparent, -therefore, that he could not then collect the vast body of materials -required for the history of that war, he concluded to take up, as a -preparatory work in the same direction, the conspiracy of Pontiac. In -accordance with his plan pursued in studying all of his topics, he -visited the localities concerned, and, where it was possible, saw the -descendants of the people to be described. Not content with seeing -the semi-civilized Indians, he went to the Rocky Mountains, in 1846, -lived a while with the Ogallalla Sioux, visited some other tribes, and -studied the character, manners, customs and traditions of the wildest -of the Indians. But he bought this invaluable experience at a dear -price; for while with these tribes on the hunt and the war-path he -was attacked by an acute disorder, and being unable to rest and cure -himself, his constitution was nearly ruined as well as his eyesight. -However, he returned safe if not sound from his perilous journey, and -wrote “The Oregon Trail” (1847) and “The Conspiracy of Pontiac” (1851) -by the help of readers and an amanuensis. He had now to settle himself -in the prospect of years of ill-health and perhaps blindness. - -In 1854 he bought a property on the edge of Jamaica Pond, and -established himself and his family there in the woods and on the -shore of a beautiful sheet of water--surroundings congenial to his -fancy and his restrained ambition. About ten years of his life, in -periods of two or three years, passed as a blank in literary labor; -and during the remainder of the time, frequent and long interruptions -broke the line of his efforts. Such an experience at the opening of -his career would have been unendurable without some absorbing pursuit; -and having a favorable site for gardening and an unfailing love of -nature, he took up the study of horticulture. By 1859 it had become his -chief occupation--one that filled happily several years, and to the -last occupied more or less time according to the amount of literary -work he could do. His labors were made fruitful to the public in a -professorship at the Bussey Institution, the publication of “The Book -of Roses” in 1866, the presidency of the Massachusetts Horticultural -Society, and in careful experiments extending over ten or twelve years -in the hybridization of lilies and other flowers. Among the most noted -of his floral creations is the magnificent _lilium Parkmanni_, named -by the English horticulturist who purchased the stock. Mr. Parkman’s -summer home, at the Pond, was a plain but sunny and cheerful house, -in the midst of a garden sloping down to the water; his study window -looked to the north, the light least trying to sensitive eyes. The -charming site, the landscapes about, the greenhouse and grounds in -summer full of rare flowers, were the chief interests of the place; -for his library and principal workshop were in Boston. As much exercise -was necessary to him, he was a familiar figure in this pretty suburb of -the city, either riding on horseback, rowing on the pond, or walking in -the fields and woods. - -But in the midst of all these discouraging delays and extraneous -occupations, his literary aims were not forgotten; he pushed on, when -he could, his investigations and composition by the help of readers and -an amanuensis. Those who are unacquainted with the labor of historic -research can scarcely imagine the difficulty, extent, and tedium -of his investigations. The reader can glance over a book and pick -out the needle he seeks in the haystack; but he who uses another’s -eyes must examine carefully the entire stack in order not to miss a -possible needle. Mr. Parkman’s ground has been won inch by inch. On -finishing “The Conspiracy of Pontiac,” he had extended his first plan -of writing the Seven Years’ War, and determined to take up the entire -subject of French colonization in North America; and instead of making -a continuous history, to write a series of connected narratives. He -therefore continued, and extended, his journeys for investigation, in -this country, in Canada, and in Europe; and by the help of readers and -copyists he selected and acquired the necessary documents. But even -with all the aid possible, the preparation of the first volume of the -series consumed fourteen years. “The Pioneers of France in the New -World” appeared in 1865, “The Jesuits in North America” in 1867, “La -Salle and the Discovery of the Great West” in 1869, “The Old Régime in -Canada” in 1874, “Frontenac and New France under Louis XIV.” in 1877, -“Montcalm and Wolfe” in 1884. - -Mr. Parkman’s winter home, where he did the most of his work, was in -the house of his sister, Miss Parkman, at 50 Chestnut Street, Boston--a -quiet locality on the western slope of Beacon Hill. His study was -a plain, comfortable, front room at the top of the house, with an -open fire, a small writing-table beside the window, and shelves of -books covering the walls. The most valuable of his treasures were -manuscript copies of both public and private documents. For the sake -of greater safety and more general usefulness he parted with some of -these manuscripts--gave a lot of _fac-simile_ maps to Harvard College, -and a collection of thirty-five large volumes to the Massachusetts -Historical Society. The latter embrace eight volumes of documents from -the Archives of Marine and Colonies and other archives of France, -relating to Canada, from 1670 to 1700; twelve volumes from the same -sources, from 1748 to 1763; four volumes from the Public Record Office -of London, from 1750 to 1760; one volume from the National Archives -of Paris, from 1759 to 1766; one volume from the British Museum, from -1751 to 1761; one volume of diverse letters to Bourlamaque by various -officers in Canada during the war of 1755-63; one volume of letters -to the same by Montcalm while in Canada (Montcalm had requested -Bourlamaque to burn them, but Mr. Parkman, fifteen years before he -could find them, believed in their existence, and finally discovered -them in a private collection of manuscripts); one volume of Montcalm’s -private letters to his wife and his mother, written while he was in -America--obtained from the present Marquis de Montcalm; and one volume -of Washington’s letters to Colonel Bouquet, from the British Museum. -The most recent publication, “Montcalm and Wolfe,” takes in twenty-six -of these volumes, besides a large lot of printed matter and notes made -at the sources of information. The above collection constitutes about -half of Mr. Parkman’s manuscripts. A considerable part of them cannot -be estimated by pages and volumes, being unbound notes and references -representing a vast amount of research. Two sets of copyists sent him -from France and England copies of the papers he designated. - -Mr. Parkman’s experience offers a valuable and encouraging example in -the history of literature. On the one side he had poor health and -poor sight for a vast amount of labor; on the other he had money, -time, capacity, a tough, sinewy, physique, a resistant, calm, cheerful -temper, and an indomitable perseverance and ambition. As in some other -cases, his disabilities seem to have been negative advantages, if we -may judge by his productions; for his frequent illnesses, by retarding -his labors, increased his years and experience before production, and -forced the growth of departments of knowledge generally neglected by -students. He was led to give equal attention to observing nature, -studying men, and digesting evidence. His studies and manual labors -in horticulture and his practical familiarity with forest life and -frontier life quickened his sympathy with nature. His extensive travels -gave him a wide knowledge of life, manners, and customs, from the -wigwam to the palace. Far from being a recluse, he was, until his death -in 1893, a man of the world, often locked out of his closet and led -into practical and public interests (for six years he was President -of the St. Botolph Club of Boston, and for ten years one of the seven -members of the Corporation of Harvard University). He was naturally -a student of men, and a keen observer of character and motives. -His discouraging interruptions from literary work, while not often -stopping the above studies, forced upon him time for reflection, for -weighing the evidence he collected, and for perfecting the form of -his works. Doubtless human achievements do proceed from sources more -interior than exterior; but the circumstances of Mr. Parkman’s life -must have conduced to the realism, strength, and picturesqueness of -his descriptions; to the distinctness of his characters, their motives -and actions; to the thoroughness of his investigations; and to the -impartiality of judgment and the truth of perspective in his histories. - - C. H. FARNHAM. - - - - - GOLDWIN SMITH - - - - - GOLDWIN SMITH - - AT “THE GRANGE” - - -Beverly Street, though it lies in the heart of the city, is one of the -most fashionable quarters of Toronto. About the middle of its eastern -side a whole block is walled off from curious eyes by a high, blank -fence, behind which rises what seems a bit of primeval forest. The -trees are chiefly fir-trees, mossed with age, and sombre; and in the -midst of their effectual privacy, with sunny tennis-lawns spread out -before its windows, is The Grange. The entrance to the grounds is in -another street, Grange Road, where the fir-trees stand wide apart, and -the lawns stretch down to the great gates standing always hospitably -open. The house itself is an old-fashioned, wide-winged mansion of -red brick, low, and ample in the eaves, its warm color toned down by -the frosts of many Canadian winters to an exquisite harmony with the -varying greens which surround it. The quaint, undemonstrative doorway, -the heavy, dark-painted hall-door, the shining, massy knocker, and the -prim side-windows,--all savor delightfully of _United Empire Loyalist_ -days. Just such fit and satisfactory architecture this as we have fair -chance of finding wherever the makers of Canada came to a rest from -their flight out of the angry, new-born republic. As the door opens -one enters a dim, roomy hall, full of soft brown tints and suggestion -of quiet, the polished floor made noiseless with Persian rugs. On the -right hand open the parlors, terminated by an octagonal conservatory. -The wing opposite is occupied by the dining-room and a spacious library. - -The dining-room has a general tone of crimson and brown, and its walls -are covered with portraits in oil of the heroes of the Commonwealth. -Milton, Cromwell, Hampden, Pym, Vane, _et al._--they are all there, -gazing down severely upon the well-covered board. The abstemious host -serenely dines beneath that Puritan scrutiny; but to me it has always -seemed that a collection of the great cavaliers would look on with a -sympathy more exhilarating. From here a short passage leads to the -ante-room of the library, which, like the library itself, is lined -to the ceiling with books. At the further end of the library is the -fireplace, under a heavy mantel of oak, and near it stands a massive -writing-desk, of some light colored wood. A smaller desk, close by, -is devoted to the use of the gentleman who acts as librarian and -secretary. The ample windows are all on one side, facing the lawn; -and the centre of the room is held by a billiard-table, which, for the -most part, is piled with the latest reviews and periodicals. The master -of The Grange is by no means an assiduous player, though he handles -the cue with fair skill. In such a home as this, Mr. Goldwin Smith may -be considered to have struck deep root into Canadian soil; and as his -wife, whose bright hospitality gives The Grange its highest charm, is -a Canadian woman, he has every right to regard himself as identified -with Canada. In person, Mr. Smith is very tall, straight, spare; his -face keen, grave, almost severe; his iron-gray hair cut close; his -eyes restless, alert, piercing, but capable at times of an unexpected -gentleness and sweetness; his smile so agreeable that one must the -more lament its rarity. The countenance and manner are preëminently -those of the critic, the investigator, the tester. As he concerns -himself earnestly in all our most important public affairs, his general -appearance, through the medium of the Toronto _Grip_, our Canadian -_Punch_, has come to be by no means unfamiliar to the people of Canada. - -In becoming a Canadian, Goldwin Smith has not ceased to be an -Englishman; he has also desired to become an American, by the way. He -holds his English audience through the pages of _The Contemporary_ -and _The Nineteenth Century_, and he addresses Americans for some -weeks every year from a chair in Cornell University. In Canada he -chooses to speak from behind an extremely diaphanous veil--the _nom de -plume_ of “A Bystander”; and under this name he for some time issued -a small monthly (changed to a quarterly before its discontinuance), -which was written entirely by himself, and treated of current events -and the thought of the hour. That periodical has now been succeeded -by _The Week_, to which the Bystander has been a contributor since -the paper was founded. It were out of place to speak here of Goldwin -Smith’s career and work in England; it would be telling, too, what is -pretty widely known. In Canada his influence has been far deeper than -is generally imagined, or than, to a surface-glance, would appear. On -his first coming here he was unfairly and relentlessly attacked by -what was at the time the most powerful journal in Canada, the Toronto -_Globe_; and he has not lacked sharp but irregular antagonism ever -since. Somewhat relentless himself, as evinced by his attitude toward -the Irish and the Jews, and having always one organ or another in his -control, he has long ago wiped out his score against the _Globe_, and -inspired a good many of his adversaries with discretion. He devotes -all his energy and time, at least so far as the world knows, to work -of a more or less ephemeral nature; and when urged to the creation -of something permanent, something commensurate with his genius, he -is wont to reply that he regards himself rather as a journalist -than an author. He would live not by books, but by his mark stamped -on men’s minds. It does, indeed, at first sight, surprise one to -observe the meagreness of his enduring literary work, as compared -with his vast reputation. There is little bearing his name save the -volume of collected lectures and essays--chief among them the perhaps -matchless historical study entitled “The Great Duel of the Seventeenth -Century,”--and the keen but cold monograph on Cowper contributed to the -English Men-of-Letters. His visible achievement is soon measured, but -it would be hard to measure the wide-reaching effects of his influence. -Now, while a sort of conservatism is creeping over his utterances with -years, doctrines contrary to those he used so strenuously to urge seem -much in the ascendant in England. But in Canada he has found a more -plastic material into which, almost without either our knowledge or -consent, his lines have sunk deeper. His direct teachings, perhaps, -have not greatly prevailed with us. He has not called into being -anything like a Bystander party, for instance, to wage war against -party government, and other great or little objects of his attack. For -this his genius is not synthetic enough--it is too disintegrating. But -his influence pervades all parties, and has proved a mighty shatterer -of fetters amongst us--a swift solvent of many cast-iron prejudices. -He has opened, liberalized, to some extent deprovincialized, our -thought, and has convinced us that some of our most revered fetishes -were but feathers and a rattle after all. But he sees too many sides -of a question to give unmixed satisfaction to anybody. The Canadian -Nationalists, with whom he is believed to be in sympathy, owe him -both gratitude and a grudge. He has made plain to us our right to our -doctrines, and the rightness of our doctrines; he has made ridiculous -those who would cry “Treason” after us. But we could wish that he would -suffer us to indulge a little youthful enthusiasm, as would become -a people unquestionably young; and also that he would refrain from -showing us quite so vividly and persistently all the lions in our path. -We think we can deal with each as it comes against us. His words go far -to weaken our faith in the ultimate consolidation of Canada; he tends -to retard our perfect fusion, and is inclined to unduly exalt Ontario -at the expense of her sister Provinces. All these things trouble us, as -increasing the possibility of success for a movement just now being -actively stirred in England, and toward which Goldwin Smith’s attitude -has ever been one of uncompromising antagonism--that is, the movement -toward imperial federation. - -Speaking of Mr. Smith and Canadian Nationalism, as the Nationalist -movement is now too big to fear laughter, I may mention the sad fate -of the first efforts to institute such a movement. A number of years -ago, certain able and patriotic young men in Toronto established a -“Canada First” party, and threw themselves with zeal into the work of -propagandizing. Mr. Smith’s cooperation was joyfully accepted, and he -joined the movement. But it soon transpired that it was the movement -which had joined him. In very fact, he swallowed the “Canada First” -party; and growing tired of propagandizing when he thought the time was -not ripe for it, and finding something else to do just then than assist -at the possibly premature birth of a nation, he let the busy little -movement fall to pieces. The vital germ, however, existed in every one -of the separate pieces, and has sprung up from border to border of the -land, till now it has a thousand centers, is clothed in a thousand -shapes, and is altogether incapable of being swallowed. - -As I am writing for an American audience, it may not be irrelevant to -say, before concluding, that while Goldwin Smith is an ardent believer -in, and friend of, the American people, he has at the same time but -a tepid esteem for the chief part of American literature. He rather -decries all but the great humorists, for whom, indeed, his admiration -is unbounded. He has a full and generous appreciation for the genius of -Poe. But he misses entirely the greatness of Emerson, allows to Lowell -no eminence save as a satirist, and is continually asking, privately, -that America shall produce a book. As he has not, however, made this -exorbitant demand as yet in printer’s ink, and over his sign and seal, -perhaps we may be permitted to regard it as no more than a mild British -joke. - - CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS. - - FREDERICTON, N. B. - - - - - EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN - - - - - EDMUND C. STEDMAN - - IN NEW YORK AND AT “KELP ROCK” - - -New York is an ugly city, with only here and there a picturesque -feature. Still the picturesque exists, if it be sought for in remote -corners. When about to choose a permanent home, Mr. Stedman did not -exile himself to the distance at which alone such advantages are to be -obtained. For he may be said to be the typical literary man of his day, -in that he is the man of his epoch, of his moment--of the very latest -moment. There is that in his personality which gives him the air of -constantly pressing the electric button which puts him in relation with -the civilized activities of the world. He was born man of the world as -well as poet, with a sensitive response to his age and surroundings -which has enabled him to touch the life of the day at many divergent -points of contact. He owes to an equally rare endowment, to his talent -for leading two entirely separate lives, his success in maintaining -his social life free from the influences of his career as an active -business man. The broker is a separate and distinct person from the -writer and poet. The two, it is true, meet as one, on friendly terms, -on the street or at the club. But the man of Wall Street is entertained -with scant courtesy within the four walls of the poet’s house. - -Once within these, Mr. Stedman’s true life begins. It is an ardent, -productive, intellectual life, only to be intruded upon with impunity -by the insistent demands of his social instincts. Mr. Stedman has the -genius of good-fellowship. His delight in men is only second to his -delight in books. How he has found time for the dispensing of his -numerous duties as host and friend is a matter of calculation which -makes the arithmetic of other people’s lives seem curiously at fault. -He has always possessed this talent for forcing time to give him twice -its measure. That expensive mode of illumination known as burning the -candle at both ends would probably be found to be the true explanation. - -I have said that Mr. Stedman’s town house could not be characterized -as rich in picturesque external adjuncts. The street in which it -is situated--West Fifty-fourth--is of a piece with the prevailing -character of New York domestic architecture. It is a long stretch of -brown-stone houses, ranged in line, like a regiment of soldiers turned -into stone. But the impassive chocolate features, like some mask worn -by a fairy princess, conceal a most enchanting interior. Once within -the front door, the charm of a surprise awaits one. Color, warmth, and -grace greet the eye at the outset. If it be the poet’s gift to turn -the prose of life into poetry, it is certain that the same magical -art has here been employed to make household surroundings minister to -the æsthetic sense. There is a pervading harmony of tone and tints -throughout the house, the rich draperies, the soft-toned carpets, and -the dusk of the tempered daylight, are skillfully used as an effective -background to bring into relief the pictures, the works of art, and the -rare bits of bric-à-brac. One is made sensible, by means of a number -of clever devices, that in this home the arts and not the upholstery -are called upon to do the honors. These admirable results are due -almost entirely to the taste and skill of Mrs. Stedman, who possesses -an artist’s instinct for grouping and effect. She has also the keen -scent and the patience of the ardent collector. A tour of the house is -a passing in review of her triumphs, of trophies won at sales, bits -picked up in foreign travel, a purchase now and then of some choice -collection, either of glass or china, or prints and etchings. Among -the purchases has been that of a large and beautiful collection of -Venetian glass, whose delicate grace and iridescent glow make the -lower rooms a little museum for the connoisseur. But more beautiful -even than the glass is the gleam of color from the admirable pictures -which adorn the walls. Mr. Stedman is evidently a believer in the -doctrine that there is health in the rivalry of the arts. His pictures -look out from their frames at his books, as if to bid them defiance. -The former are of an order of excellence to make even a literary critic -speak well of them; for Mr. Stedman has a passion for pictures which he -has taken the pains to train into a taste. He was a familiar figure, -a few years ago, at the Academy of Design receptions on press-night. -He was certain to be found opposite one of the best water-colors or -oil-paintings of the Exhibition, into the frame of which, a few minutes -later, his card would be slipped, on which the magic word “Sold” was -to be read. It was in this way that some charming creations of Wyant, -of Church, and other of our best artists, were purchased. Perhaps the -pearl of his collection is Winslow Homer’s “Voice from the Cliffs,” the -strongest figure-picture this artist has yet produced. The walls divide -their spaces between such works of art and a numerous and interesting -collection of gifts and souvenirs from the poet’s artist and literary -friends. Among these is a sketch in oil of Miss Fletcher, the author -of “Kismet,” by her stepfather, Eugene Benson; a bronze bas-relief -of Bayard Taylor, who was an intimate friend of Mr. Stedman’s; and a -companion relief of the latter poet, hanging side by side with that of -his friend as if lovingly to emphasize their companionship. - -The usual parallelogram of the New York parlor is broken, by the -pleasantly irregular shape of the rooms, into a series of unexpected -openings, turnings and corners. At the most distant end, beyond the -square drawing-room, the perspective is defined by the rich tones of a -long stretch of stained glass. The figures are neither those of nymph -nor satyr, nor yet of the æsthetic young damsel in amber garments whom -Burne-Jones and William Morris would have us accept as the successor -of these. Here sit two strangely familiar-looking stolid Dutchmen in -colonial dress, puffing their pipes in an old-time kitchen. They are -Peter Stuyvesant and Govert Loockermans, in the act of being waited -upon by “goede-vrouw Maria, ... bustling at her best to spread the -New Year’s table.” Lest the gazer might be in need of an introduction -to these three jovial creations of the poet’s fancy, there are lines -of the poem intertwined with the holly which serves as a decorative -adjunct. No more fitting entrance could have been chosen to the Stedman -dining-room than this. If there was no other company, there was always -the extra plate and an empty chair awaiting the coming guest. It has -pleased the humor of Boston to lance its arrows of wit at New York -for the latter’s pretensions to establishing literary circles and -coteries. When literary Boston was invited to the Stedmans to dinner, -these satirical arrows seemed suddenly to lose their edge. During the -four or five years that Mr. and Mrs. Stedman occupied their charming -house, New York had as distinctly a literary center as either Paris -or London. On Sunday evenings, the evenings at home, there was such a -varied assemblage of guests as only a metropolis can bring together. -Not only authors and artists, critics and professional men, but fashion -and society, found their way there. At the weekly dinners were to be -met the distinguished foreigner, the latest successful novelist or -young poet, and the wittiest and the most beautiful women. As if in -humorous mockery of the difficulties attendant upon literary success -and recognition, the dining-room in its size and seating capacity might -not inaptly be likened to that Oriental figure of speech by which the -rich found heaven so impossible of access. The smallness of the room -only served, however, like certain chemical apparatus, to condense and -liberate the brilliant conversational gases. If the poet were in his -most gracious mood, the more favored guests, after dinner, might be -allowed a glimpse of the library. Books were scattered so profusely -over the house, that each room might easily have been mistaken for -one. But in a large square room at the top of the house is the library -proper--workshop and study together. This building his poet’s nest -under the eaves of his own cornice is the one evidence of the recluse -in Stedman’s character. When he is about to pluck his own plumage -that his fledglings may be covered, he turns his back on the world. -All the paraphernalia of his toil are about him. The evidences of the -range and the extent of his reading and scholarship are to be found -in taking down some of the volumes on the shelves. Here are the Greek -classics, in the original, with loose sheets among the pages, where are -translations of Theocritus or Bion, done into finished English verse. -Mr. Stedman’s proficiency in Doric Greek is matched by his familiarity -with the modern French classics, whose lightness of touch and airy -grace he has caught in “Aucassin and Nicolette,” “Toujours Amour,” and -“Jean Prouvaire’s Song.” With a delicate sense of fitness, the dainty -verse of Coppée, Béranger, Théodore de Banville, the sonnets of Victor -Hugo, and, indeed, his whole collection of the French poets, is bound -in exquisite vellum or morocco. Among these volumes the poet’s own -works appear in several rare and beautiful editions. There are the -“Songs and Ballads,” issued by the Bookfellows Club, the essay on -Edgar Allan Poe in vellum (the first so bound in America), and other -beautifully illustrated and printed copies of his poems. The shelves -and tables are laden with a wealth of literary treasure. But there -is one volume one holds with a truly reverent delight. It is Mrs. -Browning’s own copy of “Casa Guidi Windows,” with interlineations and -corrections. It was the gift of the poetess to Mrs. Kinney, Stedman’s -mother, who was among Mrs. Browning’s intimate friends. “How John Brown -took Harper’s Ferry,” it is pleasant to learn, was an especial favorite -with the great songstress. - -Since the reversal of fortune which overwhelmed Mr. Stedman five years -ago, this charming home has been temporarily leased. The family, -however, were altogether fortunate in securing Bayard Taylor’s old home -in East Thirtieth Street, during an absence in Europe of the latter’s -wife and daughter. Here the conditions surrounding Stedman’s home life -have been necessarily changed. The arduous literary labor attendant -on the publishing of his recently completed volume on the “Poets of -America,” which completes the series of contemporaneous English and -American poets, together with his work on the “Library of American -Literature” (of which he and Miss Hutchinson are the joint editors), -the writing of magazine articles, poems and critiques, and the -increased cares of his business struggles, make him too hard-worked -a man to be available for the lighter social pleasures. The Sunday -evenings are, however, still maintained, as his one leisure hour, -and the hospitality is as generous as the present modest resources -of the household will permit. Mr. Stedman’s early career, and the -native toughness of fibre which has enabled him to fight a winning -battle against tremendous odds during his whole life, furnished -him with the fortitude and endurance with which he met his recent -calamity. The heroic element is a dominant note in his character. At -the very outset of his career he gave proof of the stuff that was in -him. Entering Yale College in 1849, and suspended in ’53 for certain -boyish irregularities, the man in him was born in a day. At nineteen -he went into journalism, married at twenty, and in another year was -an editor and a father. Ten years later, after service in all the -grades of newspaper life, the same energy of decision marked his next -departure. He gave up journalism, and went into active business in -Wall Street that he might have time for more independent, imaginative -writing. The bread-winning was so successful that in another ten years -he had gained a competence, and was about to retire from business, to -devote himself entirely to literary pursuits. He now returns to the -struggle with fortune with the old unworn, undaunted patience. He -has been sustained in the vicissitudes of his career by the cheering -companionship of his wife. Ever in sympathy with her husband’s work and -ambitions, Mrs. Stedman has possessed the gift of adaptability which -has enabled her to meet with befitting ease and dignity the varying -fortunes which have befallen them. In the earlier nomadic days she was -the Blanche, who, with the poet, rambled through the “faery realm” of -Bohemia. The “little King Arthur” is a grown man now, his father’s -co-worker and devoted aid. The king has abdicated in favor of a tiny -princess, who rules the household with her baby ways. This is another -Laura, _ætat_ four, who, with her mother, Mrs. Frederick Stedman, -completes the family circle. It needs the reiterated calls for grandpa -and grandma to impress one with the reality of the fact that this -still youthful-looking couple are not masquerading in the parts. Mr. -Stedman, in spite of his grayish beard and mustache, is a singularly -young-looking man for his years. He is slight, with slender figure -and delicate features. His motions and gestures are full of impulse -and energy. He has the bearing of a man who has measured his strength -with the world. The delicate refinement and finish of his work, as -well as its power and vigor, are foreshadowed in his _personnel_. His -manner is an epitome of his literary style. His face has the charm -which comes from high-bred features molded into the highest form of -expression--that of intellectual energy infused with a deep and keen -sympathetic quality. Something of this facial charm he inherits from -his mother, now Mrs. Kinney. As the lovely and brilliant wife of the -Hon. William B. Kinney, when the latter was American Minister at the -Court of Turin, this gifted lady won a European reputation for the -sparkling radiance of her beauty. - -As a talker Mr. Stedman possesses the first and highest of -qualities--that of spontaneity. The thought leaps at a bound into -expression. So rapid is the flow of ideas, and so fluent its delivery, -that one thought sometimes trips on the heels of the next. His talk, -in its range, its variety, and the multiplicity of subjects touched -upon, even more, perhaps, than his work, is an unconscious betrayal -of his many-sided life. The critic, the poet, the man of business and -the man of the world, the lover of nature, and the keen observer of -the social machinery of life, each by turn takes the ascendant. The -whole, woven together by a brilliant tissue of short, epigrammatic, -trenchant sentences, abounding in good things one longs to remember and -quote, forms a most picturesque and dazzling ensemble. Added to the -brilliancy, there is a genial glow of humor, and such an ardor and -enthusiasm in his capacity for admiration, as complete Mr. Stedman’s -equipment as a man and a conversationalist. He would not be a poet did -he not see his fellow-man aureoled with a halo. His natural attitude -toward life and men is an almost boyish belief and delight in their -being admirable. It is only on discovering they are otherwise that the -critic appears to soften the disappointment by the rigors of analysis. -Stedman is by nature an enthusiast. He owes it to his training that -he is a critic. As an enthusiast he has the fervor, the intensity, -the exaltation, which belong to the believer and the lover of all -things true and good and beautiful. He is as generous as he is ardent, -and his gift of praising is not to be counted as among the least of -his qualities. But the critic comes in to temper the ardor, to weigh -the value, and to test the capacity. And thus it is found that there -are two men in Mr. Stedman, one of whom appears to be perpetually in -pursuit of the other, and never quite to overtake him. - -If poets are born and not made this side of heaven, so are sportsmen. -In Stedman’s case the two appeared in one, to prove the duality -possible. Summer after summer, in the hard-won vacations, the two have -sailed the inland lakes and fished in the trout streams together; -the fisherman oblivious of all else save the movements of that most -animate of inanimate insects--the angler’s fly; the poet equally -absorbed in quite another order of motion--that of nature’s play. The -range of Mr. Stedman’s acquaintance among backwoodsmen and seafaring -men is in proportion to the extent of his journeyings. “There are at -least a hundred men with whom I am intimate who don’t dream I have -ever written a line,” I once overheard him say in the midst of a story -he was telling of the drolleries of some forest guide who was among -his “intimates.” This talent for companionship with classes of men -removed from his own social orbit has given Stedman that breadth of -sympathy and that sure vision in the fields of observation which makes -his critical work so unusual. He knows men as a naturalist knows the -kingdom of animal life. He can thus analyze and classify, not only the -writer, but the man, for he holds the key to a right comprehension of -character by virtue of his own plastic sensibility. His delight in -getting near to men who are at polaric distances from him socially, -makes him impatient of those whom so-called culture has removed to -Alpine heights from which to view their fellow-beings. “There’s so -and so,” he once said, in speaking of a second-rate poet whose verses -were æsthetic sighs to the south wind and the daffodil; “he thinks of -nothing but rhyming love and dove. I wonder what he would make out of -a man--a friend of mine, for instance, in the Maine woods, a creature -as big as Hercules, with a heart to match his strength. I should like -to see what he would make of him.” Stedman’s own personality is infused -with a raciness and a warmth peculiar to men who have the power of -freshening their own lives by that system of wholesome renewal called -human contact. Much of the secret of his social charm comes from his -delight in, and ready companionship with, all conditions of men. - -In his present study in the little house in Thirtieth Street there -are several photographs, scattered about the room, of a quaint and -picturesque seaside house. This is the summer home on the island of -New Castle, N. H. It has a tower which seems to have been built over -the crest of the waves, and a _loggia_ as wide and spacious as a -Florentine palace. No one but a sailor or a sea-lover could have chosen -such a spot. To Mr. Stedman, New Castle was a veritable _trouvaille_. -It fulfilled every condition of pleasure and comfort requisite in a -summer home. The sea was at his doors, and the elms and fields ran down -to meet it. The little island, with its quaint old fishing village, -its old colonial houses, its lanes and its lovely coast line, is the -most picturesque of microcosms ever set afloat. There is no railroad -nearer than three miles, and to reach it one crosses as many bridges -as span a Venetian canal. Mr. Stedman himself, the poet John Albee, -Barrett Wendell (one of Boston’s clever young authors), Prof. Bartlett, -of Harvard, and Jacob Wendell’s family, make a charming and intimate -little coterie. At Kelp Rock Mr. Stedman is only the poet, the genial -host, and the _bon camarade_. Business cares and thoughts are relegated -to the world whence they came. The most approachable of authors at -all times, at New Castle, with the sea and the sunshine to keep his -idleness in countenance, he seems fairly to irradiate companionship. -His idleness is of an order to set the rest of the world a lesson in -activity. In his play he is even more intense, if possible, than in -his work. The play consists of five or six hard-writing hours in his -tower during the morning. This is followed by an afternoon of sailing, -or fishing, or walking, any one of which forms of pleasure is planned -with a view to hard labor of some kind, some strenuous demand on the -physical forces. The evening finds him and his family, with some of the -group mentioned and often with stray visitors from the outer world, -before the drift-wood fire in the low-raftered hall, where talk and -good-cheer complete the day. - -With such abundantly vigorous energies, Mr. Stedman’s quarter of a -century of productiveness is only an earnest of his future work. He -has doubly pledged himself hereafter to the performance of strictly -original creative writing. As critic he has completed the work which -he set himself to do--that of rounding the circle of contemporaneous -poetry. In giving to the world such masterpieces of critical writing -as the “Victorian Poets” and “Poets of America,” he owes it to his own -muse to prove that the critic leaves the poet free. - - ANNA BOWMAN DODD. - -[Since this sketch was written (November, 1885) Mr. Stedman has sold -his Fifty-fourth Street house, leased a house in East Twenty-sixth -Street, bought one in West Seventy-eighth Street (1890) and sold it in -1895, at the same time that he disposed of “Kelp Rock.” His permanent -home is now at Lawrence Park--“Casa Laura,” named after his wife and -granddaughter--although he spent last winter in apartments in New York. -His most recent works are his Victorian and American Anthologies and -“Mater Coronata,” the poem written for the Bicentennial Celebration of -Yale University.--EDITORS.] - - - - - RICHARD HENRY STODDARD - - - - - RICHARD HENRY STODDARD - - IN NEW YORK - - -Among those New York men-of-letters who are “only that and nothing -more”--who are known simply as writers, and not as politicians or -public speakers, like George William Curtis in the older, or Theodore -Roosevelt in the younger, generation,--there is no figure more familiar -than that of Richard Henry Stoddard. The poet’s whole life since he -was ten years old has been passed on Manhattan Island; no feet, save -those of some veteran patrolman, “have worn its stony highways” more -persistently than his. The city has undergone many changes since the -boy landed at the Battery one Sunday morning over half a century ago, -and with his mother and her husband wandered up Broadway, but his -memory keeps the record of them all. - -It is not only New York that has changed its aspect in the hurrying -years; the times have changed, too, and the conditions of life are -not so hard for this adopted New Yorker as they were in his boyhood -and early youth. Perhaps he is not yet in a position to display the -motto of the Stoddards, “Post Nubes Lux,” which he once declared would -be his when the darkness that beclouded his fortunes had given place -to light. But his labors to-day, however irksome and monotonous, are -not altogether uncongenial. He is not yet free from the necessity of -doing a certain amount of literary hackwork (readers of _The Mail -and Express_ are selfish enough to hope he never will be); but he -has sympathetic occupation and surroundings, leisure to write verse -at other than the “mournful midnight hours,” a sure demand for all -he writes (a condition not last or least in the tale of a literary -worker’s temporal blessings), and, above all, that sense of having -won a place in the hearts of his fellow-men which should be even more -gratifying to a poet than the assurance of a niche in the Temple of -Fame. Such further gratification as this last assurance may give, Mr. -Stoddard certainly does not lack. - -The story of the poet’s life has been told so often, and in volumes so -readily accessible to all (the best account is to be found in “Poets’ -Homes,” Boston, D. Lothrop Co.), that I do not need to rehearse it -in detail. Like the lives of most poets, especially the poets of -America, it has not been an eventful one, if by eventful we imply those -marvelous achievements or startling changes of fortune that dazzle -the world. Yet what more marvelous than that the delicate flower -of poetry should be planted in a soil formed by the fusion of such -rugged elements as a New England sailing-master and the daughter of a -“horse-swapping” deacon? Or that, once planted there, it should have -not only survived, but grown and thriven amid the rigors of such an -early experience as Stoddard’s? These surely _are_ marvels, but marvels -to which mankind was passably accustomed even before Shelley told us -that the poet teaches in song only what he has learned in suffering. - -Mr. Stoddard was born July 2, 1825, at Hingham, Mass., the home of his -ancestors since 1638. The Stoddards were seafaring folk; the poet’s -father being one of those hardy New England captains whose bones now -whiten the mid-sea sands. It was a step-father that brought Richard and -his mother to New York; and here the boy had his only schooling and an -unpromising practical experience of life. The reading and writing of -poetry kept his soul alive during these dark days, and his achievements -did not fail of appreciation. Poe paid him the back-handed compliment -of pronouncing a poem he had written too good to be original; while -N. P. Willis more directly encouraged him to write. So also did Park -Benjamin, Lewis Gaylord Clarke, and Mrs. Caroline M. Kirkland. But the -first friendship formed with a writer of his own age resulted from -a call on Bayard Taylor--already the author of “Views Afoot” and one -of the editors of the _Tribune_,--who had accepted some verses of the -poet’s, and who was, later on, the means of making him acquainted with -another young poet and critic--the third member of a famous literary -trio. This was Edmund Clarence Stedman, a younger man than the other -two by eight years or so; then (in 1859) but twenty-six years old, -though he had already made himself conspicuous by “The Diamond Wedding” -and “How Old Brown took Harper’s Ferry.” With Taylor Mr. Stoddard’s -intimacy continued till the death of that distinguished traveler, -journalist, poet, translator and Minister to Germany; with Stedman his -friendship is still unbroken. He has had many friends, and many are -left to him, but none have stood closer than these in the little circle -in which he is known as “Dick.” - -When Mr. Stoddard met the woman he was to marry, he had already -published, or rather printed (at his own expense), a volume called -“Footprints.” The poems were pleasantly noticed in two or three -magazines, and one copy of them was sold. As there was no call for the -remainder of the edition, it was committed to the flames. Encouraged -by this success, the young poet saw no impropriety in becoming the -husband of a young lady of Mattapoisett. Elizabeth Barstow was her -name, and the tie that bound them was a common love of books. It was -at twenty-five (some years before his first meeting with Taylor or -Stedman) that the penniless poet and the ship-builder’s daughter were -made one by the Rev. Ralph Hoyt, an amiable clergyman of this city, -“who found it easier to marry the poet than to praise his verses.” - -Realizing that man cannot live by poetry alone, particularly when he -has given hostages to fortune (as Bacon, not Shakspeare, puts it) he -set to work to teach himself to write prose, “and found that he was -either a slow teacher, or a slow scholar, probably both.” But prose and -verse together, though by no means lavish in their rewards to-day, were -still less bountiful in the early ’50s; and even when the slow pupil -had acquired what the slow teacher had to impart, he was in a fair -way to learn by experience whether or no “love is enough” for husband -and wife and an increasing family of children. Not long before this, -however, it had been Mr. Stoddard’s good fortune to become acquainted -with Hawthorne, and through the romancer’s friendly intervention he -received from President Pierce an appointment in the New York Custom -House. He was just twenty-eight years of age when he entered the -granite temple in Wall Street, and he was forty-five when he regained -his freedom from official bondage. - -It was in 1870 that Mr. Stoddard lost his position in the Custom House. -Shortly afterwards he became a clerk in the New York Dock Department, -under Gen. McClellan; and, in 1877, Librarian of the City Library--an -anomalous position, better suited to his tastes and capabilities in -title than in fact, since the Library is a library only in name, its -shelves being burdened with books that would have come under Lamb’s -most cordial ban. The librarianship naturally came to an end in not -more than two years. Since then, or about that date, Mr. Stoddard has -been the literary editor of _The Mail and Express_--a position in -which he has found it hard to do his best work, perhaps, but in which -he has at least given a literary tone to the paper not common to our -dailies. He has also been an occasional contributor to _The Critic_ -since its foundation; until recently he was a leading review-writer for -the _Tribune_; and he is still to be found now and then in the poets’ -corner of _The Independent_. Of the books he has written or edited -it is unnecessary to give the list; it can be found in almost any -biographical dictionary. The volume on which his fame will rest is his -“Poetical Works,” published by the Scribners. It contains some of the -most beautiful lyrics and blank-verse ever written in America--some of -the most beautiful written anywhere during the poet’s life-time. His -verse is copious in amount, rich in thought, feeling, and imagination, -simple and sensuous in expression. The taste of readers and lovers of -English poetry must undergo a radical change indeed, if such poems as -the stately Horatian ode on Lincoln, the Keats and Lincoln sonnets, -the “Hymn to the Beautiful,” “The Flight of Youth,” “Irreparable,” -“Sorrow and Joy,” “The Flower of Love Lies Bleeding,” or the pathetic -poems grouped in the collective edition of the poet’s verses under the -general title of “In Memoriam,” are ever to be forgotten or misprized. -In prose, too--the medium he found it so difficult to teach himself -to use,--he has put forth (often anonymously) innumerable essays and -sketches betraying a ripe knowledge of literature and literary history -together with the keenest critical acumen, and flashing and glowing -with alternate wit and humor. Long practice has given him the mastery -of a style as individual as it is pleasing: once familiar with it, one -needs no signature to tell whether he is the author of a given article. - -The Stoddards’ home has been, for sixteen years, the first of a row of -three-story-and-basement houses, built of brick and painted a light -yellow, that runs eastward along the north side of East Fifteenth -Street, from the south-east corner of Stuyvesant Square. Like its -neighbors it is distinguished from the conventional New York house -by a veranda that shades the doorway and first-floor windows. The -neighborhood to the east is unattractive; to the west, delightful. -Stuyvesant Square--“Squares” it should be, for Second Avenue, with -its endless file of horse-cars, trucks, carriages and foot-travelers, -bisects the stately little park--is one of the most beautiful as well -as one of the most “aristocratic” quarters of the city. (Was it not -from Stuyvesant Square that the late Richard Grant White dedicated one -of his last books to a noble English lady?) It is the quarter long -known to and frequented by the Stuyvesants, the Rutherfords, the Fishs, -the Jays. Senator Evarts’s city home is but a block below the Square. -The twin steeples of fashionable St. George’s keep sleepless watch over -its shaded walks and sparkling fountains. By the bell of the old church -clock the poet can regulate his domestic time-piece; for its sonorous -hourly strokes, far-heard at night, are but half-muffled by the loudest -noises of the day; or should they chance to be altogether hushed, -the passer-by has but to raise his eyes to one of the huge faces to -see the gilt hands gleaming in the sun or moonlight. St. George’s is -on the opposite side of the Square to Mr. Stoddard’s, at the corner -of Rutherford Place and Sixteenth Street; and a Friends’ School and -Meeting-House fill the space between this and the Fifteenth Street -corner. Past the latter, the poet--true to the kindred points of club -and home--is a constant wayfarer. For the Century Association, of which -he is one of the oldest members, commands his interest now as it did -when housed at No. 109 in the same street that holds the Stoddards’ -household gods. The number at which the family receive their friends -and mail, and give daily audience (vicariously) to the inevitable -butcher and baker, is 329. - -It has taken us a long while to get here, but here we are at last; -and I, for my part, am in no hurry to get away again. It is just -such a house as you would expect to find a man like Stoddard in: a -poet’s home and literary workshop. There is no space, and no need, -for a parlor. The front room (to the left as you enter the house) is -called the library. Its general air is decidedly luxurious. There is -a profusion of easy chairs and lounges, and of graceful tables laden -with odd and precious bits of bric-à-brac. There is more bric-à-brac on -the mantel-piece. The walls are covered close with paintings. At the -windows hang heavy curtains; and the portière at a wide doorway at the -back of the apartment frames a pleasant glimpse of the dining-room. -Rugs of various dimensions cover the matting almost without break. -The fireplace is flanked on each side by high book-cases of -artistically carved dark wood, filled with books in handsome bindings. -A full-length portrait of an officer in uniform fills the space above -the mantel-piece: it is Colonel Wilson Barstow, of General Dix’s staff, -who served at Fortress Monroe during the war, and died in 1868. It -hangs where it does because the Colonel was Mrs. Stoddard’s brother. -Between the front windows is a plaster medallion of the master of the -house, by his old friend Launt Thompson. (A similar likeness of “Willy” -Stoddard, and a plaster cast of his little hand, both by Mr. Thompson, -are the only perishable mementoes his parents now possess--save “a lock -of curly golden hair”--to remind them of their first-born, dead since -’61.) On the east wall is a canvas somewhat more than a foot square, -giving a full-length view of Mr. Stoddard, standing, as he appeared to -T. W. Wood in 1873, when the snow-white hair against which the laurel -shows so green to-day had just begun to lose its glossy blackness. -Alongside of this hangs a larger frame, showing W. T. Richards’s -conception of “The Castle in the Air” described in the first poem of -Stoddard’s that attracted wide attention,-- - - A stately marble pile whose pillars rise - From deep-set bases fluted to the dome. - - * * * * * - - The spacious windows front the rising sun, - And when its splendor smites them, many-paned, - Tri-arched and richly-stained, - A thousand mornings brighten there as one. - -The painting has grown mellow with the flight of a quarter-century. -It shows the influence of Turner very plainly, and is accepted by the -painter of the scene in words as a fair interpretation in color of -the _château en Espagne_ of his song. It was a favorite of Sandford -Gifford’s--another dear friend of the poet’s, whose handiwork in lake -and mountain scenery lights up other corners of the room. Kindred -treasures are a masterly head, by Eastman Johnson, of a Nantucket -fisherman, gazing seaward through his glass; a glimpse of the Alps, -presented by Bierstadt to Mrs. Stoddard; a swamp-scene, by Homer -Martin, in his earlier manner; a view of the Bay of Naples, by -Charles Temple Dix, the General’s son; and bits of color by Smillie, -Jarvis McEntee, S. G. W. Benjamin, and Miss Fidelia Bridges. Two -panels (“Winter” and “Summer”) were given to the owner by a friend -who had once leased a studio to J. C. Thom, a pupil of Edouard -Frère. When the artist gave up the room, these pictures were sawed -out of the doors on which he had painted them. Besides two or three -English water-colors, there are small copies by the late Cephas G. -Thompson, whose art Hawthorne delighted to praise, of Simon Memmi’s -heads of Petrarch and Laura, at Florence. A more personal interest -attaches to an oil-painting by Bayard Taylor--a peep at Buzzard’s Bay -from Mattapoisett, disclosing a part of the view visible from Mrs. -Stoddard’s early home. Not all of these works are to be found in the -library; for in our hurried tour of inspection we have crossed the -threshold of the dining-room, where such prosaic bits of furniture as a -sideboard, dinner-table and straight-backed chairs hold back the flood -of books. One wave has swept through, however, and is held captive in a -small case standing near the back windows. The summer light that finds -its way into this room is filtered through a mass of leaves shading a -veranda similar to the one in front. - -The poet’s “den,” on the second floor, embraces the main room and an -alcove, and is lighted by three windows overlooking the street. His -writing-desk--a mahogany one, of ancient make--stands between two of -the windows. Above it hangs a large engraving of Lawrence’s Thackeray, -beneath which, in the same frame, you may read “The Sorrows of Werther” -in the balladist’s own inimitable hand. As you sit at the desk, Mrs. -Browning looks down upon you from a large photograph on the wall at -your right--one which her husband deemed the best she ever had taken. -A delicate engraving hangs beside it of Holmes’s miniature of Byron--a -portrait of which Byron himself said, “I prefer that likeness to any -which has ever been done of me by any artist whatever.” It shows a -head almost feminine in its beauty. An etching of Hugo is framed above -a striking autograph that Mr. Stoddard paid a good price for--at a -time, as he says, when he thought he had some money. The sentiment -is practical: “Donnez cent francs aux pauvres de New York. Donnez -moins, si vous n’êtes pas assez riche; mais donnez. VICTOR HUGO.” -The manuscript, which looks as if it might have been written with a -sharpened match, is undated and unaddressed. Every one, therefore, is -at liberty to regard it as a personal appeal or command to himself. -Close beside the Byron portrait is an etching of Mr. Stedman; into its -frame the owner has thrust that gentleman’s visiting card, on which, -over the date “Feb. 14, 1885,” are scribbled these lines: - - It is a Friar of whiskers gray - That kneels before your shrine, - And, as of old, would once more pray - To be your VALENTINE. - -Among the treasures of mingled literary and artistic interest in this -room is a small portrait of Smollett. It is painted on wood, and the -artist’s name is not given. Mr. Stoddard has not found it reproduced -among the familiar likenesses of the novelist. Along the wall above the -mantel-piece runs a rare print of Blake’s “Canterbury Pilgrimage,” -with the designation of each pilgrim engraved beneath his figure. It -is noteworthy for its dissimilarity, as well as its likeness, to the -poet-painter’s more familiar works. The main wall in the alcove I -have spoken of displays a life-size crayon head of Mr. Stoddard, done -by Alexander Laurie in 1863. It also gives support to several rows -of shelves, running far and rising high, filled chock-full of books -less prettily bound than those in the library, but of greater value, -perhaps, to the eyes that have so often pored upon them. It is the -poet’s collection, to which he has been adding ever since he was a -boy, of English poetry of all periods; and it has been consulted to -good purpose by many other scholars than the owner. Under an engraving -of Raphael’s portrait of himself, at the back of the larger room, is -a case filled with books of the same class, but rarer still--indeed, -quite priceless to their owner; for they are the tomes once treasured -by kindred spirits, and inscribed with names writ in that indelible -water which still preserves the name of Keats. - -Of the books of this class, from the libraries of famous authors--some -being presentation copies, and others containing either the owners’ -signatures or their autographic annotations of the text,--may be -mentioned volumes that once belonged to Edmund Waller, Thomas Gray, -Sir Joshua Reynolds, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Charles Lamb, William -Wordsworth, John Keats, Robert Southey, Hartley Coleridge, Lord -Byron, Thomas Lisle Bowles, Felicia Hemans, Thomas Campbell, William -Motherwell, and Caroline Norton. Among signatures or documents in -the manuscript of famous men are the names of William Alexander, -Earl of Sterling; Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke; Thomas Sackville, -Lord Buckhurst, author of “Gorboduc”; Samuel Garth, author of “The -Dispensary,” and others. Among the manuscripts cherished by Mr. -Stoddard are letters or poems from the pens of William Shenstone, -Burns, Cowper, Sheridan, Southey, Wordsworth, Sir Walter Scott, Thomas -Moore, Campbell, Dickens, Thackeray, Bryant, Longfellow, Poe, Lowell, -Bayard Taylor, Ebenezer Elliott, “the Corn Law Rhymer”; Walter Savage -Landor, James Montgomery, Felicia Hemans, Thomas Hood, Bryan Waller -Procter (“Barry Cornwall”), Miss Mitford, Lord Tennyson, Swinburne, -Frederick Locker-Lampson, N. P. Willis, Charles Brockden Brown, J. G. -Whittier, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Leigh Hunt, Washington Irving, Robert -Browning, Mrs. Browning, and scores of other English and American poets -and writers of distinction. - -Included in this choice collection are the manuscripts of Hunt’s “Abou -Ben Adhem,” Thackeray’s “Sorrows of Werther,” Bryant’s “Antiquity of -Freedom,” Longfellow’s “Arrow and Song” (“I shot an arrow into the -air”), Mrs. Browning’s “Castrucci Castricanni,” pages of Bryant’s -translation of Homer, Tennyson’s “Tears, Idle Tears,” Lord Houghton’s -“I Wandered by the Brookside,” Barry Cornwall’s “Mother’s Last Song,” -Sheridan’s “Clio’s Protest” (containing the famous lines, - - They write with ease to show their breeding, - But easy writing’s cursed hard reading), - -Poe’s sonnet “To Zante,” Holmes’s “Last Leaf,” Lowell’s “Zekle’s -Courtin’” and a manuscript volume containing nearly all of Bayard -Taylor’s “Poems of the Orient.” His library of English poets contains -many now scarce first editions--Drayton’s Poems, 1619; Lord Sterling’s -“Monarchic Tragedies,” 1602; Brooke’s “Alaham Mustapha,” 1631; Milton’s -Poems, 1645; the early editions of Suckling, etc. - -The most precious of all Mr. Stoddard’s literary relics is a lock of -light brown or golden hair--the veriest wisp,--that came to him from -his friend and brother poet Mr. George H. Boker of Philadelphia. Mr. -Boker had it from Leigh Hunt’s American editor, S. Adams Lee, to whom -it was given by Hunt himself. It was “the distinguished physician -Dr. Beatty” who gave it to the English poet; and it was Hoole, the -translator of Tasso, who gave it to Beatty. The next previous owner to -Hoole was Dr. Samuel Johnson. Further back than this, Leigh Hunt could -not trace it; but he believed it to be a portion of the lock attached -to a miniature portrait of Milton known to have existed in the time of -Addison and supposed to have been in his possession. That it came from -the august head of the poet of “Paradise Lost” had never been doubted -down to Dr. Beatty’s day; so at least wrote Hunt, in a manuscript of -which Mr. Stoddard preserves a copy, in Lee’s handwriting, in a volume -of Hunt’s poems edited by that gentleman. There is a fine sonnet of -Hunt’s on these golden threads, written when they passed into his -possession; and Keats’s poem, “On Seeing a Lock of Milton’s Hair,” has -made the relic still more memorable. It is smaller now than it was -when these great spirits were sojourning on earth, for Leigh Hunt gave -a part of it to Mrs. Browning. “Reverence these hairs, O Americans! -(as indeed you will),” he wrote, “for _in them_ your great Republican -harbinger on this side of the Atlantic appears, for the first time, -actually and _bodily_ present on the other side of it.” A companion -locket holds a wisp of silver hairs from the head of Washington. - -It would be a serious oversight to ignore any member of the little -Stoddard household--to make no mention of that gifted woman who caught -the contagion of writing from her husband, and has won not only his -cordial “Well done,” but the admiration of such authoritative critics -as Hawthorne and Stedman, to name but these two; or of that son who -is now an only child, and therefore trebly dear to both his parents. -Mrs. Stoddard is known and admired as a poet; the bound volumes of -_Harper’s Monthly_ bear abundant testimony to her skill as a writer -of short stories; and her powers as a novelist are receiving fresh -recognition through the republication, by Cassell & Co., of “Two Men,” -“The Morgesons” and “Temple House.” The son, Lorimer, a youth of -twenty-four, has chosen the stage as his profession, and in that very -popular piece, “The Henrietta,” has made his mark in the character of -the young nobleman. In speaking of the home of the Stoddards, some -reference to the long-haired little terrier, Œnone, may be pardoned. -She has been an inmate of the house for many years; and she trots -here and there about it, upstairs and down, as freely and with as few -misadventures as if she were not stone-blind. - -The blindness of Œnone reminds me that her master (whom rheumatism -once robbed of the use of his right hand for many years) is gradually -losing the use of his eyes. I found him this summer, on his return -from a few weeks’ sojourn in the Adirondacks, reading and writing with -the aid of a powerful magnifying-glass. He said the trip had done him -little good in this respect; and the glare of the sunlight upon the -salt water at Sag Harbor, whither he was about to repair for the rest -of the season, was not likely to prove more beneficial. This seashore -town, where his friend Julian Hawthorne long since established himself, -has of late years taken Mattapoisett’s place as the Stoddards’ summer -home. - -A personal description of Mr. Stoddard should be unnecessary. At this -late day few of his readers can be unfamiliar with his face. It has -been engraved more than once, and printed not only with his collected -poems, but in magazines of wider circulation than the books of any -living American poet. It is not likely to disappoint the admirer of -his work, for it is a poet’s face, as well as a handsome one. The -clear-cut, regular features are almost feminine in their delicacy; -but in the dark eyes, now somewhat dimmed though full of thought and -feeling, there is a look that counteracts any impression of effeminacy -due to the refinement of the features, or the melodious softness of -the voice. The hair and beard of snowy whiteness make a harmonious -setting for the poet’s ruddy countenance. Though slightly bowed, as he -steps forward to meet you (with left hand advanced) Mr. Stoddard still -impresses you as a man of more than middle height. His cordial though -undemonstrative greeting puts the stranger at his ease at once; for his -manner is as gentle as his speech is frank. - - JOSEPH B. GILDER. - - - - - HARRIET BEECHER STOWE - - - - - HARRIET BEECHER STOWE - - IN HARTFORD - - -Until Mrs. Stowe’s health began to fail, twice a day regularly she -walked abroad for an hour or more, and between times she was apt to -be more or less out of doors. The weather had to be unmistakably -prohibitory to keep her housed from morning till night. Not -infrequently her forenoon stroll took her to the house of her son, -the Rev. Charles E. Stowe, two miles away, in the north part of the -city. So long as the season admitted of it, she inclined to get off -the pavement into the fields; and she was not afraid to climb over or -under a fence. As one would infer from her writings, she was extremely -fond of wild flowers, and from early spring to late autumn invariably -came in with her hands full of them. To a friend who met her once on -one of her outings, she exhibited a spray of leaves, and passed on -with the single disconsolate remark, “Not one flower can I find,” as -if she had failed of her object. As a general thing she preferred to -be unaccompanied on her walks. She moved along at a good pace, but, so -to speak, quietly, with her head bent somewhat forward, and at times -so wrapped in thought as to pass without recognition people whom she -knew, even when saluted by them. Yet she would often pause to talk -with children whom she saw at their sports, and amuse both herself and -them with kindly inquiries about their affairs--the game they were -playing or what not. One day she stopped a little girl of the writer’s -acquaintance, who was performing the then rather unfeminine feat of -riding a bicycle, and had her show how she managed the mount and the -dismount, etc., while she looked on laughing and applauding. It was -very much her way, in making her pedestrian rounds, to linger and -watch workingmen employed in their various crafts, and to enter into -conversation with them--always in a manner to give them pleasure. She -said once: “I keep track of all the new houses going up in town, and -I have talked with the men who are building most of them.” A number -of years ago her brother, Henry Ward Beecher, sent her a letter which -he had received from a friend in Germany, condoling with him on the -supposed event of her decease, a rumor of which had somehow got started -in Europe; and this letter afforded her no little entertainment, -especially its closing with the expression “Peace to her ashes.” “I -guess,” she observed with a humorous smile, and using her native -dialect, “the gentleman would think my ashes pretty lively, if he was -here.” To what multitudes was her continued presence in the world she -blessed a grateful circumstance! - -Mrs. Stowe resided in Hartford after 1864, the family having removed -thither from Andover, Massachusetts, upon the termination of Prof. -Stowe’s active professional career. Her attachment to the city dated -back to her youth, when she passed some years there. It was also the -home of several of her kindred and near friends. She first lived -in a house built for her after her own design--a delightful house, -therefore. But its location proved, by and by, for various reasons, -so unsatisfactory that it was given up; and after an interval, spent -chiefly at her summer place in Florida, the house where she lived until -her death in 1896, was purchased. It is an entirely modest dwelling, -of the cottage style, and stands about a mile west of the Capitol in -Forest Street, facing the east. The plot which it occupies--only a -few square rods in extent--is well planted with shrubbery (there is -scarcely space for trees) and is, of course, bright with flowers in -their season. At the rear it joins the grounds of Mark Twain, and is -but two minutes’ walk distant from the former home of Charles Dudley -Warner. The interior of the house is plain, and of an ordinary plan. On -the right, as you enter, the hall opens into a good-sized parlor, which -in turn opens into another back of it. On the left is the dining-room. -In furnishing it is altogether simple, as suits with its character, -and with the moderate circumstances of its occupants. Yet it is a -thoroughly attractive and charming home; for it bears throughout, -in every detail of arrangement, the signature of that refined taste -which has the art and secret of giving an air of grace to whatever -it touches. The pictures, which are obviously heart selections, are -skilfully placed, and seem to extend to the caller a friendly greeting. -Among them are a number of flower-pieces (chiefly wild) by Mrs. Stowe’s -own hand. - -While there are abundant indications of literary culture visible, there -is little to denote the abode of one of the most famous authors of -the age. Still, by one and another token, an observant stranger would -soon discover whose house he was in, and be reminded of the world-wide -distinction her genius won, and of that great service of humanity with -which her name is forever identified. He would, for instance, remark -on its pedestal in the bow-window, a beautiful bronze statuette, by -Cumberworth, called “The African Woman of the Fountain”; and on an -easel in the back parlor a lovely engraving of the late Duchess of -Sutherland and her daughter--a gift from her son, the present Duke -of that name--subscribed: “Mrs. Stowe, with the Duke of Sutherland’s -kind regards, 1869.” Should he look into a low oaken case standing in -the hall, he would find there the twenty-six folio volumes of the -“Affectionate and Christian Address of Many Thousands of Women in -Great Britain and Ireland to their Sisters of the United States of -America,” pleading the cause of the slave, and signed with over half -a million names, which was delivered to Mrs. Stowe in person, at a -notable gathering at Stafford House, in England, in 1853; and with it -similar addresses from the citizens of Leeds, Glasgow and Edinburgh, -presented at about the same time. The house, indeed, is a treasury -of such relics, testimonials of reverence and gratitude, trophies of -renown from many lands--enough to furnish a museum--all of the highest -historic interest and value; but for the most part they are out of -sight. Hid away in closets and seldom-opened book-cases is a priceless -library of “Uncle Tom” literature, including copies of most of its -thirty-seven translations. Somewhere is Mrs. Stowe’s copy of the first -American edition, with the first sheet of the original manuscript -(which, however, was not written first) pasted on the fly-leaf, showing -that three several beginnings were made before the setting of the -introductory scene was fixed upon. - -There are relics, also, of a more private sort. For example, a smooth -stone of two or three pounds weight, and a sketch or study on it -by Ruskin, made at a hotel on Lake Neufchâtel, where he and Mrs. -Stowe chanced to meet; he having fetched it in from the lake-shore -one evening and painted it in her presence to illustrate his meaning -in something he had said. One of her most prized possessions was a -golden chain of ten links, which, on occasion of the gathering at -Stafford House that has been referred to, the Duchess of Sutherland -took from her own arm and clasped upon Mrs. Stowe’s, saying: “This -is the memorial of a chain which we trust will soon be broken.” On -several of the ten links were engraved the great dates in the annals of -emancipation in England; and the hope was expressed that she would live -to add to them other dates of like import in the progress of liberty -this side the Atlantic. That was in 1853. Twelve years later every link -had its inscription, and the record was complete. - -It was difficult to realize, as one was shown memorials of this kind, -that the fragile, gentle-voiced little lady, who stood by explaining -them, was herself the heroine in chief of the sublime conflict they -recall. For a more unpretending person every way than she was, or one -seeming to be more unconscious of gifts and works of genius, or of a -great part acted in life, it is not possible to imagine. In her quiet -home, attended by her daughters, surrounded by respect and affection, -filled with the divine calm of the Christian faith, in perfect charity -with all mankind, the most celebrated of American women passed the -tranquil evening of her days. She would often be found seated at the -piano, her hand straying over its keys--that hand that was clothed with -such mighty power,--singing softly to herself those hymns of Gospel -hope which were dear to her heart through all her earthly pilgrimage, -alike in cloud and in sunshine. During her last years she almost wholly -laid her pen aside, her last work having been the preparation, with her -son’s assistance, of a brief memoir of her honored husband, who passed -away in 1886. - -There continued to come to her in retirement, often from distant -and exalted sources, messages of honor and remembrance, which she -welcomed with equal pleasure and humility. Among them was a letter -from Mr. Gladstone, inspired by his reading “The Minister’s Wooing” -for the first time, and written in the midst of his public cares. What -satisfaction it gave her may be judged by an extract from it. After -telling her that, though he had long meant to read the book, he had -not found an opportunity to do so till a month or two before, he says: -“It was only then that I acquired a personal acquaintance with the -beautiful and noble picture of Puritan life which in that work you have -exhibited, upon a pattern felicitous beyond example, so far as my -knowledge goes. I really know not among four or five of the characters -(though I suppose Mary ought to be preferred as nearest to the image of -our Saviour), to which to give the crown. But under all circumstances -and apart from the greatest claims, I must reserve a little corner of -admiration for Cerinthy Ann.” - - JOSEPH H. TWICHELL. - - - - - CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER - - - - - CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER - - IN HARTFORD - - -Three-quarters of a mile west of the railway station, in an angle which -Farmington Avenue makes with Forest Street, and where the town looks -out into the country, lived Mr. Warner, with Harriet Beecher Stowe and -Mark Twain for his near neighbors. The houses where they once lived are -but a stone’s throw apart. No stones were thrown between them, however, -the three authors having been not on stone-throwing terms, but very -far otherwise. Mr. Warner’s house is a spacious, attractive dwelling, -of the colonial style. It stands, unenclosed, several rods back from -the street, in a grove of noble chestnuts, having no other grounds nor -needing any other. Close behind it, at the foot of a steep, bushy bank, -sweeps the bend of a considerable stream. - -The Garden, which Mr. Warner has made so famous, will be looked for -in vain on the premises. Indoors, indeed, the sage “Calvin” is found -enjoying, on a mantel, such immortality as a bronze bust can confer; -but nowhere the Garden. It pertained to another house, where Mr. -Warner lived when “My Summer in a Garden” was written; the fireside -of which, also, is celebrated in his “Back-log Studies,” to not a few -of his readers the most delightful of his books,--a house dear to the -recollection of many a friend and guest. While it is true that Mr. -Warner’s experiment of horticulture was, in the time of it, something -of a reality, its main success, it may be owned without disparagement, -was literary; and with the ripening of its literary product, the -impulse to it expired. - -As one would anticipate, the interior of Mr. Warner’s house is genial -and homelike. A cheerful drawing-room opens into a wide, bright -music-room, making, with it, one shapely apartment of generous, -hospitable proportions. The furnishing is simple, but in every item -pleasing. The hand of modern decorative art is there, though under -rational restraint. A chimney-piece of Oriental design rises above -the fireplace of the music-room set with antique tiles brought by Mr. -Warner from Damascus. Other spoils of travel are displayed here and -there, with pictures and engravings of the best. In the nook of a -bow-window is a lovely cast of the Venus of Milo, which, when it was -made a birthday present in the family, was inscribed “The Venus of -my-h’eye.” The house is full of books. Every part of it is more or less -of a library. Laden shelves flank the landings of the broad stairway, -and so on all the way up to the work-room in the third story, where -the statuette of Thackeray on our author’s table seems to survey with -amusement the accumulated miscellaneous mass of literature stacked -and piled around. Upon any volume of this collection Mr. Warner could -lay his hand in an instant--when he found where it was. This opulence -of books was partly due to the fact that Mr. Warner was a newspaper -editor, and in that capacity had the general issue of the press -precipitated upon him. Not that he kept it all. The theological works -and Biblical commentaries mostly went to the minister. And there are -a score of children about, whose juvenile libraries are largely made -up of contributions from “Uncle Charley.” His home was a thoroughly -charming one in every way, and whoever may have had the pleasure of -an evening there must have come away wishing that he might write an -article on the mistress of that house. - -Here Mr. Warner spent his forenoons and did his literary work. He -was very industrious, and was an unusually rapid writer. Some of his -most enjoyed sketches that are apt to be quoted as specimens of his -best work, peculiarly exhibiting his delicate and amiable humor and -the characteristic merits of his style, were finished at a sitting. -In the afternoon he was “down town” on duty as editor-in-chief -of _The Hartford Courant_--the oldest newspaper in continuous -existence in this country, having been founded in 1764. His associate -editor-in-chief was Gen. Joseph R. Hawley, of the United States Senate. -The main pursuit of Mr. Warner’s life was journalism. His native turn -was literary. The ink began to stir in his veins when he was a boy. -In his youth he was a contributor to the old _Knickerbocker_ and -_Putnam’s Magazine_. But circumstances did not permit him to follow his -bent. After graduating at college, he engaged for awhile in railroad -surveying in the West; then studied, and for a short time practised, -law; but finally, at the call of his friend Hawley, came to Hartford -and settled down to the work of an editor, devoting his whole strength -to it, with marked success from the outset, and so continued for the -years before, during and after the War, supposing that as a journalist -he had found his place and his career. His editorial work, however, was -such as to give him a distinctly literary reputation; and a share of it -was literary in form and motive. People used to preserve his Christmas -stories and letters of travel in their scrap-books. The chapters of “My -Summer in a Garden” were originally a series of articles written for -his paper, without a thought of further publication. It was in response -to numerous suggestions coming to him from various quarters that they -were made into a book. The extraordinary favor with which the little -volume was received was a surprise to Mr. Warner, who insisted that -there was nothing in it better than he had been accustomed to write. He -was much disposed to view the hit he had made as an accident, and to -doubt if it would lead to anything further in the line of authorship. -But he was mistaken. The purveyors of literature were after him at -once. That was in 1870. Since then his published works have grown to a -considerable list. - -His stock of material was ample and was constantly replenished. -His mind was eminently of the inquiring and acquisitive order. His -travels were fruitful of large information to him. He returned from -his journey to the East, which produced “My Winter on the Nile” and -“In the Levant,” with a knowledge of Egyptian art and history such -as few travellers gain, and with a rare insight into the intricate -ins and outs of the Eastern question, past and present. Though not -an orator, hardly a season passed that he was not invited to give an -address at some college anniversary--an invitation which he several -times accepted. He once also delivered, in various colleges, a course -of lectures of great interest and value, on “The Relation of Literature -to Life.” He was an enthusiastic believer in the classic culture, and -has repeatedly written and spoken in its defense. His humor was in his -grain, and was the humor of a man of very deep convictions and earnest -character. Mr. Warner was highly esteemed among his fellow-citizens, -and was often called to serve in one public capacity or another. He -was for a number of years a member of the Park Commission of the city -of Hartford; and he at one time rendered a report to the Connecticut -Legislature, as chairman of a special Prison Commission appointed by -the State. He was a communicant in the Congregational Church, and until -his death in 1900, a constant attendant on public worship. - -Mr. Warner was a good-looking man; tall, spare, and erect in frame, -with a strong countenance indicative of thought and refinement. His -head was capacious, his forehead high and clear, and the kindly eyes -behind his eye-glasses were noticeably wide-open. He was remarked -anywhere as a person of decidedly striking appearance. The years -powdered his full beard and abundant clustering hair, but he walked -with a quick, energetic step, with his head thrown back, and pushing -on as if he were after something. In going back and forth daily -between his house and his editorial room in the _Courant_ Building, he -disdained the street railway service, habitually making the trip of -something over a mile each way afoot, in all weathers. His pedestrian -powers were first-rate, and he took great pleasure in exerting them. -He liked to shoulder a knapsack and go off on a week’s tramp through -the Catskill or White Mountains, and whoever went with him was sure -of enough exercise. He was fond of exploration, and once made, in -successive seasons, two quite extensive horseback excursions--with -Prof. T. R. Lounsbury, of the Sheffield Scientific School at Yale, -for his companion--through the unfrequented parts of Pennsylvania, -Tennessee and North Carolina. Of the second of these excursions he -prepared an account in a series of articles for _The Atlantic_. He -had the keenest relish for outdoor life, especially in the woods. His -favorite vacation resort was the Adirondack region, where, first and -last, he has camped out a great many weeks. His delectable little book, -“In the Wilderness,” came of studies of human and other nature there -made. He was an expert and patient angler, but enjoyed nothing so much -as following all day a forest trail through some before-unvisited -tract, halting to bivouac under the open sky, wherever overtaken by -night. He was easily companionable with anybody he chanced to be with, -and under such circumstances, while luxuriating around the camp-fire, -smoking his moderate pipe, would be not unlikely to keep his guide up -half the night, drawing him out and getting at his views and notions on -all sorts of subjects. - - JOSEPH H. TWICHELL. - - - - - WALT WHITMAN - - - - - WALT WHITMAN - - IN CAMDEN - - -It is not a little difficult to write an article about Walt Whitman’s -_home_, for it was once humorously said by himself that he had all his -life possessed a home only in the sense that a ship possesses one. -Hardly, indeed, till the year 1884 could he be called the occupant of -such a definite place, even the kind of one I shall presently describe. -To illustrate his own half-jocular remark as just given, and to jot -down a few facts about the poet in Camden in the home where he died, is -my only purpose in this article. I have decided to steer clear of any -criticism of “Leaves of Grass,” and confine myself to his condition and -a brief outline of his personal history. I should also like to dwell a -moment on what may be called the peculiar outfit or schooling he chose, -to fulfill his mission as poet, according to his own ideal. - -In the observation of the drama of human nature--if, indeed, “all -the world’s a stage”--Walt Whitman had rare advantages as auditor, -from the beginning. Several of his earlier years, embracing the age -of fifteen to twenty-one, were spent in teaching country schools in -Queens and Suffolk counties, New York, following the quaint old fashion -of “boarding round,” that is, moving from house to house and farm to -farm, among high and low, living a few days alternately at each, until -the quarter was up, and then commencing over again. His occupation, -for a long period, as printer, with frequent traveling, is to be -remembered; also as carpenter. Quite a good deal of his life was passed -in boarding-houses and hotels. The three years in the Secession War of -course play a marked part. He never made any long sea-voyages, but for -years at one period (1846-60) went out in their boats, sometimes for a -week at a time, with the New York Bay pilots, among whom he was a great -favorite. In 1848-9 his location was in New Orleans, with occasional -sojourns in the other Gulf States besides Louisiana. From 1865 to ’73 -he lived in Washington. Born in 1819, his life through childhood and -as a young and middle-aged man--that is, up to 1862--was mainly spent, -with a few intervals of Western and Southern jaunts, on his native -Long Island, mostly in Brooklyn. At that date, aged forty-two, he went -down to the field of war in Virginia, and for the three subsequent -years he was actively engaged as volunteer attendant and nurse on the -battle-fields, to the Southern soldiers equally with the Northern, and -among the wounded in the army hospitals. He was prostrated by hospital -malaria and “inflammation of the veins” in 1864, but recovered. He -worked “on his own hook,” had indomitable strength, health, and -activity, was on the move night and day, not only till the official -close of the Secession struggle, but for a long time afterward, for -there was a vast legacy of suffering soldiers left when the contest was -over. He was permanently appointed under President Lincoln, in 1865, -to a respectable office in the Attorney-General’s department. (This -followed his removal from a temporary clerkship in the Indian Bureau -of the Interior Department. Secretary Harlan dismissed him from that -post specifically for being the author of “Leaves of Grass.”) He worked -on for some time in the Attorney-General’s office, and was promoted, -but the seeds of the hospital malaria seem never to have been fully -eradicated. He was at last struck down, quite suddenly, by a severe -paralytic shock (left hemiplegia), from which--after some weeks--he -was slowly recovering, when he lost by death his mother and a sister. -Soon followed two additional shocks of paralysis, though slighter than -the first. Summer had now commenced at Washington, and his doctor -imperatively ordered the sick man an entire change of scene--the -mountains or the sea-shore. Whitman accordingly left Washington, -destined for the New Jersey or Long Island coast, but at Philadelphia -found himself too ill to proceed any farther. He was taken over to -Camden, and lived there until his death in 1892. It is from this point -that I knew him intimately, and to my household, wife and family, he -was an honored and most cherished guest. - -I must forbear expanding on the poet’s career these years, only noting -that during them (1880) occurred the final completion of “Leaves of -Grass,” the object of his life. The house in which he lived is a -little old-fashioned frame structure, situated about gun-shot from the -Delaware River, on a clean, quiet, democratic street. This “shanty,” -as he called it, was purchased by the poet for $2000--two-thirds -being paid in cash. In it he occupied the second floor. I commenced -by likening his home to that of a ship, and the comparison might go -further. Though larger than any vessel’s cabin, Walt Whitman’s room, -at 328 Mickle Street, Camden, had all the rudeness, simplicity, and -free-and-easy character of the quarters of some old sailor. In the -good-sized, three-windowed apartment, 20 by 20 feet, or over, there -were a wood stove, a bare board floor of narrow planks, a comfortable -bed, divers big and little boxes, a good gas lamp, two big tables, a -few old uncushioned seats, and lots of pegs and hooks and shelves. Hung -or tacked on the walls were pictures, those of his father, mother and -sisters holding the places of honor, a portrait of a sweetheart of long -ago, a large print of Osceola the Seminole chief (given to Whitman many -years since by Catlin the artist), some rare old engravings by Strange, -and “Banditti Regaling,” by Mortimer. Heaps of books, manuscripts, -memoranda, scissorings, proof-sheets, pamphlets, newspapers, old and -new magazines, mysterious-looking literary bundles tied up with stout -strings, lay about the floor here and there. Off against a back wall -loomed a mighty trunk having double locks and bands of iron--such -a receptacle as comes over sea with the foreign emigrants, and you -in New York may have seen hoisted by powerful tackle from the hold -of some Hamburg ship. On the main table more books, some of them -evidently old-timers, a Bible, several Shakspeares,--a nook devoted -to translations of Homer and Æschylus and the other Greek poets and -tragedians, with Felton’s and Symonds’s books on Greece,--a collection -of the works of Fauriel and Ellis on mediæval poetry,--a well-thumbed -volume (his companion, off and on, for fifty years) of Walter Scott’s -“Border Minstrelsy,”--Tennyson, Ossian, Burns, Omar Khayyám, all -miscellaneously together. Whitman’s stalwart form itself luxuriated -in a curious, great cane-seat chair, with posts and rungs like ship’s -spars; altogether the most imposing, heavy-timbered, broad-armed and -broad-bottomed edifice of the kind possible. It was the Christmas gift -of the young son and daughter of Thomas Donaldson, of Philadelphia, and -was specially made for the poet. - -Let me round off with an opinion or two, the result of my many years’ -acquaintance. (If I slightly infringe the rule laid down at the -beginning, to attempt no literary criticism, I hope the reader will -excuse it.) Both Walt Whitman’s book and personal character need to -be studied a long time and in the mass, and are not to be gauged by -custom. I never knew a man who--for all he took an absorbing interest -in politics, literature, and what is called “the world”--seemed to be -so poised on himself alone. Dr. Drinkard, the Washington physician -who attended him in his paralysis, wrote to the Philadelphia doctor -into whose hands the case passed, saying among other things: “In his -bodily organism, and in his constitution, tastes and habits, Whitman -is the most _natural_ man I have ever met.” The primary foundation -of the poet’s character, at the same time, was certainly spiritual. -Helen Price, who knew him for fifteen years, pronounces him (in Dr. -Bucke’s book) the most essentially religious person she ever knew. On -this foundation was built up, layer by layer, the rich, diversified, -concrete experience of his life, from its earliest years. Then his -aim and ideal were not the technical literary ones. His strong -individuality, wilfulness, audacity, with his scorn of convention and -rote, unquestionably carried him far outside the regular metes and -bounds. No wonder there are some who refuse to consider his “Leaves” as -“literature.” It is perhaps only because he was brought up a printer, -and worked during his early years as newspaper and magazine writer, -that he put his expression in typographical form, and made a regular -book of it, with lines, leaves and binding. - -During his last years the poet, who was almost seventy-three years old -when he died, was in a state of half-paralysis. He got out of doors -regularly in fair weather, much enjoyed the Delaware River, was a great -frequenter of the Camden and Philadelphia Ferry, and was occasionally -seen sauntering along Chestnut or Market Streets in the latter city. He -had a curious sort of public sociability, talking with black and white, -high and low, male and female, old and young, of all grades. He gave a -word or two of friendly recognition, or a nod or smile, to each. Yet -he was by no means a marked talker or logician anywhere. I know an old -book-stand man who always spoke of him as Socrates. But in one respect -the likeness was entirely deficient. Whitman never argued, disputed, or -held or invited a cross-questioning bout with any human being. - -Through his paralysis, poverty, the embezzlement of book-agents -(1874-1876), the incredible slanders and misconstructions that followed -him through life, and the quite complete failure of his book from a -worldly and financial point of view, his splendid fund of personal -equanimity and good spirits remained inexhaustible, and was to the end -of his life amid bodily helplessness and a most meagre income, vigorous -and radiant as ever. - - GEORGE SELWYN. - - - - - JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER - - - - - JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER - - AT AMESBURY - - -Nearly all the likenesses of Mr. Whittier with which the present public -is familiar, represent an aged man, albeit with a fire flashing in the -eye and illuminating the countenance, like that fire which underlies -the snows of Hecla. But if, after having passed eighty, his face was -still so strong and radiant, in his youth it must have had a singular -beauty, and he kept until the last that eye of the Black Bachelder, -a glint of which was to be seen in the eye of Daniel Webster, and -possibly, tradition says, in that of Hawthorne and of Cushing. At any -rate, he showed a fair inheritance of the strength of will and purpose -of that strange hero of song and romance, his Bachelder ancestor. - -But other strains, as interesting as the old preacher’s, are to be -found in Whittier’s ancestry. One of his grandmothers was a Greenleaf, -whence his second name, and she is said to have been descended from a -Huguenot family of the name of Feuillevert, who translated their name -on reaching our shores (as the custom still is with many of our French -and Canadian settlers,) to Greenleaf. The poet himself says: - - The name the Gallic exile bore, - St. Malo, from thy ancient mart, - Became upon our western shore - Greenleaf, for Feuillevert. - -To the artistic imagination, that likes in everything a reason for its -being, there is something satisfactory in the thought of Huguenot blood -in Whittier’s veins; and one sees something more than coincidence in -the fact that on the Greenleaf coat-of-arms is both a warrior’s helmet -and a dove bearing an olive-leaf in its mouth. Among the Greenleafs -was one of Cromwell’s Lieutenants; and thus on two sides we find our -martial poet born of people who suffered for conscience’ sake, as he -himself did for full forty years of his manhood. The scion of such a -race--how could he pursue any other path than that which opened before -him to smite Armageddon; and yet the grandson of Thomas Whittier, -of Haverhill, who refused the protection of the blockhouse, and, -faithful to his tenets, had the red man to friend, in the days when the -war-whoop heralded massacre to right and left--the grandson of this -old Quaker, we say, must have felt some strange stirrings of spirit -against spirit, within him, as the man of peace contended with the man -of war, and the man of war blew out strains before which the towers of -slavery’s dark fortress fell. For Whittier was not only the trumpeter -of the Abolitionists, in those dark but splendid days of fighting -positive and tangible wrong: he was the very trumpet itself, and he -must have felt sometimes that the breath of the Lord blew through him. - -They are terrible days to look back upon, the period of that long, -fierce struggle beneath a cloud of obloquy and outrage; but to those -who lived in that cloud it was lined with light, and in all our sorrows -there was the joy of struggle and of brotherhood, of eloquence and -poetry and song, and the greater joy yet of knowing that all the forces -of the universe must be fighting on the side of right. - -The old homestead where Whittier was born, in 1807, is still standing, -and although built more than two hundred years ago, it is in good -condition. It is on a high table-land, surrounded by what in the late -fall and winter seems a dreary landscape. Carlyle’s Craigenputtock, the -Burns cottage, the Whittier homestead, all have a certain correlation, -each of them the home of genius and of comparative poverty, and each -so bleak and bare as to send the imagination of the dwellers out on -strong wings to lovelier scenes. Little boxes and paper-weights are -made from the boards of the garret-floor of the Whittier homestead, as -they are from the Burns belongings; and twigs of the overshadowing elm -are varnished and sold for pen-holders. But the whole house would have -to go to the lathe to meet the demand, if it were answered generally, -for it is the old farmhouse celebrated by “Snowbound,” our one national -idyll, the perfect poem of New England winter life. An allusion to that -strange and powerful character, Harriet Livermore, in this poem, has -brought down upon the poet’s head the wrath of one of her collateral -descendants, who has written a book to prove that nothing which was -said of that fantastic being in her lifetime was true, and that so -far from quarreling with Lady Hester Stanhope as to which of them was -to ride beside the Lord on his reëntry into Jerusalem, she never even -saw Lady Hester. But why any one, descendant or otherwise, should take -offence at the tender feeling and beauty of the poet’s mention of her -is as much a mystery as her life. - -It was in the fields about this homestead that fame first found our -poet. For there he bought, from the pack of a traveling peddler, the -first copy of Burns that he had ever seen, and that snatched him away -from hard realities into a land of music; and here the mail-man brought -him the copy of that paper containing his earliest poem, one whose -subject was the presence of the Deity in the still small whisper in -the soul; and here Garrison came with the words of praise and found him -in the furrow, and began that friendship which Death alone severed, as -the two fought shoulder to shoulder in the great fight of the century. - -Although he had been for some time contributing to the press, Mr. -Whittier was but twenty-three years old when he was thunderstruck by a -request to take the place of Mr. George D. Prentice, in editing _The -New England Weekly Review_ for a time; of which request he has said -that he could not have been more astonished had he been told he was -appointed Prime Minister to the Khan of Tartary. In 1835 and in 1836 -he was elected to the State Legislature of Massachusetts, and he was -engaged, during all this period, in active politics in a manner that -seems totally at variance with the possibilities of the singer of sweet -songs as we know him to-day. He declined reëlection to the Legislature, -upon being appointed Secretary to the American Anti-Slavery Society, -removing to Philadelphia, and remaining there two years, at the end of -which time the office of _The Pennsylvania Freeman_, which he edited, -was sacked and burned by a mob. - -Few men in the world had a closer acquaintance with this same -many-headed monster than our gentle poet, for he has been followed by -mobs, hustled by them, assailed by them, carrying himself with defiant -courage through them all; and it is a tremendous range of experience -that a man finds, as Mr. Whittier was able to do, between being -assaulted by a midnight mob and being chosen the Presidential Elector -for a sovereign State. - -After the suppression of his paper--this was at a time when the -Legislature of Georgia had offered a reward of five thousand dollars -for the arrest of the editor of _The Liberator_,--Mr. Whittier sold the -old Haverhill homestead and removed to Amesbury, a lovely town, the -descendant of Queen Guinevere’s Almbresbury, neighbor of Stonehenge -and old Sarum, which seems a proper spot for him as for a new Sir -Galahad; and from this time he began to send out those periodical -volumes of verses which have won him the heart of the world. Here his -lovely sister Elizabeth, herself a poet, with his mother, and his Aunt -Mercy--the three loved of all “Snowbound’s” lovers,--brightened the -home for years, one by one withdrawing from it at last for their long -home, and leaving him alone, but for the subsequent sweet companionship -of his nieces, who themselves went away in their turn for homes of -their own. - -The poet’s dwelling in Amesbury was exceedingly simple and exquisitely -neat, the exterior of a pale cream color, with many trees and shrubs -about it, while, within, one room opens into another till you reach -the study that should be haunted by the echoes of all sweet sounds, -for here have been written the most of those verses full of the fitful -music, - - Of winds that out of dreamland blew. - -Here, in the proper season, the flames of a cheerful fire dance upon -the brass andirons of the open hearth, in the centre of a wall lined -with books; water-colors by Harry Fenn and Lucy Larcom and Celia -Thaxter, together with interesting prints, hang on the other walls, -rivaled, it may be, by the window that looks down a sunny little -orchard, and by the glass-topped door through which you see the green -dome of Powow Hill. What worthies have been entertained in this -enticing place! Garrison, and Phillips, and Higginson, and Wasson, and -Emerson, and Fields, and Bayard Taylor, and Alice and Phœbe Cary, and -Gail Hamilton, and Anna Dickinson, are only a few of the names that -one first remembers, to say nothing of countless sweet souls, unknown -to any other roll of fame than heaven’s, who have found the atmosphere -there kindred to their own. - -The people of Amesbury, and of the adjoining villages and towns, felt -a peculiar ownership of their poet; there is scarcely a legend of -all the region round which he has not woven into his song, and the -neighborhood feel not only as if Whittier were their poet, but in some -way the guardian spirit, the genius of the place. Perhaps in his stern -and sweet life he has been so, even as much as in his song. “There is -no charge to Mr. Whittier,” once said a shopman of whom he had made a -small purchase; and there is no doubt that the example would have been -contagious if the independent spirit of the poet would have allowed it. - -The Indian summer days of the poet’s life were spent not all in the -places that knew him of old. The greater part of the winter was passed -in Boston; a share of the summer always went to the White Hills, of -which he was passionately fond, and the remainder of the time found -him in the house of his cousins at Oak Knoll, in Danvers, still in -his native county of Essex. This is a mansion, with its porches and -porticoes and surrounding lawns and groves, which seems meet for a -poet’s home; it stands in spacious and secluded grounds, shadowed by -mighty oaks, and with that woodland character which birds and squirrels -and rabbits, darting in the checkered sunshine, must always give. It is -the home of culture and refinement, too, and as full of beauty within -as without. Here many of the later poems were sent forth, and here -fledglings had the unwarrantable impertinence to intrude with their -callow manuscripts, and here those pests of prominence, the autograph -seekers, sent their requests by the thousands. But in the early fall -the poet stole quietly back to Amesbury, and there awaited Election -Day, a day on which he religiously believed that no man has a right to -avoid his duty, and of which he always thought as when he saw - - Along the street - The shadows meet - Of Destiny, whose hand conceals - The moulds of fate - That shape the State, - And make or mar the common weal. - -What a life he had to look back upon, as he sat with his fame about -him--what storms and what delights, what struggle and what victory! -With all the deep and wonderful humility of spirit that he bore before -God and man, yet it is doubtful if he could have found one day in it -that he would have changed, so far as his own acts were concerned. It -is certain that no one else could find it. - -In appearance, Mr. Whittier was to the last as upright in bearing as -ever; his eye was as black and burned with as keen a fire as when it -flashed over the Concord mob, and saw beauty everywhere as freshly as -when he cried out with the “Voices of Freedom” and sang the “Songs of -Labor”; and his smile was the same smile that won the worship of men, -and of women, too, for sixty years and over. Now it is with a sort of -tenderness that people speak and think of him whose walk in life ended -September 7, 1892. It seemed impossible to think that such vitality and -power and spirit could ever cease. And indeed, it has not ceased, for -it has been transferred into loftier regions, where his earthly songs -are set to the music of the morning-stars as they sing together. - - HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD. - - - - - MRS. MARGARET DELAND - - - - - MRS. MARGARET DELAND - - MT. VERNON STREET, BOSTON, AND KENNEBUNKPORT, MAINE - - -Very few houses suggest in a more marked degree the tastes of those who -occupy them, than the one in which Margaret Deland may be found during -the winter months, and until the chilly New England spring deigns to -set forth a tempting array of blossoms. At this signal, followed by -a general exodus in favor of suburban residences, Mrs. Deland--being -a Bostonian only by adoption, and therefore to be pardoned for -seeking recreation at a greater distance from home--closes the town -house, leaving it guarded by flowers, to re-establish herself and her -household in an attractive cottage at Kennebunkport, Maine, where her -summers are habitually passed. - -If we are to go in search of the more representative of the two -dwellings, we must turn our steps in the direction of Beacon Hill, -for the Delands yielded a number of years ago to the indefinable -charm of this time-honored quarter of the town, and have come to be -considered--like Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Mrs. Henry Whitman, and -others--as permanent members of the little colony in possession. - -On turning into Mt. Vernon Street at the foot of the hill, a view that -is essentially picturesque opens up, and its separate features--the -steep road, large elm-trees, old-fashioned residences, and narrow -sidewalks--have hardly had time to assert themselves, when the -objective point of one’s walk comes in sight. No. 76 is the second of -two houses on Mt. Vernon Street that have in turn afforded Mr. Deland -an excuse to indulge his predilection for reconstruction, the present -habitation being practically a larger edition of one lower down the -street--in which “John Ward, Preacher,” was written. - -A glance at the façade proves the felicity of a friend’s description, -“It is all windows and flowers.” The chronicler of “Old Garden” fancies -and none other is to be associated with the masses of jonquils, -hyacinths, and pansies, whose notes of color define the unusual width -of the main windows, and are equally in evidence against a background -of soft white muslin, used as drapery for the curious little bay -window on the second story. A few steps lead from the narrow sidewalk -to the front door, and a moment later the visitor finds himself in a -drawing-room of ample dimensions, reached by way of a tiny vestibule, -and covering every inch of space on the north or Mt. Vernon Street -side of the house. The maid servant in attendance disappears in -search of her mistress, passing up the curved white staircase with -crimson carpeting, placed to the left, and treated with due regard for -decorative effect. A happy blending of comfort and luxury immediately -makes itself felt, while a huge fire-place with a cord log blazing on -its hearth easily dominates all other attractions, and finds its way to -the heart of many an unacclimated stranger. - -Mrs. Deland lives all over her house, the different rooms on the first -and second floors being in constant use, and equally familiar to her -friends. If she has installed herself in the sunny library overhead, or -in the salon opening off of it, you will as likely as not be summoned -to join her in one or the other of these pleasant rooms, and will find -the same simple yet luxurious appointments--the cheery open fires, the -profusion of flowers, the tasteful and harmonious decorations--evenly -distributed throughout the entire house. Books are stored away in every -conceivable receptacle, Mr. Deland’s taste in this matter, as indeed in -most others, being as fully represented as that of his wife. One even -runs across a set of book-shelves fitted into the wall at the head of -the staircase, where the old-fashioned niche once held its place. But -although they are found to exist in such quantities, neither books nor -periodicals are allowed to become an annoyance by being left about -to crowd out other things and to collect dust. The exquisite neatness -and order that prevail speak volumes for the refinement and managerial -capacity of the mistress of the house. An authoress is supposedly the -least practical of persons; and yet in this one instance an exception -must be noted, for there are countless signs that the hand at the helm -is both experienced and sure. - -Mrs. Deland is of Scottish ancestry on her father’s side of the family, -and, as a lineal descendant of John of Gaunt, may be said to have -sprung from the house of Lancaster. There is about her something of the -freedom and indomitable strength of the Highlands--a look in the clear -blue eye, a warmth of coloring, a cut of features, and, above all, -a certain unruly assertiveness of stray locks of hair--that awakens -memories of the heather and of the wind upon the hills, coming heavily -laden with the odor of peat and fresh from its contact with some -neighboring loch. And, again, there are moments when other and quite -different pictures suggest themselves, as the outcome of a still more -subtle relation to the fragrant treasures of her garden--the delicate -mignonette, the open-hearted June rose--with just a touch of passion -in its veins to make it kin with all the world--and the sensitive -convolvulus, lifting its face heavenward to greet the light, but -robbed of aspirations when the shadows settle into gloom. - -The strong love of flowers finds its expression in a number of ways, -and it seems extraordinary that a success which is seldom achieved by -those who live in town should crown the efforts of one who apparently -has but to touch a plant to make it live. A little fig-tree--the most -notable of her triumphs, for it, too, was planted and raised within -doors--lifts its branches and bears fruit as the central attraction -of a group of tropical plants that flourish near the casement of -the dining-room window. An India-rubber plant that is fast assuming -proportions which threaten its banishment, spreads its glossy leaves -in the middle of the library, and, overladen as it is, one cannot fail -to observe that the broad ledge of the window in the rear was arranged -with a special view to the well-being of the various blooms seen -thereon, and thus given the full benefit of the sunshine. - -At the close of the winter Mrs. Deland has a sale of flowers in aid -of some good cause, and also for the purpose of demonstrating that -the cultivation of such plants as are raised under her roof, with no -other care than that given from out of her own busy life, might be made -to serve many a gentlewoman of reduced circumstances as a means of -support. During the weeks that precede the sale, the house is ablaze -with daffodils, and one leaves the snow and ice without, to enter on a -scene more suggestive of Florida than of Massachusetts. - -A wide diversity of interests draws very different kinds of people -under this roof, for the sympathies of those who live under it are of -extensive range, and their hospitality is without limit. There are -the purely social functions, placing in touch representative members -of the world of fashion and those whose gifts or strong individuality -have lifted them out of the more conventional lines of thought and -action. Mr. Deland, as an authority on football and the inventor of -strategic moves which have materially strengthened Harvard’s game, also -gathers about him serious amateurs in outdoor sports, and is ever ready -to prolong the pleasures of the post-prandial cigar by enthusiastic -discussion of moot points. - -Meetings in the interests of charitable organizations, civic matters, -and all stirring questions of the day, make their demands on the time -of a hostess whose tact and responsiveness are unfailing. When some -interest of an exclusively feminine nature remains to be dealt with, or -that bugbear of the male mind, a ladies’ luncheon-party is in order, -the genial host escapes to some such favorite haunt as the St. Botolph -or the Tavern Club, leaving an almost startling substitute in the -shape of a life-size portrait by the well-known Boston artist, Miss -S. G. Putnam, to smile a welcome in his stead. The portrait and the -little bay-window first seen from the outside are the most conspicuous -features of the upper salon. It is from this window that a view of the -sunset and of the distant river may be enjoyed; and in looking up and -down the street one cannot fail to observe the fine old mansions on the -opposite side of the way, set back a considerable distance from the -street, and with enough ground round about them to include in their -surroundings old-fashioned grass-plots and flowering shrubs belonging -to the past century. In presiding at her table Mrs. Deland does the -honors with cordial interest in those grouped about her, and while -taking full part in the conversation, always contrives to draw out -others, rather than to permit her individual views to be drawn upon. - -As one of the first to introduce the use of the chafing-dish, her -experiments in this direction must be quoted as unique, not only -because of their most excellent results, but in view of the fact -that everything that has to be done is so daintily and gracefully -accomplished. It is simply astonishing how she continues to hold her -place in the general conversation, while quietly mixing and adding -the ingredients out of which some particularly delicious _plat_ is -to evolve. Everything has been measured out in advance and stands -in readiness. This bit of Venetian glass, whose soft colors are -intensified by the sunlight playing about it, holds just the proper -quantity of cream; that small jug--an infinitesimal specimen of -yellow pottery--contains but a spoonful of some dark liquid, as to -whose mission the uninitiated may not guess. It is the very poetry of -cooking, and it was hardly in the nature of a surprise when a guest -whose travels had extended through the East gravely assured Mrs. -Deland, on partaking of a preparation which had served as the _pièce -de resistance_ of the occasion, that its name as translated from the -Persian could only be explained by the significant phrase,--“The Sultan -faints with delight”! - -As an author Mrs. Deland fully recognizes the importance of -systematizing her work, therefore she has long made it a custom to deny -herself to every one during the morning hours in order to devote them -exclusively to writing. The library, whose attraction has already been -referred to, makes an ideal workshop, and as such deserves to rank as -far and away the most interesting room in the house. It is usually -flooded with sunshine, and is always light, the open fire contributing -further brightness, and bringing into requisition a quaint pair of -andirons, shaped in the form of two revolutionary soldiers standing on -guard. - -The window, framing a sheet of glass that might well prove problematic -to a less capable housekeeper, gives on the rear of several Chestnut -Street houses whose old roofs and old chimneys reach nearly to its -level and are directly outside. A faint twittering tells of the -presence of those _gamins_ among birds, the sparrows, and a closer -search for the little fellows reveals their bright eyes and ruffled -feathers, as seen emerging from the crevices into which they have -contrived to squeeze themselves in their search for shelter and warmth. - -There is space beyond, with only the shifting clouds to gaze upon, -and the stillness and repose of the spot speak well for the writer’s -chances in regard to the maintenance of moods and consecutive thought. -The ill-starred fortunes of “Philip and His Wife” were followed from -amid these same peaceful surroundings, and the commodious desk near the -window doubtless held manuscript sheets of that tale, as well as of -others more recently written. A cast of Mr. Deland’s hand is suspended -from one side of the desk, and his share in the possession of the room -is indicated by a central writing-table with telephone attachment. If -he chances to look up while transacting such business as invades the -home, he will meet with the gentle face of one of Lucca della Robia’s -angels, or his eyes may wander from this relief, and the mantelpiece -against which it is placed, to a large photograph of Boston, and a -number of well-selected pictures covering the walls. - -Mrs. Deland’s first productions were in verse, and an idea as to their -spontaneity may be gathered from the fact that several of the poems -which appeared under the title of “In An Old Garden” were originally -jotted down upon the leaves of a market-book, to be left in the hands -of a friend whose sympathy and belief awakened the first sense of -power, and to whom the volume was dedicated. One of these prosaic bits -of ruled paper is still in existence. It bears the penciled words of -“The Clover,” and, by way of illustration, a graceful spray of the -flower, suggestively traced over all, as if thrown upon the page. - -When the Delands first went to Kennebunkport, it was a little fishing -village of the most primitive kind, and life there, in the summer time, -was refreshingly simple and unconstrained. A cottage was selected -within a stone’s throw of the river, and Mr. Deland’s yacht, with -its picturesque Venetian-red sails, became a feature of the scene. -A disused barn, in a nook among the hills, was found to possess a -charming outlook, and was immediately turned into a study. In this -retreat “Sidney” was written. The glory of the garden proved a thing -to be remembered, and its mistress was never happier than when delving -among her treasures. Kennebunkport has grown into a popular summer -resort, with its hordes of transient visitors, its countless hotels -and boarding-houses; but the Delands pass their days in much the -same fashion as when the pleasures of the river and the charm of the -surrounding country seemed to belong to them alone. - -That our authoress still counts her garden the most fascinating spot -on earth, may be gathered from her own words:--“I am rather fond of -rising at five o’clock in the morning, and of going out to weed when -every blade of grass and every leaf is beaded with dew; and if the tide -is high, and the sun comes shining over the hills on the wide blue -river--weeding is an enchanting occupation.” - - LUCIA PURDY. - - [Illustration] - - - - - F. MARION CRAWFORD - - - - - F. MARION CRAWFORD - - AT SORRENTO - - -To most people who have travelled in the south of Italy the name of -Sorrento recalls one of the loveliest places in the world, which has -been so often and so well described that it forms part of the mental -picture-gallery even of those who have never been there. We all seem -to know the cheerful little town, perched high above the glorious bay, -and crowded with tourists during more than half the year. On any bright -morning, especially in early spring, the tiny shops in the principal -street fairly swarm with strangers, to whom polite and polyglot dealers -sell ornaments of tortoise-shell and lava, silk sashes which will look -like impressionist rainbows under sober English skies, and endless -boxes and book-shelves of inlaid woods, destined to fall to pieces -under the fiery breath of the American furnace. In contrast to these -frivolous travellers one may also see the conscientious Germans, whose -long-saved pence are thriftily expended, seeking out every possible -and impossible haunt of Tasso’s ghost, with the aid of Baedeker, the -apostle of modern travel. - -Comparatively few of this constantly changing company ever think of -taking the side street which runs between the high-road to Castellamare -and the sea, and it is possible to spend some time at Sorrento without -having seen the home of Marion Crawford at all. Follow this side -street, called the “rota,” because it curves like the rim of a wheel, -and you will find yourself presently going back toward Naples, shut in -on either hand by the high walls of villas and gardens, over which the -orange and lemon and olive trees look down into the dusty lane. Just -across the boundary line between Sorrento and the village of Sant’ -Agnello, named after a martial abbot who is said to have fought the -Turks, as many a churchman did in his time, there stands a sedate old -inn, the Cocumella, or Little Gourd, which is a complete contrast to -the two great hotels in the larger town. It was once the property of -the Jesuits, and the King Ferdinand of Naples who was Nelson’s friend, -nobly generous with the belongings of others, after the manner of -kings, gave it, with the adjoining church, to the forefather of its -present owner. The house has been an inn ever since, but the title to -the church has never been settled, and the building is kept in repair -by the landlord as a sort of courtesy to Heaven. To this old-fashioned -inn many Italians and quiet English families come for the season, and -it was in a cave or grotto at the foot of its garden, which slopes -toward the cliff, whence there is a steep descent through the rocks to -the sea, that Mr. Crawford wrote “To Leeward” and “Saracinesca,” before -he married and bought his present house. - -Beyond the Cocumella lies the parish of Sant’ Agnello, a village quite -independent of its more fashionable neighbor, with a post-office and a -few little shops of its own. Keeping to the lane, at about an English -mile from Sorrento, a quaint old Capuchin monastery is reached on -the left, with a small church and a rambling almshouse just showing -above a high white-washed wall, which runs on to a gateway of gray -stone over which ivy hangs in masses, while on each side the name -of the place, “Villa Crawford,” is carved in plain block letters. -The heavy dark-green doors of the gate stand hospitably open, and -show the straight, narrow drive, bordered with roses, geraniums, and -jasmine, and leading down to a square garden-court, not large but full -of flowers and crooked old olive trees, over which wistaria has been -trained from one to the other, so that in spring they are a mass of -delicate bloom and fragrance. The house is very simple, built of rough -stone partly stuccoed, as usual in that part of Italy, and irregular in -shape because it has been added to from time to time. When Mr. Crawford -took it for a season, soon after his marriage to a daughter of General -Berdan, it was in such a very tumble-down condition that when the -fierce winter gales swept over snow-clad Vesuvius from the northeast, -the teeth of every lock chattered and the carpets rose in billows -along the tiled floors. But the site is one of the most beautiful on -the whole bay, for the house stands on the edge of a cliff which falls -abruptly nearly two hundred feet to the water, and since Mr. Crawford -bought it he has strengthened it with a solid tower which can be seen -for some distance out at sea. - -The front door opens directly upon a simple hall where there are -plants in tubs, and a tall old monastery clock stands near the door -leading to the stone staircase. The long drawing-room opens upon a -tiled terrace, and is almost always full of sunshine, the scent of -flowers, and the voices of children. It cannot be said to be furnished -in the modern style, but it contains many objects which could only -have been collected by people having both taste and opportunity. When -in Constantinople, many years ago, Mr. Crawford was so fortunate as to -find an unusually large quantity of the beautiful Rhodes embroidery -formerly worked by the women of the Greek islands for the Knights -of Malta, of which none has been made for over a hundred years. The -pattern always consists of Maltese crosses, in every possible variety -of design, embroidered in dark-red silk on a coarse linen ground which -is entirely covered. Draped here and there the effect is exceedingly -rich and soft, as well as striking, and some fine old Persian armor -over the doors tells of a visit which the author and his wife made to -the Caucasus during one of his rare holidays. A magnificent portrait of -Mrs. Crawford by Lenbach, a gift from the artist to her husband, was -painted during a winter spent at Munich; and on the opposite wall hangs -a brilliant water-color drawing of a Moorish warrior, by Villegas, -presented by him to Mrs. Crawford after a visit to his studio in Rome. -On a table placed against the back of an upright piano, among a number -of more or less curious and valuable objects, lies the large gold medal -of the Prix Monbinne, the only prize ever given by the French Academy -to foreign men-of-letters, which was awarded to Mr. Crawford for the -French editions of “Zoroaster” and “Marzio’s Crucifix.” - -A door leads from one end of the drawing-room into the library, a high -square room completely lined with old carved bookcases of black walnut, -built more than two hundred years ago for Cardinal Altieri before he -became Pope Clement the Tenth, and of which the wanderings, down to -their final sale, would be an interesting bit of Roman social history. -The library is not a workroom, but the place where the author’s books -are kept in careful order, those he needs at any time being carried -up to his study and brought down again when no longer wanted. There -are about five thousand volumes, very largely books of reference and -classics, partly collected by the author himself, and in part inherited -from his uncle, the late Samuel Ward, and his father-in-law, General -Berdan. The room is so full that one large bookcase has been placed -in the middle, so that both sides of it are used. Besides the books -the library contains only a writing-table, three or four chairs, and a -bronze bust of Mr. Ward. - -But it is hard to think of these rooms without their inmates--the -father, who is at his best, as he certainly is at his happiest, in his -own house, the beautiful and gracious mother, and the four strikingly -handsome children, with their healthy simplicity and unconsciousness -which speak of that ideal home life which is the author’s highest -fortune. The eldest child is a girl of twelve, “as fair as wheat,” -with thoughtful eyes; next comes a boy two years younger, much darker -in coloring, and with a face already full of expression; and last a -pair of twins of eight, a boy and a girl--she with a nimbus of curly -golden hair that makes her look like a saint by Fra Angelico, and he -a singularly grave and sturdy little fellow, whose present energies -are bent on being a sailor-man--a disposition which he gains fairly, -for Mr. Crawford’s friends know that if he might have consulted only -the natural bent of his mind, he would have followed the sea as his -profession. From early boyhood he has passed the happiest hours of his -leisure on board a boat, and he is as proficient in the management of -the picturesque but dangerous felluca as any native skipper along the -coast. - -When he bought an old New York pilot-boat, in 1896, he was admitted -to the examination of the Association of American Ship-masters -in consideration of his long experience, and he holds a proper -ship-master’s certificate authorizing him to navigate sailing-vessels -on the high seas. He proved his ability by navigating his little -schooner across the Atlantic with entire success, and without the -slightest assistance from the mate he took with him. This episode in -a life which has had more variety than falls to the lot of most men -shows clearly the predominant trait of Marion Crawford’s character, -which is determination to follow out anything he undertakes until he -knows how it should be done, even if he has not the time to work at it -much afterward. Readers of “Casa Braccio” may have noticed that the old -cobbler who is Paul Griggs’s friend is described with touches which -show acquaintance with his trade, the fact being that while the author -was preparing for college in the English village which he describes -later in “A Tale of a Lonely Parish,” he made a pair of shoes “to see -how it was done,” as he also joined the local bell-ringers to become -familiar with the somewhat complicated system of peals and chimes. Mere -curiosity is like the clutch of a child’s hand, which usually means -nothing, and may break what it seizes, but the insatiable thirst for -knowledge of all kinds is entirely different, and has always formed -part of the true artistic temperament. - -The description of silver chiselling in “Marzio’s Crucifix” is the -result of actual experience, for Mr. Crawford once studied this branch -of art, and produced several objects of considerable promise. In -rebuilding and adding to his house he has never employed an architect, -for he is a good practical builder and stone-mason, as well as a -creditable mathematician, and his foreman in all such work is a clever -laborer who can neither read nor write. Like many left-handed men, he -is skilful in the use of tools, and his mechanical capacity was tested -recently when, having taken out a complete system of American plumbing, -including a kitchen boiler, he could find no workmen who understood -such appliances, and so put them all in himself, with the help of two -or three plumbers whose knowledge did not extend beyond soldering -a joint. When the job was done everything worked perfectly, to his -justifiable satisfaction. As he is a very fair classical scholar and -an excellent linguist, he could easily support himself as a tutor if -it were necessary, or he might even attain to the awful dignity of a -high-class courier. - -His study or workroom at Villa Crawford is on the top of the house, -by the tower, and opens upon a flat roof, after the Italian fashion. -There are windows on three sides, as it is often important to be able -to shut out the sun without losing too much light; the walls are simply -white-washed, and the floor is of green and white tiles. In the middle -there is a very large table, with a shelf at the back on which stand -in a row a number of engravings and etchings, most of which were given -him by his wife, prominent among them being “The Knight, Death, and the -Devil,” by Dürer, mentioned in the beginning of “A Rose of Yesterday.” -A small revolving bookcase full of books of reference has its place -close to his hand, and his writing chair is of the most ordinary -American pattern. The large plain brick fireplace projects into the -room, and on the broad mantel-shelf stands a replica of his father -Thomas Crawford’s Peri, a winged figure, fully draped, gazing sadly -toward the forfeited paradise. On one wall hangs an engraving by Van -Dalen after a portrait of Giorgione by Titian, of which the original -has been destroyed, and on another a large photograph of Giorgione’s -Knight of Malta, and small ones of his pilot-schooner as she looked -when he crossed the ocean in her, and as she appears now, transformed -into the yacht Alda, and refitted so that his wife and children may -accompany him on the cruises which form his usual vacations. The -effect of the room as a whole is severe and simple, but the view from -its windows is most beautiful and varied. To the south lie olive-clad -hills, with white houses dotted here and there among orange-groves, and -with the craggy mass of Monte Sant’ Angelo, rising higher than Vesuvius -itself, for a background; westward one looks over Sant’ Agnello and the -neighboring townships, and to the northeast, across the shining bay, -the curved white line of Naples stretches far along the shore, while -Vesuvius broods fatefully over the villages at its feet. - -Mr. Crawford is an early riser, being usually at his writing-table -between six and seven o’clock. If it is winter he lights his own fire, -and in any season begins the day, like most people who have lived much -in southern countries, with a small cup of black coffee and a pipe. -About nine o’clock he goes down-stairs to spend an hour with his wife -and children, and then returns to his study and works uninterruptedly -until luncheon, which in summer is an early dinner. In warm weather the -household goes to sleep immediately after this meal, to re-assemble -toward five o’clock; but the author often works straight through this -time, always, however, giving the late afternoon and evening to his -family. The common impression that the south of Italy is unbearably hot -in summer is due to the fact that the guide-books in general use are -written by Germans or Englishmen, whose blood boils at what seems to -us a very tolerable temperature. Inland cities like Milan and Florence -often suffer from oppressive heat, but records show that neither at -Naples nor at Palermo does the thermometer mark so high as in New York, -and at Sorrento it rarely goes above 84°. On Sundays, after early -church, parents and children go off in a boat to some one of the many -lovely spots which are to be found among the rocks along the shore, -taking with them fire-wood, a kettle, and all that is necessary for a -“macaronata,” or macaroni picnic. The sailors do the cooking, while -the children look on or go in swimming with their father, and when the -simple feast is over the rest of the afternoon is spent in sailing over -the bay, perhaps as far as Capri if the breeze holds. - -While every one acknowledges Marion Crawford’s talent as a -story-teller, he is sometimes reproached with inventing impossible -situations, or at least straining probability, which is only another -illustration of the old saying about fact and fiction, for in each of -the cases usually referred to he has set down what actually happened. -The triple tragedy in “Greifenstein” was a terrible fact in a noble -German family before the middle of the present century, and the son -of the house, the last of his race, entered the Church and died a -Cardinal. In “Casa Braccio,” the elopement of the nun and the burning -of the substituted body took place in South America exactly as -described, and the story was told to the author by a person who had -met the real Gloria. The incident of Don Teodoro in “Taquisara,” who, -although not ordained, acted as a priest for many years, occurred in -the neighborhood of Rome, and there have been two well-known cases in -which priests kept the secret of the confessional as Don Ippolito does -in “Corleone,” but with the difference that they were both convicted -of crimes which they had not committed, one being sent to the mines of -Siberia, the other to a French penal colony. - -The impression, quite generally entertained, that Mr. Crawford throws -off one book after another as fast as he can write them down, is based -upon a misapprehension of his method of working. For months, or even -for several years, a subject is constantly in his mind, and he spares -no study to improve his rendering of it. Travellers in Arabia, for -instance, have commended the “local color” of his “Khaled,” which, -however, is quite as much due to patient reading as to imagination, -for he has never been there. The actual writing of his stories is done -quickly, partly because few authors have had such large experience of -all the mechanical work connected with literature. From early manhood -he has been entirely dependent on his own resources, and during his -two years’ editorship of an Indian newspaper he practically wrote it -all every day, correcting the proof into the bargain. After his return -to America, and before writing “Mr. Isaacs,” he supported himself by -any literary work that he could get, during which time, by the way, he -was a frequent contributor to _The Critic_. The man so often called “a -born story-teller” is also a careful student, especially reverent of -the precious inheritance of our language, and some of his works are -now used as class-books for the study of modern English literature -throughout this country, a fact which may easily escape the knowledge -of the novel-reading public which owes him so much pleasure. - -Mr. Crawford has made a success at play-writing as well as at novel -writing. His “In the Palace of the King,” which has been played so -successfully by Miss Viola Allen, was a play before he turned it into -a novel, and he has recently written a drama founded on a new version -of the story of Francesca and Paola, which Madame Sarah Bernhardt has -produced with great success. - - WILLIAM BOND. - - [Illustration] - - - - - PAUL LEICESTER FORD - - - - - PAUL LEICESTER FORD - - THE MAN OF AFFAIRS AND THE MAN OF LETTERS - - -Long-suffering prominence, among its numerous woes, has at times to -subject itself to snap-shot portraiture; but occasionally a friendly -and amateurish zeal, seeking honest results, brings the person of -note to the advantage of a long exposure, and then perchance educes -finenesses and personalities neglected by the swifter method. I should -like, if I may, to use the slower and truer means in a sketch of Mr. -Paul Leicester Ford, who has of late, by reason of an unquestioned -reputation, been compelled to stand from behind the vanguard of his -books and show himself as a notability. In contrast therefore to -various pen views which have presented Mr. Ford as all sorts and -conditions of a man, it ought to be possible for a friendly candor -to delineate his life and purposes without passing just limitations. -Paraphrasing his own playfully bold title, I seek to portray “The True -Mr. Ford,” entertaining the while that proportionate sense of demerit -which I am sure restrained him as he limned the outlines of Washington. - -The accrediting of unusual ability to heredity and environment alone -fails to satisfy; for what we most wish to understand is the actual -and not the probable resultant. Nevertheless it will never do to -omit from the reckoning Mr. Ford’s innate tendencies and the slowly -formed impulses made upon him and upon his equally remarkable brother, -Worthington Chauncey Ford, by their father’s superb library, of which -in a manner, but in a different degree, each is the incarnation. -Puritan stock, absolutely pure, except where there is a crossing of the -Huguenot on the paternal side--there is no choicer graft than that--a -temperament stimulated by the nervous excitations of the cosmopolitan -life of New York, and a scholarship sound yet unacademic and not held -by the leash of college traditions--these, as I see them, are the -factors, any of which taken from him would have made Mr. Ford quite -other than he is. Yet the aggregate of such components most assuredly -does not constitute his genius; for genius as distinguished from marked -ability he undoubtedly possesses. It has before now been told that on -his mother’s side he is the grandson of Professor Fowler of Amherst, -the great-grandson of Noah Webster, and the grandson four times removed -of President Charles Chauncey of Harvard College, and of Governor -Bradford; and from this last worthy ancestor he comes honestly by his -fondness for a manuscript. This is good blood to run through one’s -veins, even in a remote generation. There is an added vigor from his -mother, who, early expanded under favoring influences, had the native -mental strength and moral sureness of a cultivated New England woman. -His father, the late Gordon L. Ford, though known and honored as a -successful lawyer and man of affairs, was, to those who had the closer -knowledge of him, an idealist of the type which does not readily pursue -other than the highest ends, and which cannot throw open the reserves -of its nature. - -There is then in his make-up a curious balance of conservative -tendencies and a due share of remonstrance and even of headlong -radicalism. To a superb mental equipment is to be added a physical -constitution strong enough to have pulled him through an infancy and -childhood full of peril and no doubt of suffering, and to have landed -him in manhood’s estate with a vivacious and courageous disposition, -a master of his fate. He is also endowed with an almost superhuman -capacity for work. It may be that, conscious of hidden frailties of -tenure, the impulse is within him to burn his candle of life fiercely; -but I am disposed the rather to think that in his case this use of -energy is mainly a question of superior “horse power”--he is able to -work more than most of us, and therefore he does. But great capacity -does not always so express itself; and it would be unjust, unless -one chose to regard Mr. Ford as precocious in youth and phenomenal at -all times, not to recognize that the fate which distributes gifts to -mortals gave him Opportunity. Free, if he so wished, to follow his own -devices and to take the joys of life without undue exertion, he was -wise enough, at an age when most youth sows an unprofitable crop on -stony ground, to plant in the fertile furrows which a farseeing father -had sedulously made ready for him. As for education and the discipline -of school life, so wholesome for the most of us, there was for him -literally none of it. His nursery, his primary school, and his college -all may be found within the four walls of his father’s library. The -books held within the quiet residence in Clark Street, Brooklyn, must -now be nearer 100,000 than 50,000 in number. They fill all parts of -the large house fashioned in the manner of fifty years ago, but their -headquarters are in the library proper, a room at the rear, over fifty -feet square, and reached from the main floor by a short flight of -steps. This room is well but not glaringly lighted by a lantern at the -top, while the sides, with the exception of a few small windows of no -great utility owing to the tallness of surrounding buildings, are fully -taken up with books to the height of eight feet. The floor is covered -in part by large rugs; the walls and ceilings are of serious tint; a -fireplace is opposite the entrance; while sofas of most dissimilar -pattern and meant seemingly to hold any burden but a human one, are -placed “disposedly” about; chairs, easy but not seductive, are in -plenty, but like the sofas give notice that here is a government not of -men but of books--here there is no library built for the lust of the -flesh and pride of the eye, but for books and for those who use them. I -cannot suppose that those smitten of bibliophily would thrill over the -Ford library, since it exists for the practical and virile, although it -is, in parts, exceedingly choice. Roughly classified to suit the easy -memories of the owners, it presents an appearance urbane and unprecise -rather than military and commanding. At irregular intervals loom huge -masses of books, pamphlets, papers, proof-sheets, and engravings in -cataclysmic disorder and apparently suspended in mid-air like the -coffin of the False Prophet, but in fact resting on tables well hidden -by the superincumbent piles. In this room the father slowly accumulated -this priceless treasure mostly illustrative of American history and -its adjuncts, thereby gratifying his own accurate tastes and hoping, -as we may suppose, that his children would ultimately profit by -his foresight. Nor was he disappointed; for the two brothers, Paul -and Worthington, drew their milk, historically speaking, from this -exhaustless fount, and it is thus impossible to disconnect the labors -and successes of these two unusual men from their association with -this library. Not in books alone, but in many choice autograph letters, -rare portraits and plates, and much unpublished material consists the -value of the collection. - -One who did not know Mr. Ford, on entering the room and beholding for -the first time the Sierras of books, fronted by foot-hills and drumlins -of unfinished work, sale catalogues, letters, and other detritus, might -well suppose him to be the most careless of mortals. This would be to -misjudge; for though no one else could fathom his methods, Mr. Ford -turns readily to what he wants, and given the right haystack, finds his -needle with astonishing ease. Like many another man of ability, he does -not enslave himself to organization, but uses method only in proportion -to direct needs. - -The secret of his astonishing capacity for work and production is not -far to seek. He is by nature and by predilection a man of affairs and -of business. The accident of life has directed his energies toward -books and letters. But he is not a literary man in the sense that -he is to be identified with a class, for in the best sense he is -_déclassé_. So far as there may be genius burning within him, it must -express itself during moments of inspiration; but the between-times are -not spent in dreams or vain imaginings, but in an almost relentless -absorption in some historical or editorial task, requiring fidelity and -energy rather than fitful moods. - -I do not now discern what at one time I feared that I -might--carelessness, or an effect of haste, in the large mass of -results to which this author has already put his name. On the contrary -it seems to me that more and more he tends toward painstaking care, -and there is good reason to predict that his best and possibly most -brilliant work is yet to come. Regarding one work, since published, -he has told me that, having already pushed a long way toward the end -and finding that the affair went slowly, of a sudden it was borne in -upon him that he was on the wrong track. In a moment he swept 30,000 -words of manuscript into his basket and started anew and with a good -heart. A great organizing capacity, a power of maintained effort, and a -willingness to take unstinted trouble, render the large volume of his -achievements as acceptable as the small bulk of another’s work. Faults -I think Mr. Ford has had, and still has, but it would be proper even -for the nicest criticism to discover a sure advance in the quality of -his style. Personally I have never been able to explain satisfactorily -the success of his most popular book, “The Honorable Peter Stirling.” -It is almost without a “literary” quip or term or phrase; the politics -present a stiff dose to novel readers, a class too satiated with an -unvarying diet not to crave spicier viands than those served to them -by the love motive of Mr. Ford’s story. Why then has this proved to be -one of the three stories of the past two years and more? I do not know, -unless it be that Mr. Ford, who is no egotist and not exclusive in his -sympathies, reflects in this book a genuine if unsentimental faith -in human nature of every degree. To such a faith humanity is always -responsive. He did not come crying in the wilderness with acrimony and -fanaticism, but gave the prototype of a gentleman of the heart and -not of long ancestry--a pure man in all things, even in metropolitan -politics, who stamped on evil, not shrank from it. There was a cry -for a politician who could be something to the “boys” besides a prig, -and Mr. Ford, _haud inexpertus_, produced him. It was bread and not a -stone, and the democracy, rampant yet not unclean, heard him gladly. - -I have no purpose here to rehearse the merits of Mr. Ford’s various -writings. Current criticism certainly has him in its eye as a -conspicuous figure, and if he meets opposition he is not likely to -suffer neglect. Meanwhile another source of his success and of his -popularity seems to me to lie in his perfect intellectual and moral -normality. Great as is the volume of his work, it is sound throughout. -He strikes no shrill or wayward note; the social order is always -considered. He deals with the sound fruit of human life, and assumes -that good nature, honest love, money-making, clean and enjoyable -existence are not only possibilities but everyday realities. The -success of “The Story of an Untold Love” shows how ready people are for -an observance of all the commandments rather than for a breach of one. -It is with novels as with plays--cleanliness “goes.” - -Mr. Ford’s large abilities, aided by fortunate inheritance, have been -used not for the ends of mere scholarship and to humor preciosity and -a love of what is fantastic and occasional, but to recognize common -wants and aspirations; yet at the same time he evinces an idealism -tempered by no little terrestrial wisdom and experience. Imagination -plays a larger part in his work--and I am here speaking of his creative -work--than appears at first sight. In “Peter Stirling” he has managed -to give to an immense metropolitan life an effect of homogeneity and -interrelation. The large and evanescent effects of a great city are -tempting themes, but those who try to catch and hold the impression for -the uses of a novel seldom succeed in giving more than fine details. -Our _genre_ painters of fiction have been admirable in this matter: -but to make one pattern of the huge confusion requires a knowledge -vouchsafed only to him who has acquired by daily contact the largest -and most vital experiences. The immensity of financial transactions, -the intricate shrewdness of politicians, aside from their corruptions, -the nice checks and balances of a higher social life must necessarily -escape the eye of the literary artist mainly because they lie beyond -his ken. - -Cerebrally Mr. Ford is multiparous. He can be busy with a play, a -story, a biography, and with editing some historical work during the -same interval of time--the real marvel of it all being that, when these -come to publication, the world, which is said to know clearly what it -wants, accepts the results with apparent satisfaction. The power of -driving a quadriga of new books around the popular arena amid no little -applause, is due, I think, to qualities not inherent in the literary -mind as such, but implying a wider mental grasp. - -A spirit of restlessness takes hold upon Mr. Ford when he is hardest -at work, and he shifts at pleasure from one to another of his several -desks or tables. I should imagine that the curiosity hunter of the -future, who might wish to possess the desk at which or the chair on -which the author of “Peter Stirling” sat when he penned that book, -might comfortably fill a storage-warehouse van with his new-found joys. -Like most good fellows who write, Mr. Ford knows the value of the night -and often works to best advantage when honest folk have been long abed. -It is a pleasure to think of the occasionally fortunate person who -writes when he wants to, not when he must, though I do not think it -would be difficult for so conscientious a worker as Mr. Ford to get up -friction at shortest notice and as occasion might require. - -While it has been my purpose to refrain scrupulously from ministering -to that curiosity which cares less for the essential qualities, and -the intellectual methods of a character prominently before the world, -than for intrusive detail concerning personal caprices of taste and -modes of living, I shall not be content if I do not say that as a -personality Mr. Ford is as extraordinary as in his achievement. He is -alive to every issue of the day and of the hour. He is brilliant at -conversation, and perhaps even more brilliant at controversy, for I -can imagine no opposing argument so bristling with facts as to prevent -his making a cavalry charge on a whole table of unsympathetic hearers. -Life is at its keenest pitch when one is privileged to hear his urgent -voice, with no little command withal in its notes, and to see the -invincible clearness and dominance in his black-brown eyes. - -This spirit of fearlessness, chastened as it is by an attitude of real -toleration and open-mindedness, colors Mr. Ford’s personal sympathies. -Believing as he does that every man must eventually work out his own -salvation and that present well-being may justly be sacrificed to -future growth, it would be impossible for him to choose any channel -for the expression of his personal loyalty other than that which should -strengthen and develop. It is no strange thing, then, that those -who seek his aid and counsel find him most helpful through a power -of stimulation which enhances instead of detracts from the sense of -self-reliance. - - LINDSAY SWIFT. - -[Since the foregoing was written, Mr. Paul Leicester Ford has died, -being shot through the heart by his brother Malcolm, who it is only -charitable to believe was temporarily insane. Mr. Ford had his best -years before him. He recently married, moved into a fine house built -to suit his own needs near Central Park, and his plans were mapped out -years in advance. He was engaged on a novel at the time of his death, -but had done so little on it that there is no possibility of its ever -seeing the light of print.--EDITORS.] - - - - Transcriber’s Notes - -Errors in punctuation have been fixed. - -In the table of contents, “George P. Latkrop” changed to “George P. -Lathrop” - -Page 32: “Boker make known” changed to “Boker made known” - -Page 54: “Scotch balled” changed to “Scotch ballad” - -Page 93: “multifarous aspects” changed to “multifarious aspects” - -Page 114: “first appearancee” changed to “first appearance” - -Page 174: “who anounnces” changed to “who announces” - -Page 202: “bibliopole’s art” changed to “bibliophile’s art” - -Page 284: “king has abdicted” changed to “king has abdicated” - -Page 389: “New Engand” changed to “New England” - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUTHORS AT HOME *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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L. & J. B. Gilder—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> - <style> /* <![CDATA[ */ - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; - text-indent: 1em; -} - -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} -.p0 {text-indent: 0em;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } - -hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%;} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} -table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; width: 60%;} -table.autotable td, -table.autotable th { padding: 4px; } -.x-ebookmaker table {width: 95%;} - -.tdr {text-align: right;} -.page {width: 3em; vertical-align: top;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; - text-indent: 0; -} - -.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} - -.right {text-align: right; text-indent: 0em;} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 5%; -} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -/* Images */ - -img { - max-width: 100%; - height: auto; -} -.w50 {width: 50%;} -.x-ebookmaker .w50 {width: 75%;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - - -/* Poetry */ -.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 5%; text-indent: 0em;} -/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry in browsers */ -/* .poetry {display: inline-block;} */ -/* large inline blocks don't split well on paged devices */ -@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } -.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block; margin-left: 5%} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - -.xbig {font-size: 2em;} -.small {font-size: 0.8em;} - -abbr[title] { - text-decoration: none; -} - - /* ]]> */ </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Authors at home, by J. L. & J. B. Gilder</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Authors at home</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>Personal and biographical sketches of well-known American writers</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editors: J. L. & J. B. Gilder</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em;'></p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 7, 2023 [eBook #69728]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUTHORS AT HOME ***</div> - - -<p class="center p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img001"> -<img src="images/001.jpg" class="w50" alt="Author portrait"> -</span></p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - - -<h1><span class="smcap">Authors at Home</span></h1> - - -<p class="center p2"><i>PERSONAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF -WELL-KNOWN AMERICAN WRITERS</i> -</p> -<p class="center p2"> -EDITED BY<br> -J. L. & J. B. GILDER<br> -</p><hr class="r5"> -<p class="center p4"> -NEW YORK<br> -A. WESSELS COMPANY<br> -1902<br> -</p></div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - - - - -<p class="center"> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1889</span>,<br> -BY<br> -O. M. DUNHAM.</p> -<hr class="r5"><p class="center"> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1902</span>,<br> -BY<br> -A. WESSELS COMPANY.<br> -</p> - -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="EDITORS_NOTE">EDITOR’S NOTE</h2> -</div> -<hr class="r5"> - -<p>The sketches of authors at home in this book have as their special -value the fact that the writer of each article was selected for the -purpose by the author himself. The sketches appeared from time to time -in <i>The Critic</i>, where they attracted particular attention by -virtue of their authenticity, as well as for the names of the subjects -and the writers.</p> - -<p>The Canadian border has been crossed in the article on Prof. Goldwin -Smith; but with this exception the series treats only of native -American writers who make their home on this side of the Atlantic. -Since these sketches were written, some of the most distinguished of -the authors in the list have died, all of them meeting natural deaths, -with one exception, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Paul Leicester Ford.</p> - -<p class="right"> -J. L. G.<br> -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">New York</span>, <i>June, 1902</i>.</p> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5"> -<table class="autotable"> -<tr><th></th><th></th><th class="tdr page">PAGE</th></tr> -<tr><td> -<a href="#THOMAS_BAILEY_ALDRICH"><span class="smcap">Thomas Bailey Aldrich.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>By William H. Bishop.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_1">1</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#GEORGE_BANCROFT"><span class="smcap">George Bancroft.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>B. G. Lovejoy.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_17">17</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#GEORGE_H_BOKER"><span class="smcap">George H. Boker.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>George P. Lathrop.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_29">29</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#JOHN_BURROUGHS"><span class="smcap">John Burroughs.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>Roger Riordan.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_39">39</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#GEORGE_W_CABLE"><span class="smcap">George W. Cable.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>J. K. Wetherill.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_49">49</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#S_L_CLEMENS_MARK_TWAIN"><span class="smcap">S. L. Clemens (Mark Twain).</span></a> -</td><td> <i>Chas. Hopkins Clark.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_61">61</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#GEORGE_WILLIAM_CURTIS"><span class="smcap">George William Curtis.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>George P. Lathrop.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_73">73</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#DR_EDWARD_EGGLESTON"><span class="smcap"><abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Edward Eggleston.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>O. C. Auringer.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_83">83</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#EDWARD_EVERETT_HALE"><span class="smcap">Edward Everett Hale.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>William Sloane Kennedy.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_97">97</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#JOEL_CHANDLER_HARRIS_UNCLE_REMUS"><span class="smcap">Joel Chandler Harris.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>Erastus Brainerd.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_111">111</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#PROF_J_A_HARRISON"><span class="smcap">Prof. J. A. Harrison.</span> </a> -</td><td> <i>W. M. Baskervill.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_125">125</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#COL_JOHN_HAY"><span class="smcap"><abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> John Hay.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>B. G. Lovejoy.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_135">135</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#THOMAS_WENTWORTH_HIGGINSON"><span class="smcap"><abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> T. W. Higginson.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>George Willis Cooke.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_147">147</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#DR_OLIVER_WENDELL_HOLMES"><span class="smcap"><abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> O. W. Holmes.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>Alice Wellington Rollins.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_163">163</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#JULIA_WARD_HOWE"><span class="smcap">Julia Ward Howe.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>Maude Howe.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_181">181</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#MR_HOWELLS"><span class="smcap">William Dean Howells.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>William H. Bishop.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_193">193</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#CHARLES_GODFREY_LELAND"><span class="smcap">Charles Godfrey Leland.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>Elizabeth Robins Pennell.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_211">211</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#JAMES_RUSSELL_LOWELL"><span class="smcap">James Russell Lowell.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>George E. Woodberry.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_227">227</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#DONALD_G_MITCHELL_IK_MARVEL"><span class="smcap">Donald G. Mitchell (Ik Marvel).</span></a> -</td><td> <i>Henry H. Beers.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_237">237</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#FRANCIS_PARKMAN"><span class="smcap">Francis Parkman.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>Charles H. Farnham.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_253">253</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#GOLDWIN_SMITH"><span class="smcap">Prof. Goldwin Smith.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>Charles G. D. Roberts.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_263">263</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#EDMUND_C_STEDMAN"><span class="smcap">Edmund Clarence Stedman.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>Anna Bowman Dodd.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_273">273</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#RICHARD_HENRY_STODDARD"><span class="smcap">Richard Henry Stoddard.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>Joseph B. Gilder.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_291">291</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#HARRIET_BEECHER_STOWE"><span class="smcap">Harriet Beecher Stowe.</span></a> -</td><td> <i><abbr title="reverend">Rev.</abbr> Joseph H. Twichell.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_313">313</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#CHARLES_DUDLEY_WARNER"><span class="smcap">Charles Dudley Warner.</span></a> -</td><td> <i><abbr title="reverend">Rev.</abbr> Joseph H. Twichell.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_323">323</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#WALT_WHITMAN"><span class="smcap">Walt Whitman.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>George Selwyn.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_333">333</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#JOHN_GREENLEAF_WHITTIER"><span class="smcap">John Greenleaf Whittier.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>Harriet Prescott Spofford.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_343">343</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#MRS_MARGARET_DELAND"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Margaret Deland.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>Lucia Purdy.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_355">355</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#F_MARION_CRAWFORD"><span class="smcap">F. Marion Crawford.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>William Bond.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_369">369</a> -</td></tr><tr><td> -<a href="#PAUL_LEICESTER_FORD"><span class="smcap">Paul Leicester Ford.</span></a> -</td><td> <i>Lindsay Swift.</i> -</td><td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_385">385</a> -</td></tr> -</table> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THOMAS_BAILEY_ALDRICH">THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH -<br><span class="small">ON BEACON HILL, AND ROUND IT.</span></h2> - -</div> -<p>Beacon Hill is the great pyramid, or horn of dominion, as it were, -of Boston’s most solid respectability of the older sort. Half-way -up Beacon Hill, Aldrich is to be met with at the office of <i>The -Atlantic Monthly</i>, of which he has been the editor since 1881. The -publishers of this magazine have established its headquarters, together -with their general business, in the old Quincy mansion, at No. 4 Park -Street, which they have had pleasantly remodeled for their purposes. -Close by, on the steep slope, is the Union Club; across the street the -long, shaded stretch of Boston Common; and above it is the State House, -presiding over the quarter, with its imposing golden dome half hidden -amid the greenery. The editor’s office is secluded, small, neat, and -looks down into a quiet old graveyard, like those of <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> Paul’s and -Trinity in New York. It seems a place strictly adapted to business, -and is cut off from the outer world even by so much of a means of -communication as a speaking-tube. There was formerly a speaking-tube, -but an importunate visitor had his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> ear to it, and received a somewhat -hasty message intended only in confidence for the call-boy, and it -was abolished. “Imagine the feelings of a sensitive man—<em>my</em> -feelings, of course—on such an occasion,” says the editor with -characteristic drollery. “I flew at the tube, plugged it up with a -cork, and drove that in with a poker!” Among the few small objects that -can be called ornament scattered about is remarked a photograph of a -severely classic doorway, which might have belonged to some famous -monument of antiquity. It has a funereal look, to tell the truth, but -it proves to be nothing less than the doorway of the residence of -Thomas Bailey Aldrich himself, in Mt. Vernon Street. Like one of his -own paradoxes, it has a very different aspect when put amid its proper -surroundings.</p> - -<p>Mt. Vernon Street crosses the topmost height of Beacon Hill. Parallel -to the famed thoroughfare of Beacon Street, it is like a more retired -military line that has the compensation for its retirement of being -spared the active brunt of service. A very few minutes’ climb from the -office of <i>The Atlantic Monthly</i> suffices to reach it. Precisely -at that portion of it where the pretty grass-plots begin, to the houses -on the upper side, is the attractive, stately mansion of an elder -generation, in which Aldrich has taken up his abode. He bought it, -some years<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span> ago, of <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Bigelow, a well-known name in Boston, and made -it his own. It is one of a block, and is of red brick, four windows -(and perhaps thirty feet) wide, and four tall stories in height, with -a story of dormers above that. The classic doorway of white marble, -solidly built, after the honest fashion of its time, is but a small -detail after all in such an amplitude of façade, and melts easily into -place as part of a genial whole. The quarter, its sidewalks and all, -is chiefly of old red brick, tempered with the green of grass-plots, -shrubs, and climbing vines. It has a pervading air of antiquity, and -it quaintly suggests a bit of Chester or Coventry. The neighbors are, -on the one hand, Charles Francis Adams; on the other, Bancroft, son -of the historian; while, diagonally across the way, is a lady who is, -by popular rumor, the richest woman in New England. The rooms of the -house take a pleasing irregularity from the partial curvature of the -walls, front and rear. They are all spacious, above-stairs as well as -below. The “hall bedroom,” of modern progress, was hardly invented in -its time. A platform and steps at one side of the hall, on entering -(they clear a small alley to the rear) have a sort of altar-like -aspect. The owner or his books might some time be apotheosized there, -at need, amid candles and flowers. Aldrich has been fortunate in his -marriage as in so many other ways. His family<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> consists of a congenial -and accomplished wife, and “the twins,” not unknown to literature. The -most pervading trait of the interior is a sense of a discriminating -judgment and ardor in household decoration. Both husband and wife -share this taste, and together they have filled this abode and their -two country houses with ample evidence of it, and with rare and taking -objects brought from a wide circle of travel and research. Tribute -should be paid to the quietness of tone, the air of comfort, in the -whole. The collections are not made an end in themselves, but are -parts of a harmonious interior. Several stories are carpeted alike, in -a soft, low-toned hue. In days of professional decorators who throw -together all the hues of the kaleidoscope, and none in a patch larger -than your hand, and held upon these, brass, ebony, stamped leather, -marquetry, enamels and bottle-glass, in a kind of chaotic pudding—in -these days such an exceptional reserve as is here manifest seems little -less than a matter of notable personal daring. The furniture is of the -Colonial time, with a touch of the First Empire, and each piece has -its own history. There is a collection of curious old mirrors. In a -variety of old glazed closets and pantries in the dining-room (behind a -fine reception-room, on the entrance floor), Mrs. Aldrich shows a rare -collection of lovely china, both for use and ornament.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span></p> - -<p>This is a dining-room that has entertained many a distinguished guest; -and the little dinners, to which invitations are rarely refused by the -favored ones, are said to be almost as easy to give as enjoyable to -take part in. The agreeable host, who has always allied himself much -with artists, has on occasion dined the New York Tile Club. Again, his -occupation as editor of <i>The Atlantic</i> makes it often his duty -or privilege to bring home strangers of note who drop down upon him -from afar. The unexpected is, indeed, one of the things consistently -to be looked for in Aldrich. On the evenings of the week when he is -not entertaining, he is very apt to be dining out himself. He is a -social genius, and understands the arts of good fellowship. Good things -abound even more, if possible, in his talk than in his writings. Every -acquaintance of his will give you a list of happy scintillations of his -wit and humor. There is nothing of the recluse by nature in Aldrich; -nothing, either, of the conventional cut of poet or sage in his aspect. -His looks might somewhat astonish those—as the guileless are so often -astonished in this way—who had preconceived ideas of him from the -delicate refinement, the exquisite perfection of finish, of his verse. -As I saw him come in the other day from Lynn in a heavy, serviceable -reefing-jacket, adapted to the variable summer climate of that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> point, -he had much more the air of athlete than poet. I shall not enter upon -the abstruse calculation of what age a man may now have who was born in -1837, but in looks, manners, habits, Aldrich distinctly belongs to the -school of the younger men. He is now somewhat thickset; he is blond, -and of middle height. He has features that lend themselves easily to -the humorous play of his fancy. The ends of his mustache, pointed -somewhat in the French manner, seem to accentuate with a certain -fitness and <em>chic</em> the quips and cranks which so often issue from -beneath it. Mentally, Aldrich seems Yankee, crossed with the Frenchman. -In the matter of literary finish, he is refined by fastidiousness of -taste to the last degree. He is a man of strong likes and dislikes; it -would sometimes seem fair almost to call them prejudices. In his work -he has scarcely any morbid side. He is the celebrator of every thing -bright and charming, of things opalescent and rainbow-hued, of pretty -women, roses, jewels, humming-bird and oriole, of the blue sky and sea -and the daintiest romance of the daintiest spots of foreign climes. If -man invented the arts to please,—as can hardly be denied,—few can be -called more truly in the vein of art than Thomas Bailey Aldrich.</p> - -<p>From the rear window of the dining-room one looks out into a little -court-yard, more like a bit<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> of Chester than ever. The building lot -runs quite through to Pinckney Street, and is closed in on the further -side by an odd little house of red brick, which is rented as a bachelor -apartment. It was formerly a petty shop, until Aldrich bethought him -both to transform it thus into a desirable adjunct, and to make it -pay a considerable part of the taxes. It is like a dwelling out of a -pantomime. One would hardly be surprised to see Humpty Dumpty dive -into or out of it at any moment. Pinckney Street might have a chapter -to itself. Narrower, modester, and at a further remove still from the -front than Mt. Vernon Street, it begins to be invaded now by quiet -lodging-houses, but still retains its quaintness and a high order of -respectability. A bright glimpse of the sea is had at the end of its -contracted down-hill perspective, over Charles Street. Aldrich formerly -lived in Pinckney Street, then in Charles Street, and thence removed -to his present abode. But, if it be a question of view, we must ascend -rather the high, winding staircase to the large cupola, with railed-in -platform, set upon the steep roof. The ground falls away hence on every -side and all of undulating, much-varied Boston is visible. Mark Twain -has pronounced the prospect from here at night, with the electric -lights glimmering in the leafy Common and the myriad of others round -about, as one of the most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> impressive within his wide experience. The -golden dome of the State House rears its bulk aloft, close at hand. -Up one flight from the entrance are the two principal drawing-rooms -of the house, large and handsome. The most conspicuous objects on the -walls of these are a few unknown old masters after the style of Fra -Angelico—trophies of travel. There are also a remarkable pair of -figures in Venetian wood-carving, nearly life-size. The pictures are, -for the rest, chiefly original sketches done for illustration of the -author’s books by the talented younger American artists.</p> - -<p>On the same floor is the library, a modest-sized room, made to seem -smaller than it is through being compactly filled from floor to ceiling -with a collection of three thousand books. The specialties chiefly -observed in its composition are Americana and first editions. Aldrich -would disclaim any very ambitious design, but there are volumes here -which might tempt the cupidity of the most finished book-fancier, and -of a kind that bring liberal sums in market. Something artistic in -the form has generally guided the choice, as for instance Voltaire’s -“La Pucelle,” and the “Contes Moraux” of Marmontel, containing all -the quaint early plates. You take down from the shelves examples of -Aldrich’s own works done into several languages. Here is his “Queen -of Sheba” in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> Spanish, Valencia, 1879. Here is the treasure which -perhaps he would hardly exchange against any other—the autograph -letter of Hawthorne warmly praising his early poems,—saying, among -other things, that some of them seem almost too delicate even to be -breathed upon. Never did a young writer receive more intelligent and -sympathetic recognition from a greater source. Among the curiosities -of the shelves in yet another way is a gift copy of the early poems of -Fitz-Greene Halleck to Catherine Sedgwick. On the title-page is found -a patronizing line of memorandum from that minor celebrity in American -letters, reading “<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Halleck, the author of this book, is a resident -of New York.” Aldrich has never been subjected to the severe pecuniary -straits which befall so many literary men. He has undergone in his -time, however, sufficient pressure to acquaint him with that side of -life at least as an experience, to give him a proper appreciation no -doubt of his ample worldly comfort, and also to furnish the stimulus -for the development of his early powers. He had prepared, in his native -town of Portsmouth, to enter Harvard College, but, his father dying, -he became a clerk instead in the commission house of a rich uncle in -New York. He had his own way to make in the literary world; he began -at the very foot of the ladder, with fugitive contributions, and by -degrees identified himself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> with the newspapers and magazines of the -day. He even saw something of Bohemian life, a knowledge of which is no -undesirable element in one who is to be a man of the world. He dined at -Pfaff’s, and was one of a coterie which circled around <i>The Saturday -Press</i> and the brilliant, erratic Henry D. Clapp. I recollect -passing with him the office of this defunct journal in Frankfort -Street, on the occasion when he had come to New York to be the -recipient of a complimentary breakfast at Delmonico’s in honor of his -induction into the editorship of <i>The Atlantic Monthly</i>. He looked -with interest at the dingy quarters commemorating so very different -a phase of his life, and repeated to me the valedictory address of -the paper: “This paper is discontinued for want of funds, which, by a -coincidence, is precisely the reason for which it was started.”</p> - -<p>I have described Aldrich’s town house. He passes much of his time at -Ponkapog, twelve miles away behind the Blue Hills, and at Lynn, on the -sea-coast. “After its black bass and wild duck and teal,” says our -author in one of his charming essays, “solitude is the chief staple -of Ponkapog.... The nearest railway station (Heaven be praised!) is -two miles distant, and the seclusion is without a flaw. Ponkapog has -one mail a day; two mails a day would render the place uninhabitable.” -He took a large old farmhouse<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span> in the secluded place, remodeled it, -arranged for himself an attractive working study, and, used to men -and cities though he was, for a period made this exclusively his -home. His leading motive was the health of his boys, who needed an -out-of-door life. Ponkapog owes him a debt of gratitude for spreading -its name abroad. Until the publication of his entertaining book of -travel sketches, “From Ponkapog to Pesth,” it must have been wholly -unheard of, and even then I, for one, can recollect feeling that the -appellation was so ingenious as to be probably fictitious. With a -continuity that speaks strongly in its favor, Aldrich has passed the -summers at Lynn for seventeen years. From these must be excepted, -however, the summers of his jaunts to Europe, which are rather -frequent. The latest of these took him to the Russian fair at Nijni -Novgorod. In another, perhaps unlike any other traveler, he passed a -“day [and a day only] in Africa.” At Lynn, he has lived, in different -villas, all along the breezy Ocean Road. This is a street worthy of its -name, and it has a certain flavor of Newport, being a little remote -from the central bustle of the great shoe-manufacturing mart to which -it belongs. Others will quote a list of varied advantages for the -site; Aldrich will be apt to tell you he likes it for its nearness to -the railway station. The present house, of which he has taken a long -lease, is a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> large square wooden villa, painted red. It stands just -in the edge of a little indentation known as Deer Cove. “After me, -probably—who knows?” says the humorous host, who is not at all afraid -of a bit of the common vernacular. Nahant, Little Nahant and minor -resorts are in the view in front; Swampscott is three-quarters of a -mile away, at the left, and Marblehead at no great distance beyond -that. The feature of the water view is the bold little reef of Egg -Rock, with three white dots of habitations on its back. “Egg Rock is -exactly opposite everywhere. I recollect once trying to find some place -to which it was not opposite, just as in childhood I tried once to walk -around to the other side of the moon. In this latter case I suppose I -must have walked fully two miles.” So my host describes his peculiar -experience with it.</p> - -<p>The main tide of fashion sets rather towards Beverly Farms and -Manchester than in this direction. The family lead, gladly, a quiet -life, little disturbed by a bustle of visits. They depend chiefly for -society upon the guests they bring down with them. They find plenty -of occupation and interest, too, in caring for their boys. These are -twins, as I have said, and so much twins as to be with difficulty -distinguished apart. I was interested to know if they began to develop -the literary faculty. ‘Heaven forbid!’ said their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> father in comic -horror. Aldrich’s study at Lynn is a modest upper room, in a wing, with -a plain gray cartridge-paper on the walls, no pictures, and nothing -to conspire with a flagging attention in its wanderings. One’s first -impulse, on looking up from the little writing-table in the center of -the floor, would be to cast his eyes out of the single window, where -Egg Rock, in a bit of blue sea, is again visible. This window should be -an inspiring influence, letting in its illumination upon the fabrics -of the heated brain; and not in the gentler mood alone, for tragedy -is often abroad there. The fog shrouds Egg Rock, then rolls in and -envelopes the universe under its stealthy domination; again, the gale -spatters the brine upon the window-panes, and beats and roars about the -house as it might on the light at Montauk.</p> - -<p>As an editor, Aldrich is methodical. He goes early in the day to the -office of <i>The Atlantic Monthly</i>, and there writes his letters, -examines his manuscripts, and sees (or does not see) his visitors upon -a regular system. As to his personal habit of writing his literature, -he has none—at least no times and seasons. He waits for the mood, and -defends this practice as the best, or, at least for him, almost the -only one possible. This has to do, no doubt, with the small volume -of his writings, smaller comparatively than that of most of his -contemporaries. This result is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> perhaps contributed to also by the easy -circumstances of his life, and yet more by his devotion to extreme -literary finish. Experienced though he is, and successful though he is, -no manuscript leaves his hands to be printed till he has made at least -three distinct and amended drafts of it. He could never have been a -newspaper man; the merest paragraph would have received the same care, -and in the newspaper such painstaking is ruinous. His was a talent that -had to succeed in the front rank or not at all. He has produced little -of late, far too little to meet the demands of the audience of eager -admirers he has created. So delightful a pen, so droll and original -a fancy, so charming a muse, we can ill afford to spare. Yet that -mysterious genius that goes about collecting material for the archives -of permanent fame can have but little to dismiss from a total so small -and a performance so choice.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">William Henry Bishop.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>[After ten years as editor of <i>The Atlantic Monthly</i>, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Aldrich -resigned his position, and has since that time been living in Boston. -In 1893 he published “An Old Town by the Sea,” and two years later -“Unguarded Gates, and Other Poems.”—<span class="smcap">Editors.</span>]</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">GEORGE BANCROFT</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="GEORGE_BANCROFT">GEORGE BANCROFT<br><span class="small">AT WASHINGTON</span></h2></div> - - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Bancroft, the historian, was “at home” beneath every roof-tree, -beside every fireside, where books are household gods. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Bancroft, -the octogenarian, who came into the world hand in hand with the -Nineteenth Century, was especially at home at the capital of the -country whose history was to him a labor of love and the absorbing -occupation of a lifetime. For although his career was one of active -participation in public affairs, his pursuits ran parallel with his -literary work. He was contributing to the making of one period of a -United States history while his pen was engaged in writing of other -periods. If self-gratulation is ever permitted to authors, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Bancroft -must have more than once exclaimed, “The lines have fallen to me in -pleasant places!” as he availed himself of opportunities which only an -ambassador could secure and a scholar improve.</p> - -<p>It is the prose-Homer of our Republic whom it is my privilege to -present to the readers of this sketch. Picture to yourself a venerable -man, of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> medium height, slender figure, erect bearing; with lofty -brow thinned, but not stripped, of its silvery locks; a full, snowy -beard adding to his patriarchal appearance; bluish gray eyes, which -neither use nor time has deprived of brightness; a large nose of -Roman type, such as I have somewhere read or heard that the first -Napoleon regarded as the sign of latent force; “small white hands,” -which Ali Pasha assured Byron were the marks by which he recognized -the poet to be “a man of birth”;—let your imagination combine these -details, and you have a sketch for the historian’s portrait. The -frame is a medium-sized room of good, high pitch. In the center is a -rectangular table covered with books, pamphlets and other indications -of a literary life. Shelving reaches to the ceiling, and every -fraction of space is occupied by volumes of all sizes, from folio to -duodecimo; a door on the left opens into a room which is also full to -overflowing with the valuable collections of a lifetime; and further -on is yet another apartment equally crowded with the historian’s dumb -servants, companions, and friends; while rooms and nooks elsewhere -have yielded to Literature’s rights of squatter sovereignty. In the -Republic of Letters, all books are citizens, and one is as good as -another in the eyes of the maid-servant who kindles the breakfast-room -fire, save perhaps the vellum Plautus or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> illuminated missal. But men -are known not only by the society they keep, but by the books which -surround them. Just as there are “books which are no books,” so are -there libraries which are no libraries. But a library selected by a -scholar who was a book-hunter in European fields, who spared neither -time, money, labor, nor any available agency in his collection, must -be rich in literary treasures, particularly those bearing upon his -specialty; and such was <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Bancroft’s library. The facilities which -personal popularity, the fraternal spirit of literary men, and the -courtesy of official relations afford, were employed by <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Bancroft -when ambassador in procuring authentic copies of invaluable writings -and state-papers bearing immediately or remotely on the history of -the American Colonies and Republic. To these facilities, and his -own indefatigable industry and perseverance, is due the priceless -collection of manuscripts which, copied in a large and legible -handwriting, well-bound and systematically classified, adorned his -shelves. Of the printed volumes, not the least precious was a copy of -“Don Juan,” presented to him with the author’s compliments, sixty-six -years ago.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Bancroft’s home was a commodious double house, with brown-stone -front, plain and solid-looking, which was, before the War, the winter -residence of a wealthy Maryland family. Diagonally<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> opposite, at the -corner of the intersecting streets, is the “Decatur House,” whither -the gallant sailor was borne after his duel with Commodore Barron, and -where he died after lingering in agony. Within a stone’s throw is the -White House; and I would say that the historian lived in the centre -of Washington’s Belgravia, had not the British Minister’s residence, -with an attraction stronger than centripetal, drawn around it a -social colony whose claims must be at least debated before judgment -is pronounced. In front of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Bancroft’s house is a small courtyard -in which, in spring-time, beds of hyacinths blooming in sweet and -close communion show his love of flowers. When conversing with the -historian, it was impossible to ignore the retrospect of a life so -full of interest, for imagination persists in picturing the boyish -graduate of Harvard; the ambitious student at Gottingen and Berlin; -the inquisitive and ever-acquiring traveler; the pupil returned to -the bosom of his Alma Mater and promoted to a Fellowship with her -Faculty—preacher, teacher, poet and translator, before his calling -and election as his country’s historian was sure; his entrance into -the arena of politics and rapid advance to the line of leadership; his -membership in <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Polk’s Cabinet; his subsequent Mission to England; -his much later Mission to Berlin, where he succeeded in obtaining from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> -Bismarck a recognition of the “American doctrine” that naturalization -is expatriation, and negotiated a treaty which endeared him to the -German-American heart, since the Fatherland may now be visited without -the risk of compulsory service in the army.</p> - -<p>When he first went abroad, an American was an object of curiosity to -Europeans, and we may compare his reception among German scholars to -that of Burns by the metaphysicians, philosophers and social leaders -of Edinburgh—first surprise, and then fraternal welcome. Two years -were spent at Gottingen, and half a year at Berlin. During this period -he was the pupil and companion of the great philologist Wolf, of whom -Ticknor’s delightful Memoirs contain such an entertaining account; -he studied under Schlosser, who so frequently appears in the pages -of Crabb Robinson’s Memoirs; he was a favorite with Heeren, whose -endorsement of his history was the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">imprimatur</i> of a literary -Pope. In his subsequent wanderings through France, Switzerland, and -over the Alps into Italy, he experienced the friendly offices of -men distinguished in literature, famous in history, and foremost -in politics. Some time was spent in Paris. With Lafayette intimate -relations were established; so much so, that the champion of republican -principles enlisted the young and sympathetic American in his too -sanguine<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> schemes. Manuscript addresses were entrusted to <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Bancroft -to be published and disseminated at certain places along his Italian -journey. But the youthful lieutenant saw soon the impracticability of -the veteran’s hopes and plans.</p> - -<p>It was a novel sensation to converse with one who survived so many -famous men of many lands with whom he came in contact; one who -discussed Byron with Goethe at Weimar, and Goethe with Byron at -Monte Nero; who, seventy years ago, went to Washington and dined at -the White House with the younger Adams; who since mingled with the -successive generations of American statesmen; witnessed the death of -one great political party, and the birth of another, but himself clung -with conservative consistency to the principles he espoused in early -manhood. Yet neither his years nor his tastes exiled him from the -enjoyment of a congenial element of society at the capital. But his -circle rarely touched the circumference which surrounds the gay and -ultra-fashionable coteries of a Washington season.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Bancroft had a warm sympathy for youth and childhood, and took -pleasure in the occasions that brought them around him. His habits -were those of one who early appreciated the fact that time is the most -reliable and available tool of the worker. It was for years his custom -to rise to his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> labors at five o’clock. After a noon-luncheon, he took -the exercise which contributed so much to his physical and intellectual -activity. He covered considerable distances daily on foot or horseback, -for he was both pedestrian and rider of the English type; or, if the -weather did not favor these methods of laying in a supply of oxygen, he -might have been seen reclining in a roomy two-horse phaeton.</p> - -<p>Two generations intervened between the youthful visitor at the capital -and the venerable statesman and historian, who in his last days, -beneath his own vine and fig-tree, “crowned a youth of labor with an -age of ease.” Yet the preacher, teacher, poet, essayist, translator, -philologist, linguist, statesman, diplomat, historian, pursued with -tempered ardor his literary avocations. Readers of <i>The North -American Review</i> had the pleasure of perusing, some years ago, -his valuable paper on Holmes’s “Emerson.” He published more recently -(in 1886) a brochure on the Legal Tender Acts and Decisions; but -nothing was ever allowed to interfere with the revision of his <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">opus -major</i>, the History of the United States, the sixth and last volume -of the new edition of which was issued by the Appletons in February, -1885.</p> - -<p>As an octogenarian is not, strictly speaking, a contemporary, I -venture to enter the realm of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> biography, and refer to what renders -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Bancroft the most interesting of American authors. His translation -from the path of pedagogy, from the dream-land of poetry, from the -atmosphere of theology, and the arena of party strife and the novelty -of official life, was a transition from extreme to extreme. Yet he -brought with him into his new fields the best fruits of his experience -in the old. He did not inflame the passions of the masses at the -hustings, but instructed their judgment. When he assumed the office of -Collector of the Port of Boston, he exhibited a capacity for business -which would have silenced the modern Senator who not only characterized -scholars as “them literary fellers,” but prefixed an adjective which -may not be repeated to ears polite. How many Cabinet officers are -remembered for any permanent reform or progressive movement they have -accomplished or initiated? But to <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Bancroft the country owes the -establishment of the Naval School at Annapolis; and science is indebted -to his fostering care for the contributory usefulness of the National -Observatory, which languished until he took the Naval portfolio. When -at the Court of <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> James he negotiated America’s first postal treaty -with Great Britain; while allusion has been made to the important -service rendered at the German capital. In politics <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Bancroft was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> -always a Democrat. He was one of those who angered fanatics by their -love for the Constitution, and enraged secessionists by their devotion -to the Union,—who labored to avert the War, but whom the first gun -fired at Fort Sumter rallied to the support of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Lincoln. And when -the last great eulogy of the martyred President was to be pronounced, -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Bancroft was chosen to deliver it.</p> - -<p>On the approach of summer, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Bancroft led the exodus which leaves the -capital a deserted village. July found him domiciled at Newport, in -an old, roomy house, which faces Bellevue Avenue and is surrounded by -venerable trees, beneath whose wide-spreading shade the visitor drives -to the historian’s summer home. The view of the ocean is one of the -accidental charms of the spot, but the historian’s own hand dedicated -an extensive plot to a garden of roses—the flower which was nearest to -his heart. At Newport he led a life similar to that in Washington. He -rose early and saw the sun rise above the sea; he devoted a portion of -his time to literary pursuits, and entered into the social life of the -place, without taking part in its gayeties. In October he struck his -tent, and returned to his other home in time to enjoy the beauties of -our Indian summer.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">B. G. Lovejoy.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span></p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span></p> -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="center xbig">GEORGE H. BOKER</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="GEORGE_H_BOKER">GEORGE H. BOKER<br><span class="small">IN PHILADELPHIA</span></h2></div> - - -<p>Like Washington Irving, Bancroft, Hawthorne, Lowell, Motley, Bayard -Taylor, and Bret Harte, George H. Boker may be counted among those -American authors who have been called upon to serve their country in -an official capacity abroad. But the greater part of his life was -spent in Philadelphia, where he was born in 1823. The house stands in -Walnut Street; a building of good height, with a facing of conventional -brown-stone, and set in the heart of the distinctively aristocratic -quarter. For <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Boker was born to the inheritance of wealth and a -strong social position, and it is natural that the place and the -face of his house should testify to this circumstance. In fact, he -was so closely connected with the society which enjoys a reputed -leisure, that when as a young man he declared his purpose of making -authorship and literature his life-work, his circle regarded him as -hopelessly erratic. Philadelphians, in those days, could respect -imported poets, and no doubt partially appreciated poetry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> in books, -as an ornamental adjunct of life. But poetry in an actual, breathing, -male American creature of their own “set,” was a different matter. The -infant industry of the native Muse was one that they never thought of -fostering.</p> - -<p>It was soon after graduating at Nassau Hall, Princeton, that Boker made -known his intention of becoming an author. From what I have heard, -I infer that his resolve caused his neighbors to look upon him with -somewhat the same feeling as if he had suddenly been deposited on their -decorous doorsteps in the character of a foundling. Nevertheless, he -persisted quietly; and he succeeded in maintaining his position as -a poet of high rank and an accomplished man of the world, who also -took an active part in public affairs. He takes place with Motley on -our roll of well-known authors, as a rich young man giving himself to -letters; and it is even more remarkable that he should have cultivated -poetry in Philadelphia, where the conditions were unfavorable, -than that Motley should have taken up history in Boston, where the -conditions were wholly propitious. Boker’s house bears the impress -of his various and comprehensive tastes. To this extent it becomes -an illustration of his character, and the illustration is worth -considering.</p> - -<p>The first floor, as one enters from the hallway,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> contains the -dining-room at the back, and a long, stately drawing-room fitted -up with old-time richness and imbued with an atmosphere of courtly -reception. But the library or study is above, on the second floor. -It has two windows looking out southward over the garden in the rear -of the house, and the whole effect of the room is that of luxurious -comfort mingled with an opulence of books. The walls are hung with -brown and gilded paper, and the visitor’s feet press upon a heavy -Turkish carpet, brought by the poet himself from Constantinople, -suggesting the quietude of Tennyson’s “hushed seraglios.” The chairs -and the lounges are covered with yellow morocco. On the wall between -the two windows hangs a copy of the Chandos portrait of Shakspeare; and -below this there is a large writing-table, provided with drawers and -cupboards, where <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Boker kept his manuscripts. His work, however, was -not done at this desk, for in the centre of the room there was a round -table under the chandelier, with a large arm-chair drawn up beside it. -In this chair, and at this round table, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Boker wrote nearly all -his works; but, unlike most authors, he did not do his writing on the -table. A portfolio held in front of him, while he sat in the chair, -served his purpose; and it may also be worth while to note the fact -that his plays<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> and his poems, composed in this spot, were first set -down in pencil.</p> - -<p>The surroundings are delightful. On all sides the walls are filled with -book-cases reaching almost to the ceiling; the windows are hung with -heavy curtains decorated with Arabic designs; and in winter a fire of -soft coal burns in the large grate at one side of the apartment. The -books that glisten from the shelves are cased in bindings and covers of -the finest sort, made by the best artists of England and France. As to -their contents, the strength lies in a collection of old English drama -and poetry and a complete set of the Latin classics. It must be said -here, however, that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Boker’s books are by no means confined to the -library. The presence of books is visible all through the house, and -one can trace at various points the fact that the owner of these books -has always aimed to collect the best editions. In later days <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Boker -has, in a measure, been exiled from the companionship of the choicest -books in his study; because, in order to obtain uninterrupted quiet, -he has been obliged to retire to a small room on the floor above his -library, where he is more secure from disturbance.</p> - -<p>The dining-room is a noteworthy apartment, not only because many -distinguished persons have been entertained in it, but also because it -is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> beautifully finished with a ceiling and walls of black oak, framing -scarlet panels, that set off the buffets and side-cases full of silver -services. If any one fancies, however, that the appointments of the -dining-room and the library indicate a too Sybaritic taste, he should -ascend to the top floor of the house, where <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Boker had a workshop -containing a complete outfit for a turner in metals. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Boker always -had a taste for working at what he called his “trade” of producing -various articles in metal, on his turning-lathe. In younger days it -used to be his boast that he could go into the shop of any machinist, -take off his coat, and earn his living as a skilled workman. He still -practiced at the bench in his own workshop, at the age of sixty-five. -It seems to me that he was unique among American authors, in uniting -with the grace and fire of a genuine poet the diversions of a rich -society man, the functions of a public official, and a capacity for -practical work as a mechanic.</p> - -<p>We must bear in mind, also, that this skilled laborer, this man of -social leisure and amusement, and this poet, was also a man of intense -action in the time of the Civil War, when he organized the Union League -of Philadelphia, which consolidated loyal sentiment in the chief city -of Pennsylvania, at the time when that city was wavering. All the -Union Leagues of the country were patterned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> after this organization -in Philadelphia. Moreover, when <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Boker undertook and carried on -this work, his whole fortune was in danger of loss, from a maliciously -inspired law-suit. With the risk of complete financial ruin impending, -he devoted himself wholly to the cause of patriotism, and poured out -poem after poem that became the battle-cry of loyalists throughout the -North. His character and services won the friendship of General Grant; -and after the War, he was appointed United States Minister to Turkey; -from which post he was promoted to <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> Petersburg. The impression -he made at that capital was so deep that, when he was recalled, -Gortschakoff received his successor with these words: “I cannot say I -am glad to see you. In fact, I’m not sure that I see you at all, for -the tears that are in my eyes on account of the departure of our friend -Boker.” In both of these places he rendered important services. Among -the dramas which were the fruit of his youth, “Calaynos” and “Francesca -da Rimini” achieved a great success, both in England and in this -country. The revival of “Francesca da Rimini” at the hands of Lawrence -Barrett, and its run of two or three seasons, thirty years after its -production, is one of the most remarkable events in the history of the -American stage. Nor should it be forgotten that Daniel Webster valued -one of Boker’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> sonnets so much, that he kept it in memory to recite; -and that Leigh Hunt selected Boker as one of the best exponents of -mastery in the perfect sonnet.</p> - -<p>An early portrait of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Boker bears strong resemblance to Nathaniel -Hawthorne in his manly prime. But passing decades, while they did not -bend the tall, erect figure, whitened the thick, military-looking -moustache and short curling hair that contrasted strikingly with a -firm, ruddy complexion. His commanding presence and distinguished -appearance were as well known in Philadelphia as his sturdy personality -and polished manners were. For many years he continued to act as -President both of the Union League and of the old, aristocratic, yet -hospitable, Philadelphia Club. These two clubs, his home occupations -and his numerous social engagements occupied much of his leisure during -the winter; and his summers were usually spent at some fashionable -resort of the quieter order. How he contrived to find time for reading -and composition it is hard to guess; but his pencil was not altogether -idle even in his last years. When a man had so consistently held his -course and fixed his place as a poet, a dramatist, a brilliant member -of society, an active patriot and a diplomatist, it seems to me quite -worth our while to recognize that he did this under circumstances of -inherited wealth which usually lead to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> inertness. It is worth our -while to observe that a rich American devoted his life to literature, -and did so much to make us feel that he deserved to be one of the few -American authors who enjoyed a luxurious home.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">George Parsons Lathrop.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">JOHN BURROUGHS</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="JOHN_BURROUGHS">JOHN BURROUGHS<br><span class="small">AT ESOPUS ON THE HUDSON</span></h2></div> - - -<p>When the author of “Winter Sunshine” comes to town, it is over the -most perfectly graded track and through the finest scenery about New -York. Returning he is carried past Weehawken and the Palisades, through -the Jersey Meadows, in and out among the West Shore Highlands, under -West Point, and past Newburg factories and Marlborough berry farms. He -leaves the train at West Park, mounts a hill through a peach-orchard, -crosses a grassy field, and the high-road when he reaches the top, -opens a rustic gate, and is at home. From the road, you look down upon -the roofs and dormers and chimneys of the house, about half covered -with the red and purple foliage of the Virginia creeper. The ground -slopes quite steeply, so that the house is two stories high on the -side next the road and three on the side toward the river, which winds -away between high, wooded banks to the Catskills, twenty miles to the -north, and to the Highlands, thirty miles to the south. The slope, in -the rear of the house, to the river, is laid out in a grapery and an -orchard of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> apple and peach trees. Between the house and the road the -steep hillside is tufted with evergreens and other ornamental trees. -At the foot of the hill, the gray roofs of a big ice-house are seen. -Squirrels, that have their nests in the sawdust packing, clamber -around the walls. Near the house, to the left, there is a substantial -store-house, and a carriage-shed and stable. There are two other -dwellings on the farm. The country immediately about is all very much -alike, nearly half of it in ornamental plantations surrounding neat -country houses; the other half, where it is not occupied by rocks, -being covered with fruit, or corn, or grass. The opposite shore of the -Hudson is of the same character, varied with clumps of timber, villas -and farm-houses of the style that was in vogue before the introduction -of the so-called Queen Anne mode of building; a few cultivated -fields and many wild meadows and out-cropping ridges of slate rock -intervening. But the interior country, on the hither-side, back of -the railroad which cuts through the slate hills like a hay-knife, -is a perfect wilderness—rugged, barren, and uninhabited. A number -of little lakes lie behind the first range of hills, the highest of -which has been named by <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Burroughs Mount Hymettus, because it is a -famous place for wild bees and sumac honey. From one of these ponds, an -exemplary mountain stream—model<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> of all that a mountain stream should -be—makes its way by a series of cascades into the valley, where it -forms deep pools, peopled by silvery chub and black bass, brawls over -ledges, sparkles in the sun, and sleeps in the shadow, and performs -all the recognized and traditional brook “business” to perfection. Its -specialty is its bed of black stones and dark green moss, which has -gained it its name of Black Creek. At one spot, where it passes under a -high bank overhung by hemlocks, it has communicated its dark color to -the very frogs that jump into it, and to the dragonflies that rid it of -mosquitoes.</p> - -<p>The road between West Park and Esopus crosses this brook near a ruined -mill, whose charred rafters lie in the cellar, and whose wheel-buckets -are filled with corn-shucks. The ruby berries of the nightshade hang -in over its window-sills. This is the most varied two miles of road -that I can bring to mind. Starting with a fine view up and down the -river, it soon dips into the valley, between walls of slate and rows -of tall locusts. The locusts are succeeded by the firs and pines of -a carefully kept estate. Then comes the stream, spanned by a rustic -bridge; the ruined mill, and the new rise of ground which, beyond the -railroad, reaches up into summits covered with red oaks and flaming -orange maples. A tree by the roadside, now torn in two by a storm, is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> -pointed out by <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Burroughs as the former home of an old friend of -his—a brown owl who, in the course of a ten years’ acquaintanceship, -as if dreading the contempt that familiarity breeds, never showed an -entire and unhesitating confidence in him. The bird would slink out of -sight as he approached—slowly and by imperceptible degrees; wisely -effacing himself rather than that it should be said he was too intimate -with a mere human. Esopus contains a tavern, a post-office, a bank, -a blacksmith-shop, and one or two houses; and yet—like an awkward -contingency—one never suspects its existence until he has got fairly -into it. From the railroad station it is invisible; it cannot be seen -from the river; and the road, which runs through it, knows nothing of -it before or after.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Burroughs’s portrait must be drawn out of doors. He is of a medium -height, but being well-built and having a fine head, he gives the -impression of being by no means a middling sort of a man, physically. -His skin is well tanned by exposure to all sorts of weather. He has -grisly hair and beard. The eyes and mouth have a somewhat feminine -character; the eyes are humid, rather large, and they are half closed -when he is pleased; the lips are full, the line between them never -hard, and the corners of the mouth are blunt. The nose would be Roman, -if it were a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> trifle longer. I make no apology for giving so short a -description of a man whom it would be well worth while to paint. It is -unnecessary to sketch his mental features, for he has unconsciously -placed them on record, himself, in the delightful series of essays -which he has added to the treasures of the English language.</p> - -<p>His walks, his naturalistic rambles, his longer boating or shooting -excursions, are the subjects of some of his most entertaining chapters; -but a not impertinent curiosity may be gratified by some account of his -everyday life when at home and at work. His literary labors are at a -standstill throughout the summer. He does not take notes. Even when he -has returned from camping out, or canoeing, or from his summer vacation -of whatever form, he does not rush at once to pen and paper. He waits -till the spirit moves him, which it usually begins to do a little -after the first frosts. He rises early—between five and six o’clock; -breakfasts, reads the newspapers or employs himself about the house and -farm until nine or ten; then writes for three or four hours, seldom -more. He has always refused to do literary work to order, although he -has had some tempting offers. He will write only what he pleases, and -when he pleases, and so much as he pleases. And he observes no method -in preparing, any more than in doing, his work. He exacts<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> from himself -no account of his time. He does not feel himself bound in conscience -to improve every incident that has occurred, every observation he has -made during the year. He simply lets the material which he has absorbed -distill over into essays long or short, few or many, as providence -directs. He does not belong to the class of methodical laborers who -make a business of writing, and who would feel conscience-stricken if, -at the close of their working-day, they had not blackened a certain -number of sheets of white paper. But he acknowledges that good work is -done in that way, and he thinks it is all a matter of habit.</p> - -<p>His neighbors see to it that his leisure does not degenerate into -idleness. They have made a bank examiner of him, and a superintendent -of roads, and, latterly, a postmaster. The first-mentioned position is -the only one that has any emoluments attached to it; but, as he likes -to drive, he thinks it for his interest to see after the roads, and he -hopes, now that his post-office at West Farms is in working order, to -get his mails in good time.</p> - -<p>Most of his books—“Wake Robin,” “Birds and Poets,” “Winter Sunshine,” -etc.—were written in the library of his house, a small room, fitted -with book-shelves both glazed and open, and enjoying a splendid view -of the Hudson to and beyond<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> Poughkeepsie. But he has lately built -himself a study, several hundred yards from the house and more directly -overlooking the river. Here he has pretty complete immunity from noise -and from interruptions of all sorts. It is a little, square building, -the walls rough-cast within and faced with long strips of bark without. -Papers, magazines, books, photographs, lithographs lie scattered over -the table, the window-sills and the floor, and fill some shelves let -into a little recess in the wall. A student’s lamp on the table shows -that the owner sometimes reads here at night. His room-mates at present -are some wasps hatched out of a nest taken last winter and suspended to -the chimney. This primitive erection is further ornamented with a lot -of pictures of men and birds, the men mostly poets—Carlyle being the -only exception—and the birds all songsters. Two steps from the study -is a summer-house of hemlock branches, with gnarled vine-stocks twisted -in among them, where one may sit of an afternoon and read the New -York morning papers, or watch the boats or the trains on the opposite -bank, or the antics of a squirrel among the branches of the apple-tree -overhead, or the struggles of a honey-bee backing out of a flower of -yellow-rattle.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Burroughs has been his own architect; and I know many people who -might wish that he had been theirs too. He planned and superintended<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> -the erection of his house, which is a four-gabled structure, with a -porch in front and a broad balcony in the rear. Most of the timber for -the upper story is oak from his old Delaware County farm. The stone of -which the two lower stories are built was obtained on the spot, and is -a dark slate plentifully veined with quartz. Great pains were taken -in the building to turn the handsomest samples of quartz to the fore, -and to put them where they would do the most good, artistically. Over -the lintel of the door, for example, is a row of three fine specimens; -and a big chunk, with mosses lying between its crystals, protrudes -from the wall near the porch. The variety of color so obtained, with -the drab woodwork of the upper story and the red Virginia vine, keeps -the house, at all seasons, in harmony with its surroundings. It is no -less so within; for doors, wainscots, window-frames, joists, sills, -skirting-boards, floor and rafters are all of native woods, left of -their natural colors, and skillfully contrasted with one another; one -door being of Georgia pine with oak panels, another of chestnut and -curled maple, a third of butternut and cherry, and so on. Grayish, or -brownish, or russet wall-papers, and carpets to match, give the house -very much of the appearance of a nest, into the composition of which -nothing enters that is not of soft textures and low and harmonious -color.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Roger Riordan.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">GEORGE W. CABLE</p> - - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="GEORGE_W_CABLE">GEORGE W. CABLE<br><span class="small">AT NEW ORLEANS AND NORTHAMPTON</span></h2></div> - - -<p>Far up in the “garden district” of New Orleans stands a pretty cottage, -painted in soft tones of olive and red. A strip of lawn bordered with -flowers lies in front of it, and two immense orange trees, beautiful at -all seasons of the year, form an arch above the steps that lead up to -the piazza. Here <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable made his home for some years, and here were -written “The Grandissimes,” “Madame Delphine” and “<abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Sevier.” Those -who were fortunate enough to pass beyond its portals found the interior -cosy and tasteful, without any attempt at display. The study was a room -of many doors and windows with low bookcases lining the walls, and -adorned with pictures in oil and water-colors by G. H. Clements, and in -black and white by Joseph Pennell. The desk, around which hovered so -many memories of Bras-Coupé and Madame Delphine, and gentle Mary, was -a square, old-fashioned piece of furniture, severely plain, but very -roomy.</p> - -<p>Neither was comfort neglected; for a hammock swung in the study, in -which the author could rest,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> from time to time, from his labors. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Cable’s plan of work is unusually methodical, for his counting-room -training has stood him in good stead. All his notes and references are -carefully indexed and journaled, and so systematized that he can turn, -without a moment’s delay, to any authority he wishes to consult. In -this respect, as in many others, he has not, perhaps, his equal among -living authors. In making his notes, it is his usual custom to write -in pencil on scraps of paper. These notes are next put into shape, -still in pencil, and the third copy, intended for the press, is written -in ink on note-paper—the chirography exceedingly neat, delicate and -legible. He is always exact, and is untiring in his researches. The -charge of anachronism has several times been laid at his door; but this -is an accusation it would be difficult to prove. Before attempting to -write upon any historical point, he gathers together all available data -without reckoning time or trouble; and, under such conditions, nothing -is more unlikely than that he should be guilty of error. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable has -a great capacity for work, and his earlier stories were written under -the stress of unremitting toil. Later, when he was able to emerge from -business life and follow the profession of literature exclusively, he -continued his labors in the church, and never allowed any engagement -to interfere with his Sunday-school<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> and Bible-classes. In his books, -religion has the same place that it takes in a good man’s life. Nothing -is said or done for effect; neither is he ashamed to confess his faith -before the world.</p> - -<p>It is perhaps strange that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable should have the true artistic, as -well as the religious, temperament, since these two do not invariably -go hand in hand. Music, painting, and sculpture are full of charms for -him, and he is an intuitive judge of what is best in art. His knowledge -of music is far above the ordinary, and he has made a unique study of -the usually elusive and baffling strains of different song-birds. He -is such a many-sided man that he should never find a moment of the -day hanging heavily upon his hands. The study of botany was a source -of great pleasure to him, at one time; and he had, also, an aviary in -which he took a deep interest.</p> - -<p>Seemingly sedate, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable is full of fun; and charming as he is in -general society, a compliment may be paid him that cannot often be -spoken truthfully of men of genius—namely, that he appears to the best -advantage in his own home. His children are a merry little band of five -girls and one boy, each evincing, young as they are, some distinctive -talent. It is amusing to note their appreciation of ‘father’s fun,’ and -his playful speeches always give the signal for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> bursts of laughter. -This spirit of humor, so potent “to witch the heart out of things -evil,” is either hereditary or contagious, for all of these little -folks are ready of tongue. The friends whom <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable left behind him, -in New Orleans, remember with regretful pleasure the delightful little -receptions which have now become a thing of the past. Sometimes, at -these gatherings, he would sing an old Scotch ballad, in his clear, -sweet tenor voice, or one of those quaint Creole songs that he has -since made famous on the lecture platform; or, again, he would read -a selection from “Dukesborough Tales”—one of his favorite humorous -works. Nothing was stereotyped or conventional, for <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable is, in -every aspect of life, a dangerous enemy of the common-place. But the -pleasant dwelling-place has passed into other hands; other voices -echo through the rooms; and <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable has found a new home in a more -invigorating climate.</p> - -<p>The highway leading from the town of Northampton, <abbr title="Massachusetts">Mass.</abbr>, which one must -follow in order to find <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable’s house, has the aspect of a quiet -country road, but is, in reality, one of the streets of the city, with -underlying gas and water-pipes. It is studded with handsome dwellings, -some of brick and stone, others of simple frame-work—each with velvet -lawn shaded with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> spreading elms, and here and there a birch or pine. -The romancer’s house is the last at the edge of the town, on what -is fitly named the Paradise Road. It is a red brick building of two -stories and a half, with a vine-covered piazza; and the smooth-cut lawn -slopes gently down to the street, separated only from the sidewalk by -a stone coping. Above all things, one is conscious, on entering here, -of a sense of comfort and home happiness. The furniture is simple but -exceedingly tasteful, of light woods with little upholstery; and the -visitor finds an abundance of easy-chairs and settees of willow. The -study is a delightful nook, opening by sliding doors from the parlor on -one side and the hall on another. A handsome table of polished cherry, -usually strewn with books and papers, occupies the center of the room, -and, as in the old home, the walls are lined with book-shelves. A -large easy-chair, upon which the thoughtful wife insisted, when the -room was being fitted up, affords a welcome resting-place to the weary -author. Sometimes she lends her gentle presence to the spot, and sits -there, with her quiet needlework, while the story or lecture is in -the course of preparation. One of the charms of this sanctum is the -view from the two windows that extend nearly to the floor. From one -may be descried the blue and hazy line of the Hampshire hills, while -from the other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> one sees Mt. Holyoke and Mt. Tom uprearing their -stately heads to the sky. Sloping down from the carriage-drive which -passes it lies Paradise—a stretch of woods bordering Mill River. No -more appropriate name could be given it, for if magnificent trees, -beautiful flowers, green-clad hill and dell, and winding waters, and -above all, the perfect peace of nature, broken only by bird-notes, can -make a paradise, it is found in this corner of Northampton, itself -the loveliest of New England towns. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable confesses that this -scene of enchantment is almost too distracting to the mind, and that, -when deeply engaged in composition, he finds it necessary to draw the -curtains.</p> - -<p>If the days in <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable’s home are delightful, the evenings are not -less charming. After the merry tea and the constitutional walk have -been taken, the family gather in the sitting-room. Usually, two or -three friends drop in; but if none come, the children are happy to -draw closely around their father, while he plays old-time songs or -Creole dances on his guitar. As he sings, one after another joins in, -and finally the day is ended with a hymn and the evening worship. The -hour is early, for the hard-working brain must have its full portion of -rest. It is one of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable’s firm-rooted principles that the mind can -not do its best unless the body is well<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> treated; and he gives careful -attention to all rules of health. Apart from the brilliant fact of his -genius, this is the secret of the evenness of his work. There is no -feverish energy weakening into feverish lassitude; it moves on without -haste, without rest. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable well advised a young writer never to -publish anything but his best; and it is this principle, doubtless, -that has prevented him from thinking it necessary, as many English and -American authors seem to fancy, to turn out a certain amount of printed -matter every year. In addition to his literary labors, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable is -frequently absent from home on reading and lecture engagements, and -great is the rejoicing of his family when they have him once more -among them. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable’s place in literature is as unique as that of -Hawthorne. He is distinctively and above all things an American. He has -not found it necessary to cross the water in search of inspiration; and -he is the only American author of any prominence whose turn of mind has -never been influenced by the foreign classics.</p> - -<p>What Bret Harte has done for the stern angularity of Western life, -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable has wrought, in infinitely finer and subtler lines, for -his soft-featured and passionate native land. Those who come after -him in delineation of Creole character can only be followers in his -footsteps, for to him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> alone belongs the credit of striking this new -vein, so rich in promise and fulfillment. An alien coming among them -would be as one who speaks a different language. He would be impressed -only by superficial peculiarities, and would chronicle them from this -standpoint. But <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable knows these people to their heart’s core; he -is saturated with their individuality and traditions; to him their very -inflection of voice, turn of the head, motion of the hands, is eloquent -with meaning. His work will endure because it is entirely wholesome, -and full of that “sanity of mind” which speaks with such a strenuous -voice to the mass of mankind. The writer who appeals from a diseased -imagination to an audience full of diseased and morbid tastes, must -necessarily have a small <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">clientèle</i>; for there are comparatively -few people, as balanced against the vast hordes of workers, who are so -satiated with the good things of this life that they must always seek -for some new sensation strong enough to blister their jaded palates. -The men and women who labor and endure desire after their day of toil -something that will cheer and refresh; and this will remain so as long -as health predominates over disease.</p> - -<p>The engraving in <i>The Century</i> of February, 1882, has made the -reading public familiar with <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable’s features; but there is lacking -the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> lurking sparkle in the dark hazel eyes, and the curving of the -lips into a peculiarly winning smile. In person, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable is small and -slight, with chestnut hair, beard and moustache; and there is a marked -development of the forehead above the eyebrows, supposed, by believers -in phrenology, to indicate unusual musical talent. On paper, it is hard -to express the charm of his individuality, or the pleasure of listening -to his sunny talk, with its quaint turns of thought and the felicitous -phrases that spring spontaneously to his lips. Those who have been -impressed by the deep humanity that made it possible for him to write -such a book as “<abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Sevier,” will find the man and the author one and -indivisible. Nothing is forced, or uttered for the sake of making an -impression; and the listener may be sure that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable is saying what -he thinks. The conscientiousness that enabled him to be a brave soldier -and an untiring business man, runs through his whole life; and he has -none of that moral cowardice which staves off an expression of opinion -with a falsely pleasant word.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">J. K. Wetherill.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>[Eight years ago <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable left the house in Paradise Road for a -new Colonial house on “Dryad’s Green,” against a background of -pines,—“Tarryawhile,” with a cottage workshop of two rooms near -by.—<span class="smcap">Editors.</span>]</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">S. L. CLEMENS (MARK TWAIN)</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="S_L_CLEMENS_MARK_TWAIN">S. L. CLEMENS (MARK TWAIN)<br><span class="small">AT HARTFORD AND ELMIRA</span></h2></div> - - -<p>The story of Mark Twain’s life has been told so often that it has -lost its novelty to many readers, though its romance has the quality -of permanence. But people to-day are more interested in the author -than they are in the printer, the pilot, the miner, or the reporter, -of twenty or thirty years ago. The editor of one of the most popular -American magazines once alluded to him as “the most widely read -person who writes in the English language.” More than half a million -copies of his books have been sold in this country. England and the -English colonies all over the world have taken at least half as many -in addition. His sketches and shorter articles have been published -in every language which is printed, and the larger books have been -translated into German, French, Italian, Norwegian, Danish, etc. He -is one of the few living men with a truly world-wide reputation. -Unless the excellent gentlemen who have been engaged in revising the -Scriptures should claim the authorship of their work, there is no other -living writer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> whose books are now so widely read as Mark Twain’s; -and it may not be out of the way to add that in more than one pious -household the “Innocents Abroad” is laid beside the family Bible, and -referred to as a hand-book of Holy Land description and narrative.</p> - -<p>Off the platform and out of his books, Mark Twain is Samuel L. -Clemens—a man who was born November 30, 1835. He is of a very -noticeable personal appearance, with his slender figure, his finely -shaped head, his thick, curling, very gray hair, his heavy arched -eyebrows, over dark gray eyes, and his sharply, but delicately, cut -features. Nobody is going to mistake him for any one else, and his -attempts to conceal his identity at various times have been comical -failures. In 1871 <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Clemens made his home in Hartford, and in some -parts of the world Hartford to-day is best known because it is his -home. He built a large and unique house in Nook Farm, on Farmington -Avenue, about a mile and a quarter from the old centre of the city. It -was the fancy of its designer to show what could be done with bricks -in building, and what effect of variety could be got by changing their -color, or the color of the mortar, or the angle at which they were -set. The result has been that a good many of the later houses built in -Hartford reflect in one way or another the influence<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> of this one. In -their travels in Europe, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> and Mrs. Clemens have found various rich -antique pieces of household furniture, including a great wooden mantel -and chimney-piece, now in their library, taken from an English baronial -hall, and carved Venetian tables, bedsteads, and other pieces. These -add their peculiar charm to the interior of the house. The situation of -the building makes it very bright and cheerful. On the top floor is <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Clemens’s own working-room. In one corner is his writing-table, covered -usually with books, manuscripts, letters, and other literary litter; -and in the middle of the room stands the billiard-table, upon which a -large part of the work of the place is expended. By strict attention to -this business, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Clemens has become an expert in the game; and it is -part of his life in Hartford to get a number of friends together every -Friday for an evening of billiards. He even plans his necessary trips -away from home so as to get back in time to observe this established -custom.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Clemens divides his year into two parts, which are not exactly for -work and play respectively, but which differ very much in the nature of -their occupations. From the first of June to the middle of September, -the whole family, consisting of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> and Mrs. Clemens and their three -little girls, are at Elmira, N. Y. They live there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> with <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> T. W. -Crane, whose wife is a sister of Mrs. Clemens. A summer-house has been -built for <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Clemens within the Crane grounds, on a high peak, which -stands six hundred feet above the valley that lies spread out before -it. The house is built almost entirely of glass, and is modeled exactly -on the plan of a Mississippi steamboat’s pilot-house. Here, shut off -from all outside communication, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Clemens does the hard work of the -year, or rather the confining and engrossing work of writing, which -demands continuous application, day after day. The lofty work-room -is some distance from the house. He goes to it every morning about -half-past eight and stays there until called to dinner by the blowing -of a horn about five o’clock. He takes no lunch or noon meal of any -sort, and works without eating, while the rules are imperative not to -disturb him during this working period. His only recreation is his -cigar. He is an inveterate smoker, and smokes constantly while at his -work, and, indeed, all the time, from half-past eight in the morning to -half-past ten at night, stopping only when at his meals. A cigar lasts -him about forty minutes, now that he has reduced to an exact science -the art of reducing the weed to ashes. So he smokes from fifteen to -twenty cigars every day. Some time ago he was persuaded to stop the -practice, and actually went a year and more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> without tobacco; but he -found himself unable to carry along important work which he undertook, -and it was not until he resumed smoking that he could do it. Since then -his faith in his cigar has not wavered. Like other American smokers, -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Clemens is unceasing in his search for the really satisfactory -cigar at a really satisfactory price, and, first and last, has gathered -a good deal of experience in the pursuit. It is related that, having -entertained a party of gentlemen one winter evening in Hartford, he -gave to each, just before they left the house, one of a new sort of -cigar that he was trying to believe was the object of his search. He -made each guest light it before starting. The next morning he found all -that he had given away lying on the snow beside the pathway across his -lawn. Each smoker had been polite enough to smoke until he got out of -the house, but every one, on gaining his liberty, had yielded to the -instinct of self-preservation and tossed the cigar away, forgetting -that it would be found there by daylight. The testimony of the next -morning was overwhelming, and the verdict against the new brand was -accepted.</p> - -<p>At Elmira, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Clemens works hard. He puts together there whatever -may have been in his thoughts and recorded in his note-books during -the rest of the year. It is his time of completing work begun, and -of putting into definite shape<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> what have been suggestions and -possibilities. It is not his literary habit, however, to carry one -line of work through from beginning to end before taking up the next. -Instead of that, he has always a number of schemes and projects going -along at the same time, and he follows first one and then another, -according as his mood inclines him. Nor do his productions come before -the public always as soon as they are completed. He has been known -to keep a book on hand for five years, after it was finished. But -while the life at Elmira is in the main seclusive and systematically -industrious, that at Hartford, to which he returns in September, is -full of variety and entertainment. His time is then less restricted, -and he gives himself freely to the enjoyment of social life. He -entertains many friends, and his hospitable house, seldom without a -guest, is one of the literary centers of the city. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Howells is -a frequent visitor, as Bayard Taylor used to be. Cable, Aldrich, -Henry Irving, Stanley, and many others of wide reputation, have been -entertained there. The next house to <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Clemens’s on the south is -Charles Dudley Warner’s home, and the next on the east is Mrs. Stowe’s, -so that the most famous three writers in Hartford live within a stone’s -throw of each other.</p> - -<p>At Hartford <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Clemens’s hours of occupation are less systematized, -but he is no idler there.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> At some times he shuts himself in his -working-room and declines to be interrupted on any account, though -there are not wanting some among his expert billiard-playing friends -to insist that this seclusion is merely to practice uninterruptedly -while they are otherwise engaged. Certainly he is a skillful player. -He keeps a pair of horses, and rides more or less in his carriage, but -does not drive, or ride on horseback. He is, however, an adept upon -the bicycle. He has made its conquest a study, and has taken, and also -experienced, great pains with the work. On his bicycle he travels a -great deal, and he is also an indefatigable pedestrian, taking long -walks across country, frequently in the company of his friend the <abbr title="reverend">Rev.</abbr> -Joseph H. Twichell, at whose church (Congregational) he is a pew-holder -and regular attendant. For years past he has been an industrious and -extensive reader and student in the broad field of general culture. He -has a large library and a real familiarity with it, extending beyond -our own language into the literatures of Germany and France. He seems -to have been fully conscious of the obligations which the successful -opening of his literary career laid upon him, and to have lived up to -its opportunities by a conscientious and continuous course of reading -and study which supplements the large knowledge of human nature that -the vicissitudes of his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> early life brought with them. His resources -are not of the exhaustible sort. He is a member of (among other social -organizations) the Monday Evening Club of Hartford, that was founded -nearly twenty years ago by the <abbr title="reverend">Rev.</abbr> <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Bushnell, <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Henry, and <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> -J. Hammond Trumbull, and others, with a membership limited to twenty. -The club meets on alternate Monday evenings from October to May in -the houses of the members. One person reads a paper and the others -then discuss it; and <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Clemens’s talks there, as well as his daily -conversation among friends, amply demonstrate the spontaneity and -naturalness of his irrepressible humor.</p> - -<p>His inventions are not to be overlooked in any attempt to outline his -life and its activities. “Mark Twain’s Scrap-Book” must be pretty well -known by this time, for something like 100,000 copies of it have been -sold yearly for ten years or more. As he wanted a scrap-book, and could -not find what he wanted, he made one himself, which naturally proved to -be just what other people wanted. Similarly, he invented a note-book. -It is his habit to record at the moment they occur to him such scenes -and ideas as he wishes to preserve. All note-books that he could buy -had the vicious habit of opening at the wrong place and distracting -attention in that way. So, by a simple contrivance, he arranged one -that always opens at the right place; that is, of course, at the page<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> -last written upon. Other simple inventions by Mark Twain include a vest -which enables the wearer to dispense with suspenders; a shirt, with -collars and cuffs attached, which requires neither buttons nor studs; -a perpetual-calendar watch-charm, which gives the day of the week and -of the month; and a game whereby people may play historical dates and -events upon a board, somewhat after the manner of cribbage, being a -game whose office is twofold—to furnish the dates and events, and to -impress them permanently upon the memory.</p> - -<p>In 1885 Mark Twain and George W. Cable made a general tour of the -country, each giving readings from his own works: and they had crowded -houses and most cordial receptions. It was not a new sort of occupation -for Mark Twain. Back in the early days, before his first book appeared, -he delivered lectures in the Pacific States. His powers of elocution -are remarkable, and he has long been considered by his friends one of -the most satisfactory and enjoyable readers of their acquaintance. His -parlor-reading of Shakspeare and Browning is described as a masterly -performance. He has hitherto refused to undertake any general course of -public reading, though very strong inducements have been offered to him -to go to the distant English colonies, even as far as Australia.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Charles Hopkins Clark.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span></p> - -<p>[After the failure of the firm of Charles L. Webster & Co., of which -he was a member, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Clemens accomplished the Herculean task of -discharging debts not legally his, by a lecture tour in this country -and in Australia. On his return home, he was met in England by the -sad news of the sudden death of his eldest daughter. After four more -years in Europe, for the most part in Vienna, he came back to this -country. The Hartford home was left unoccupied, partly on account of -sad associations, and the family spent the winter in New York. They -then leased a house at Riverdale on the Hudson, from where they will -move to the new home at Tarrytown which <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Clemens has recently -bought.—<span class="smcap">Editors.</span>]</p> -<hr class="tb"> -<p class="center p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img002"> -<img src="images/002.jpg" class="w50" alt="Author portrait"> -</span></p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="GEORGE_WILLIAM_CURTIS">GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS<br><span class="small">AT WEST NEW BRIGHTON</span></h2></div> - - -<p>It is not noticed that the most determined fighters, both in battle and -on the field of public affairs, are often the gentlest, most peaceable -men in private converse and at home. The public was for a long time -accustomed to regard <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Curtis as a combatant; but many who know of -him in that character would have been surprised could they have met him -in the quiet study on Staten Island, where his work was done.</p> - -<p>A calm, solid figure, of fine height and impressive carriage, a -moderately ruddy complexion, with snowy side-whiskers, and gray -hair parted at the crown, gave him somewhat the appearance that we -conventionally ascribe to English country gentlemen. There was an air -of repose about the surroundings and the occupant of the room where he -worked. Over the door hung a mellowed and rarely excellent copy of the -Stratford portrait of Shakspeare; shelves filled with books—the dumb -yet resistless artillery of literature—were placed in all the spaces -between the three windows; and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> other books and pamphlets—the small -arms and equipments—covered a part of the ample table. A soft-coal -fire in the grate threw out intermittently its broad, genial flame, as -if inspired to illumination by the gaze of Emerson, or Daniel Webster, -or the presence of blind Homer, whose busts were in an opposite corner. -Altogether, the spot seemed very remote from all loud conflicts of -the time. There was none of that confusion, that tempestuous disarray -of newspapers, common in the workshops of editors. Yet an examination -of the new books and documents which lay before him would show that -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Curtis established here a sluice-way through which was drawn a -current of our chief literature and politics; and some of the lines -in his massive lower face indicated the resoluteness which underlay -his natural urbanity and kindness. Although his father came from -Massachusetts and he himself was born in Providence, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Curtis was -identified with New York. In 1839, at the age of fifteen, he moved -with his father to this city. Three years later he enlisted with the -Brook Farm enthusiasts, but in 1844 withdrew to Concord, as Hawthorne -had done. There, with his brother, he worked at farming, and continued -to study until 1846, when he came back to New York, still bent upon -preparing himself for a literary life, though he chose not to go to -college. He went, instead, to Europe, remaining there and in the East -for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> four years, six months of which he spent as a student at the -University of Berlin.</p> - -<p>Bringing home copious materials for the work, he wrote the “Nile Notes -of a Howadji,” which the Harpers promptly accepted and published -in 1851, the author being then twenty-seven. It is interesting to -observe that he never went through that period of struggle to which -most young writers must submit; a fact presaging the almost unbroken -success of his later career. His other two books of travel appeared -the next year, and at the same time he began to divide with Donald G. -Mitchell the writing of the “Easy Chair” in <i>Harper’s Monthly</i>, -which he afterward took wholly upon himself and continued until his -death. His connection with <i>Harper’s Weekly</i> began in 1857, and -for six years he supplied a series of papers entitled “The Lounger” -to that periodical. In 1863 he became its political editor. Meanwhile -he had published “The Potiphar Papers,” the one successful satire on -social New York since Irving’s “Salmagundi”; also “Prue and I,” and -“Trumps,” his only attempt at a novel. This, too, treats of New York -life. Finally he married, in 1856, and settled on Staten Island, where -he lived until he died in 1892, in a house only a few rods distant from -that in which he was married.</p> - -<p>Yet, New Yorker as he was by long association,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> residence and interest, -he had a close relationship with Massachusetts; partly through his -marriage into a Massachusetts family of note—the Shaws; partly, -perhaps, through the ties formed in those idyllic days at Brook Farm -and Concord. And in Massachusetts he had another home, at Ashfield, -to which he repaired every summer. It is an old farm-house on the -outskirts of the village, which lies among beautiful maple-clad -hills, between the Berkshire valley and the picturesque neighborhood -of the Deerfields and Northampton. A number of years ago, with his -friend Charles Eliot Norton, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Curtis aided in founding a library -for Ashfield, and he was so much of a favorite with his neighbors -there, that they were anxious to make him their representative in -Congress. He, however, seemed to prefer their friendship, and the -glorious colors of their autumn woods, to their votes. Throughout the -greater part of the fierce presidential campaign of 1884 <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Curtis -conducted his voluminous work as editor and as independent chieftain -in this quiet retreat. In 1875 it was to him that Concord turned when -seeking an orator for the centenary of her famous “Fight”; and it was -he again whom Boston, in the spring of 1883, invited to pronounce the -eulogy upon Wendell Phillips. These are rather striking instances of -Massachusetts dependence on a New York author and orator, discrepant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span> -from a theory which makes the dependence all the other way.</p> - -<p>But <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Curtis long since gained national reputation as a lecturer. -His first venture in that line was “Contemporary Art in Europe,” in -1851; then he fairly got under way with “The Age of Steam,” and soon -became one of that remarkable group, including Starr King, Phillips -and Beecher, who built up the lyceum into an important institution, -and went all over the country lecturing. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Curtis gave lectures -every winter until 1872. I remember his saying, some time before that, -“I have to write and deliver at least one sermon a year”; and indeed -they <em>were</em> sermons, of the most eloquent kind, rife with noble -incitements to duty, patriotism, lofty thought, ideal conduct. In -1859, at Philadelphia, having long before engaged to speak on “The -Present State of the Anti-Slavery Question,” he was told that it would -not be allowed. Many people entreated him not to attempt it; but, -while disclaiming any wish to create disturbance or to be martyred, -he stated that he found himself forced to represent the principle of -free speech, and that nothing could induce him to shrink from upholding -it. Accordingly he began his lecture from a platform guarded by double -rows of police. A tumult was raised in the hall, and a mob attacked -the building simultaneously from without, intending to seize<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> the -speaker and hang him. For twenty minutes he waited silently, while -vitriol-bottles and brick-bats were showered through the windows, and -the police fought the rioters in both hall and street. The disturbance -quelled, he went on for an hour, saying all that he had to say, amid -alternate hisses and applause, and with the added emphasis of missiles -from lingering rioters smashing the window glass. Is it surprising that -this man should have the courage to rise and shout out a solitary “No,” -against the hundreds of a State convention, or that he should have -dared to “bolt” the Presidential nomination of his party, in spite of -jeers and sneers and cries of treachery?</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Curtis’s adversaries, in whatever else they may have been right, -were apt to make two serious mistakes about him. One was, that -they considered him a dilettante in politics; the other, that they -overlooked his “staying-power.” For over thirty-four years he not only -closely studied and wrote upon our politics, but he also took an active -share in them.</p> - -<p>For twenty-five years he was the chairman of a local Republican -committee; he made campaign speeches; he sat in conventions; he -influenced thousands of votes. Moreover, his views triumphed. They did -so in the anti-slavery cause; they did so in the Civil Service Reform -movement, and in the Independent movement of 1884. Surely that is not -the record of a dilettante. He never<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> pulled wires, nor did he seek -office; that is all. Once he ran for Congress in a Democratic district, -sure of defeat, but wishing to have a better chance, as candidate, for -speech-making. He took the chairmanship of the Civil Service Advisory -Board as an imperative duty, and resigned it as soon as he saw its -futility under President Grant’s rule. Seward wanted to make him -Consul-General in Egypt; <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hayes offered him the mission to England, -and again that to Germany; but he refused each one. His only political -ambition was to instil sound principles, and to oppose practical -<em>patriotism</em> to “practical politics.” Honorary distinctions he -was willing to accept, in another field. He was an LL.D. of Harvard, -Brown and Madison universities; and in 1864 he was appointed a Regent -of the University of New York, in the line of succession to John Jay, -Chancellor Kent and Gulian Verplanck. This, it seems to me, was a -very fit association, for <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Curtis was attached by his qualities of -integrity and refinement to the best representatives of New York. The -idea often occurs to one, that he, more than any one else, continued -the example which Washington Irving set; an example of kindliness and -good-nature blended with indestructible dignity, and of a delicately -imaginative mind consecrating much of its energy to public service.</p> - -<p>A teacher of a true State policy, rather than a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> statesman—an -inspiring leader, more than he was an organizer or executant—he yet -did much hard work in organizing, and tried to perpetuate the desirable -tradition that culture should be joined to questions of right in -Government, and of the popular weal. Twenty years a lecturer, without -rest; twenty-five years a political editor; thirty-six years the suave -and genial occupant of the “Easy Chair”; always steadfast to the -highest aims, and ignoring unworthy slurs;—may we not say reasonably -that he had “staying power”? One source of it was to be found in the -serene cheer of his family life in that Staten Island cottage to which -he clung so closely, and among the well-loved Ashfield hills, where he -long continued to show that power.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">George Parsons Lathrop.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">DR. EDWARD EGGLESTON</p> - - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="DR_EDWARD_EGGLESTON">DR. EDWARD EGGLESTON<br><span class="small">AT LAKE GEORGE</span></h2></div> - - -<p>Owl’s Nest, the summer retreat of <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Edward Eggleston, is -picturesquely situated on Dunham’s Bay, an arm of Lake George that -deeply indents the land on the southeastern shore of the lake. This -site was chosen partly because the land hereabout is owned by his -son-in-law, and partly because of the seclusion the place affords -from the main current of summer business and travel. With the utmost -freedom of choice, a spot better suited to the needs of a literary -worker with a family could hardly have been selected within the -entire thirty-six miles covering the length of Lake George. Here, a -few years ago, among black rocks, green woods, and blue waters, all -pervaded by the breath of balsam, cedar, and pine, the author of “The -Hoosier Schoolmaster,” after various flights to other northern places -of resort, built the nest which he has since continued to occupy -during six months of the year (with the exception of one year spent -abroad), and in which he does the better part of his literary work, -with material about him prepared at his winter<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span> home in Brooklyn. -Owl’s Nest (doubtless jocosely so-called because of the utter absence -from it of everything owlish) consists of three architecturally unique -and tasteful buildings, occupying a natural prominence on the western -shore of the bay. One, the family cottage, is a handsome-looking and -commodious structure of wood, liberally furnished in a manner becoming -the artistic and literary proclivities of its occupants. A little -below this, to the right, and nearer the lake shore, is a summer -boarding-house, built by the owner of the farm for the accommodation -of the friends and admirers of <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Eggleston, who annually follow -his flight into the country—so impossible, as it would seem, is -it to escape the consequences of fame. The third and most striking -structure upon the grounds is <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Eggleston’s workshop and library—his -lasting and peculiar mark on the shores of Lake George, and the most -prominent and elaborate piece of work of its kind to be found anywhere -in northern New York. This was laid out by a Springfield, <abbr title="Massachusetts">Mass.</abbr>, -architect, after plans of the proprietor’s own. It is built of brown -sandstone quarried on the spot, and laid by local stone-workers, -finished in native chestnut and cherry by home mechanics, and decorated -without with designs, and within with carvings, by the hand of the -author’s artist-daughter, Allegra. Thus are secured for it at once a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> -sturdy native character of its own, and a sylvan harmony and grace -most pleasing to the fancy. Within this stronghold are arranged in -due order the weapons of the literary champion—historian, novelist, -and essayist—as well as the tools of his daughter, who has long -been working in conjunction with her father in the production of the -illustrated novel, “The Graysons,” given to the world in 1888.</p> - -<p>It is into this stronghold that one is conducted on a Sunday afternoon, -after the usual hearty hand-shake; especially if one’s visit relates in -any way to things literary, or to questions that are easiest settled -in an atmosphere of books. You are led through a door opening at the -rear of the building, toward the cottage; immediately opposite to -which, upon entering, appears the entrance to the artist’s studio; -thence along a narrow passage traversing the length of the west wall -and lined to the ceiling with books, through a doorway concealed by a -pair of heavy dropping curtains, and into the author’s study, occupying -the south end of the building. Here you are seated in a soft chair -beside a deep, red brick fireplace (adorned with andirons and other -appurtenances of ancient pattern, captured from some old colonial -mansion), and before a modern bay-window opening to the south.</p> - -<p>This window is, structurally, the chief glory and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> ornament of <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> -Eggleston’s study—broad, deep, and high, filling fully one-third of -the wall-space in the south end, and so letting into the room, as it -were, a good portion of all out-doors. From this window is obtained a -charming view of the finest points in the surrounding scenery. Directly -in front stretches out for miles to the southward a broad expanse of -marsh, through which winds in sinuous curves a sluggish creek that ends -its idling course where the line of blue water meets the rank green of -the swale. Just here extends from shore to shore a long causeway of -stone and timber, over which runs the highway through the neighborhood. -Flanking the morass on each side are two parallel lines of mountains, -looking blue and hazy and serene on a still day, but marvelously -savage and wild and threatening when a storm is raging. These are, -respectively, the French Mountain spur on the west; and on the east a -long chain of high peaks, which begins with the Sugar Loaf, three miles -inland, approaches the eastern shore, and forms with the grand peaks of -Black, Buck and Finch mountains a magnificent border to the lake as far -down as the Narrows, where it terminates in the bold and picturesque -rock of Tongue Mountain.</p> - -<p>This view constitutes almost the whole outlook from the spot, which -is otherwise encroached upon by an intricate tangle of untamed -nature—woods,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> cliffs and ravines, that back it up on the west, and -flank it on either side down to the water’s edge. Turning from the view -of things outside to consider the things within, you find yourself, -apart from the necessary furniture of the room, walled in by books, to -apparently interminable heights and lengths. I think <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Eggleston told -me he has here something like four thousand volumes, perhaps one-fourth -of which may be classed as general literature; the rest being volumes -old and new, of ever conceivable date, style and condition, bearing -upon the subject of colonial history. These have been gathered at -immense pains from the libraries and bookstalls of Europe and America. -In his special field of work <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Eggleston long ago proved himself a -profound student and a thorough and successful operator. But if books -tire you, there is at hand a most interesting collection of souvenirs -of foreign travel—pictures, casts, quaint manuscripts, etc.—besides -rare autographs, curios, and relics of every sort, gathered from -everywhere, all of which he shows you with every effort and desire to -entertain. In common with other distinguished persons, <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Eggleston -has undergone persecution by the inveterate collector of autographs. -One claimant for a specimen of his penmanship, writing from somewhere -in the Dominion, solicited a “few lines” to adorn his album withal; -whereupon he went to his desk<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> and, taking a blank sheet, drew with pen -and ink two parallel black lines across it, added his signature, and -mailed it promptly to the enclosed address.</p> - -<p>The work upon which <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Eggleston is engaged (“Life in the Thirteen -Colonies”) has already occupied him over six years, and he estimates -that it will be nearly six years more ere it is completed. Chapters -of it have been appearing from time to time, during its composition, -in <i>The Century</i> magazine; and the first completed volume is now -in the possession of The Century Co. for early publication. It is -distinctively a history of the people in their struggle for empire; -recording to the minutest details their public and domestic life and -affairs, treating exhaustively of their manners, customs, politics, -wars, religion, manufactures, and agriculture, showing in what they -failed and in what succeeded. All this is wrought out in a vivid -style, and possesses the interest and vigor of a romance. This has -been his chief work. Otherwise he has contributed to the periodicals -a large number of essays, short stories, etc., and has lately (by way -of recreation) prepared a youth’s history of the American settlements, -for school use. His working-hours are from eight in the morning till -two in the afternoon, during which time he sticks to his desk, where -he is to be found every day except Sunday, apparently<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> hopelessly -entangled in a thicket of notes and references, in manuscript and in -print, which besets him on all sides. But to the worker there, each -stack is a trusted tool on which he lays his hand unerringly when it -is wanted. He has perfected a system of note-making which reduces -the labor of reference to a minimum, while a type-writer performs -for him the mechanical part of the work. His afternoons are given to -socialities and recreation. His four little grandchildren come in for -a large share of his leisure time; and it is a good thing to see them -all rolling together on the study floor and making the place ring with -their merriment.</p> - -<p>I have seen in one of the older anthologies a poem entitled “The -Helper,” of which I remember these words:</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“There was a man, a prince among his kind,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he was called the Helper.”</span><br> -</p> - -<p>These verses, ever since I read them, have had a certain fascination -for me. There is that in them suggestive of the flavor of rare old -wine. There are helpers and helpers, from some types of which we pray -evermore to be delivered. But there are the true, the born helpers, -whom those in need of effectual advice and furtherance should as -heartily pray to fall into the way of. These last do not always appear -duly classified, labeled and shelved, to be taken down in answer to -all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> trivial and promiscuous complaints, since, as has been noted, the -true helper always proceeds, not by system, but by instinct, which -through practice becomes in him unerring, and sufficient to guide -him without stumbling. Such a helper is Edward Eggleston. He is a -philanthropist who exists chiefly for the sake of doing good to his -fellows, and who grows fat in doing it. It is a destiny from which he -can not escape, and would not if he could.</p> - -<p>One who observes much has often to deplore the absence from our modern -life and institutions of any sphere large enough for the exercise and -display of the full sum of the powers and faculties of any of our -recent or contemporary great men of the people. Compare one of our -most gifted men with the stage upon which he is compelled to act, -and the disproportion is startling. How much that is above price is -thus lost beyond recovery, and often how little we get from such -beyond the results of some special popular talent, perhaps itself not -representative of the strongest faculties of the person. I first got -acquainted with <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Eggleston through his novels “The Circuit Rider” -and “Roxy,” and being then in the novel-reading phase of intellectual -development, I of course believed them unrivaled in contemporary -literature, as they fairly are of their kind. My enthusiasm lasted till -I heard him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> preach from the pulpit, and straightway my admiration -for the writer was lost in astonishment at the preacher. Never had I -heard such sermons; and I still believe I never have. But upon closer -acquaintance, my astonishment at the preacher was swallowed up in -wonder at the conversational powers of my new friend. Never had I heard -such a talker—never have I heard such a one. But the best unveiling -was the last, when I discovered under all these multifarious aspects -the characteristics and attributes of a born philanthropist. Hitherto I -had known only the writer, the preacher, and the talker; now I began to -know the man.</p> - -<p>In Paris, London, Venice, Florence, in the remote towns and villages -of England and the Continent, wherever it has been the fortune of <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> -Eggleston to pitch his tent for a season, his domicile has everywhere -been known and frequented by those in need of spiritual or material -comfort; and few of such have ever had occasion to complain of failure -in getting their reasonable wants satisfied. In these dispensations -he has the warmest encouragement and support of Mrs. Eggleston and -their daughters, by whom these beautiful and humane traits are fully -shared. I once expressed my wonder as to how, amidst the severest -professional labors, he could stand so much of this extraneous work, -without detriment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> to his constitution. “What! do you call that -work?” was the characteristic answer. Fortunately a splendid physique -defeats the ill-effects that would seem inevitable. And indeed every -literary man should possess the nerves of a farmer and the physique -of a prize-fighter as a natural basis of success. <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Eggleston is a -good sailor and an expert climber, and with these accomplishments, and -a perpetually cheerful humor, he manages to keep his body in trim. He -can row you out to Joshua’s Rock, or to Caldwell, if that lies in your -way; or lead you with unerring precision through tangled labyrinths, -to visit the choice nooks and scenes of the neighborhood, such as the -lovely Paradise, the dark Inferno, and the mysterious Dark Brook.</p> - -<p>There is something broadly and deeply elemental in <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Eggleston’s -joyous appreciation of nature, his touching love of little children, -and his insight into the springs of animal life. His home habits -are simple and beautiful, abounding in all the Christian graces, -courtesies, and cordialities which help to maintain the ideal -household. Everybody knows something of his personal appearance, if -not by sight, then by report—the great bulk of frame, the large -leonine head, now slightly grizzled, the deep, sharp, kindly eyes, -the movements deliberate but not slow; and more, perhaps, of his -conversation—precise, rapid, multifarious,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span> swarming with ideas and -the suggestions of things which the rapidity of his utterance prevents -him from elaborating—original, opulent of forms, rich in quotation and -allusion. And then the laugh—vast, inspiriting, uplifting. But there -is such a thing as friendship becoming too friendly!</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">O. C. Auringer.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>[Nearly a third of <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Eggleston’s mature life has been covered by -the period since this article was written, and during this period his -most finished literary work has been produced. “The Faith Doctor,” -his last novel, was published in 1891; a few years later two school -readers for young children, “Stories of American Life and Adventure” -and “Stories of Great Americans for Little Americans” appeared. These -books the author estimates highly. In 1899 “The Beginners of a Nation” -was published, and in 1901 “The Transit of Civilization,”—the crowning -labor of his life and the outcome of historical researches which he -has been carrying on for twenty years. The year just past has been -devoted to the preparation of a new school history of the United -States. <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Eggleston’s health is unstable, and he may not continue -his writing, but he has in contemplation a volume relating to life in -the United States in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> the seventeenth century, and also a somewhat -autobiographical work, not so much concerning himself as phases of life -that he has seen.—<span class="smcap">Editors.</span>]</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">EDWARD EVERETT HALE</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="EDWARD_EVERETT_HALE">EDWARD EVERETT HALE<br><span class="small">ON ROXBURY HEIGHTS, BOSTON</span></h2></div> - - -<p>The pulpit of Boston—what a fellowship of goodly names the phrase -recalls! Knotty old stub-twist Cotton Mather,</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“With his wonderful inkhorn at his side”;</span><br> -</p> - -<p class="p0">saintly Ellery Channing; courtly Edward Everett; soaring Emerson; -sledge-hammer Beecher, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">père</i>; Parker, the New England -Luther; golden-mouthed Starr King; mystic, Oriental Weiss; Freeman -Clarke—steady old “Saint James”; Father Taylor, the Only; quaint, -erratic Bartol, the last of the Transcendentalists; impetuous Phillips -Brooks; and manly, practical Everett Hale. Can you measure the light -they have spread around—its range, its brilliancy? The Christian -pulpit of Boston has been a diadem of light to half the world. It -has been distinctively not an ecclesiastical, but a patriotic, -educational, and intellectual force. Yet, out of the whole cluster -of preacher-authors, one can strictly claim for literature only -our American Kingsley—Edward Everett Hale. It is not so much by -warrant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> of his studies in Spanish history that we class him among the -<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">literati</i>—although in some degree he has proved the successor of -Prescott in this field, and has lately prepared “The Story of Spain” -for Putnam’s Nations Series; but it is in virtue of his novels, his -help-stories for young folks, and his books of travel.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale’s home is in Roxbury (the “Highland” region), five-minutes’ -ride, by steam car, from the heart of Boston. “Rocksbury,” as it was -spelled in the old documents, is a rocky and craggy place, as its -name indicates. If you are curious to know where the rocks came from, -just turn to <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes’s “Dorchester Giant,” and read about that -plum-pudding, as big as the State House dome, which was demolished by -the giant’s wife and screaming boys:</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“They flung it over to Roxbury hills,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They flung it over the plain,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all over Milton and Dorchester too</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Great lumps of pudding the giants threw;</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They tumbled as thick as rain.”</span><br> -</p> - -<p>Speaking of rocks, there is still to be seen, hardly a stone’s-throw -beyond <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale’s residence, a natural Cyclopean wall—sheer, somber, -Dantesque, overgrown with wilding shrubs, the rocks cramped and locked -together in the joints and interspaces by the contorted roots of huge -black and scarlet oaks, which, directly they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> emerge from the almost -perpendicular cliff, turn and shoot straight up toward the zenith. On -the summit of these rocks is the Garrison residence, presented to the -anti-slavery agitator by his admirers, and now the home of his son, -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Francis J. Garrison. Other neighbors of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale are William Lloyd -Garrison, Jr., and the venerable Charles K. Dillaway, President of -the Boston Latin School Association, and master of the school fifty -years ago, when young Hale was conjugating his τύπτω τύφω on its old -teetering settees. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Dillaway bears his years well, and recently -celebrated his golden wedding. They have a well-combed and fruity -look, these old walled and terraced lawns and gardens of steep Roxbury -Height. In the Loring, the Hallowell, and the Auchmuty houses, and in -Shirley Hall, there yet remain traces of the slave-holding Puritan -aristocracy of two centuries ago. The Hale residence, by its old-time -hugeness and architectural style, seems as if it ought to be storied -in a double sense; but it really has no history other than that which -its present occupant is giving it. It is none too large for one who -has seen grow up in it a family of five sons and a daughter,—none too -large (if one may judge from the plethoric library) for its owner’s -ever-growing collection of books and manuscripts. The house, which is -of a cream color with salmon facings, is set back<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> from the street some -fifty feet, affording a small front lawn, divided from the sidewalk -by a row of trees. The second-story front windows are beneath the -roof of the great Doric porch, and between the pillars of this porch -clamber the five-leaved woodbine and the broad-leaved aristolochia, or -Dutchman’s pipe. It is characteristic of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale that he supports in -his Roxbury home an old, an almost decrepit man-servant, who has lived -with him for half a lifetime, and may be, for all I know, the original -of “My Double.” A picture of this “Old Retainer” was exhibited by <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Hale’s daughter this year in the Paris Salon, over the title of “A New -England Winter.” I may, perhaps, be pardoned for mentioning, in this -connection, that Mrs. Hale is, on the mother’s side, a Beecher—the -niece of Henry Ward Beecher—and inherits the moral enthusiasm of that -religious family.</p> - -<p>To return to <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale. As for his library, it may be said that, like -his own exterior, his thinking-shop is plain and little adorned. It -is his nacre shell lined with the fair pearl of his thought. The room -is just back of one of the large front drawing-rooms, and “gives” -upon a little <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">cul-de-sac</i> of a side-street. It is a small room, -and is crammed with plain bookshelves and cases of drawers. In this -room most of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale’s writing is done. He has a good collection of -books<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> and maps relating to Spanish-American subjects. Among these is a -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fac-simile</i> of Cortez’s autograph map of Lower California, made -for <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale by order of the Spanish Government from the original copy -preserved in the national archives.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale being, by his own frequent confessions, the most terribly -be-bored man in the universe, and having always had a hankering after -Sybaritic islands where map-peddlers, book agents, and pious beggars -might never mark his flight to do him wrong, it seemed providential, -in a twofold sense, that a wealthy friend in Roger Williams’s city, -the writer of a work on the labor question, should have carried out -the brilliant idea of building the hard-worked author a summer retreat -in the soft sea-air of Rhode Island. For the dreary romance of the -Newport region—its vast, warm, obliterating Gulf Stream fogs, and the -crusty lichens that riot and wax fat in the moisty strength thereof, -the warm tints of rock and sky, naiad caves and tangled wrack and -shell, and reveries by fire of flotage wood—you must peep into Colonel -Higginson’s “Oldport Days” or <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale’s “Christmas in Narragansett.” -The latter book is full of charming description and autobiographical -chit-chat. Manuntuck, where for twelve years the Hales have summered, -is a little hamlet to the south of Newport and far down on the opposite -side of the bay. It is six<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span> or eight miles from anywhere; it is almost -at the jumping-off point; if the organizer of charities gets there, he -will either have to walk or hire a team. The real southern limit of -New England, according to <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale, is formed by a certain “long comb -of little hills, of which the ends are gray stones separate from each -other.” On a high ridge of these hills is Colonel Ingham’s cottage. -In front of the house is the geological beach, about a mile and a -half wide. In good weather Montauk Point—the end of Long Island—is -visible, as is also Gay’s Head on Martha’s Vineyard. Just back of the -house is a lovely lake, and further back are other lakes bordered -by swamps filled with pink and white rhododendrons, and many plants -interesting to botanists. It is the region dwelt in of old by the -Narragansett Indians. The swamp where in 1675 the great battle was -fought is not far away. The Indians called the region Pettaquamscut.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale is not reserved about himself in his books. But in his -fictitious writings you must beware of taking him too literally. He -hates to wear his heart upon his sleeve. When you imagine that at -last he is standing before you <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">in propriâ personâ</i>—whish! he -claps on his magic cap, with a thimbleful of fern-seed sewed in it, -and fades from your sight or recognition. He has recently told us of -his habits of work, and how he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> sleeps and eats. What he says goes -far toward explaining how he can throw off such amazing quantities of -work. A man who eats five times a day, sleeps nine hours (including, -with tolerable regularity, an hour after dinner), and takes plenty -of out-door exercise, can perform as much as half a dozen dyspeptic, -half-starved night-moths. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale, it seems, does his writing and -thinking in the lump, working his way regularly by a dead lift of three -hours a day—inclusive, often, of a half or a full hour’s bout before -breakfast—the early work based upon a <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Frühstück</i> of coffee and -biscuit. Another secret of his power to produce work is his habit -of getting others, especially young people, to work for him. For at -least thirteen years he has employed an amanuensis for a part of his -writings. If he wishes to edit, in compact shape, certain hearty and -relishing old narratives, he sets his young friends to reading for him, -and by their joint labors the work is done. His “Family Flight” series -of travels (which we are given to understand has been quite successful) -is the joint work of himself and his traveled sister. In short, he -takes all the help he can get, printed or personal, for whatever -writing he has on hand. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale takes his exercise chiefly by walking, -or in the horse-cars, as business or professional duty calls him hither -and thither. As a hunger-producer the average suburban horse-car<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> line -of Boston is scarcely excelled by a corduroy road or a mud avenue of -New Orleans; and the bracing sea-air of the Boston Highlands adds its -whet and stimulant.</p> - -<p>When a young man of eighteen, Hale had the same fluent speech, the -same gift of telling, impromptu oratory, that makes him to-day so much -sought after as the spokesman of this cause and that. He likes to be -at a meeting of the Massachusetts Historical Society, or the Oriental -Society at Worcester, but finds it not profitable or possible regularly -to attend clubs or ministers’ meetings. Like the two earthenware pots -floating down the stream of Æsop’s fable, there are in <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale’s -nature two clashing master-traits—the social, humanitarian, and -democratic instinct, and the dignified reserve and exclusiveness of the -Edward Everett strain in his blood. He is a tremendous social magnet -turning now its attracting and now its repelling pole to the world; -to-day bringing comfort and hope to a score of drowning wretches, and -to-morrow barricading himself in his study and sending off to the -printer passionate and humorous invectives against the ineffable brood -of the world’s bores. It is naturally, therefore, a rather formidable -matter for a stranger to get access to the penetralia of the Roxbury -mansion.</p> - -<p>A certain lady friend of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale’s was much<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> disturbed by the above -statement when it first appeared in <i>The Critic</i>. She affirms that -the Doctor is a very approachable man. The following quotation from a -letter of her niece (who, out of friendship for <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale, gives part -of her time to helping him in his work) certainly seems irrefutable -testimony in her favor:—“I was at <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale’s to-day from eleven to -one o’clock. He receives an immense number of letters on all sorts of -subjects, particularly charity undertakings, and we register them for -him (I with three other girls) in a blank-book, so that he can refer -to them at any time. He is very methodical; he is, indeed, a wonderful -man, and you can realize the vast amount of work he does, by sitting -an hour in the room with him and hearing ring after ring at the front -door. One man wants a place as coachman; then comes a woman wishing -a letter of introduction; and I could fill a page with the different -requests, all listened to with so much patience, and immediately -attended to.” Yet I know of a man who called five times in the vain -endeavor to see <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale and get him to marry him. At last, in his -despair, he went to a friend of the “Colonel’s,” a lady who bravely -volunteered to storm the castle in the prospective bridegroom’s behalf. -She effected her object by calling with the couple at six o’clock in -the morning,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> yet felt sure she got a masterly beshrewing for her pains!</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale’s plain dressing is said to be something of a grievance -to certain well-meaning members of his congregation, but it is an -indispensable part of his personality, and is, I doubt not, adopted -for moral example as much as from inherent dislike of show and sham. -I have a picture in my mind now of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale as I saw him crossing the -Harvard College yard, one Commencement Day, in a by-no-means glossy -suit of black, and wearing the inevitable soft slouch hat. A work-worn, -weary, and stooping figure it was, the body slightly bent, as if from -supporting such a weight of head. There are certain photographs of Hale -in which I see the powerful profile of Huntington, the builder of the -Central Pacific Railroad.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale believes in the American people most heartily, and holds -them to have been always in advance of their political leaders. He -is full of plans for social betterments and the discomfiture of the -devil’s regiments of the line. In fact he has too much of this kind -of flax on his distaff for his own good. One of his hobbies being -cheap and good literature for the people, he is thoroughly in sympathy -with the Chautauqua system of popular instruction. He delivered an -address at the Framingham meeting not very long ago,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span> and is one of the -Counselors of the Literary and Scientific Circle. His idea of popular -instruction is in some respects fully realized in this great Chautauqua -organization, with its grove and Hall of Philosophy, its Assembly, -its annual reunions, and central and local reading-circles affording -to each of its thousands of readers the college-student’s general -outlook upon the world. Speaking of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hale’s democratic sympathies, -it is worthy of record here that when Walt Whitman published his first -quarto, and the press in general was howling with derision over that -remarkable trumpet-blast, Edward Everett Hale discovered the stamp -of genius and manly power in it, and reviewed it favorably in <i>The -North American Review</i>. (It must be remembered that the first quarto -of Whitman did not include the poems on sex. These were of later -production.) It is characteristic of him that he has said that although -he has not seen that notice since its appearance in the <i>Review</i> -in 1856, he thinks he would nevertheless stand by every word of it -to-day.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">W. S. Kennedy.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>[Within a year or two <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Hale has resigned his duties of -pastor to Prof. Edward Cummings of Harvard University, and is -free to enjoy the life of busy leisure which he has so richly -earned.—<span class="smcap">Editors.</span>]</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS (UNCLE REMUS)</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="JOEL_CHANDLER_HARRIS_UNCLE_REMUS">JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS (UNCLE REMUS)<br><span class="small">AT ATLANTA</span></h2></div> - - -<p>Joel Chandler Harris is at home in a neat cottage of the familiar -Southern type, which nestles near the bosom of a grove of sweet gum -and pine trees in the little village of West Point, about three miles -from the heart of the “Southern Chicago,” as Georgians delight to call -Atlanta. In the grove a mocking-bird family sings. Around the house are -a few acres of ground, which are carefully cultivated. In one corner -graze a group of beautiful Minerva-eyed Jerseys. At one side of the -house hives of bees are placed near a flower garden sloping down to the -street, which passes in front of the house several rods distant. At the -foot of the road is a bubbling mineral spring, whose sparkling water -supplies the needs of the household. A superb English mastiff eyes with -dignified glance the casual visitor whose coming is apt to be announced -by the bark of two of the finest dogs in the country, one a bulldog, -the other a white English bull-terrier. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> neighbors are -few, but one who is his closest friend calls for mention. It is <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Evan P. Howell, whose manor is across the way. He is a member of a -distinguished Georgia family, whose name is known at the North through -Howell Cobb, a former Secretary of the Treasury. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Howell himself has -become known to the general public as having declined the Manchester -Consulate to retain his present position as chief editor and owner -of the Atlanta <i>Constitution</i>, in whose pages, by <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Howell’s -persuasion, Uncle Remus made his first appearance. The interior of the -cottage is simple and unassuming. Bric-à-brac and trumpery “articles -of bigotry and virtue” are absent. The places they generally occupy -are taken up with wide windows and generous hearths. Of literary -litter there is none. There are few books, but they have been read and -re-read, and they are the best of books. The house is not a library, -a museum, nor an art-gallery, but it is evidently a home in which -children take the place of inanimate objects of devotion.</p> - -<p>It is natural that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris’s home should be simple, and call -for little elaborate description. He was born and brought up among -simple, sincere people, whose wants were few, whose tastes were -easily satisfied, whose lives were natural and untainted by any such -influences as make for cerebral hyperæmia, or other neurasthenic -complaints<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> incidental, as <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Hammond says, to modern city life. The -village of Eatonton, in Middle Georgia, was <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris’s birth-place. -Since <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Henry Watterson, in his book on Southern humor, and other -writers, have made <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris an older man than he really is, it is -well to state, as “official,” that he was born on the 9th of December, -1848. Eatonton is a small town now, but it was smaller then. It was -surrounded by plantations, and on one of these <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris spent his -earliest years as other Southern children do. At six he began to read. -Among the first of his literary acquaintances was the delightful “Vicar -of Wakefield.” The boy’s schooling was such as reading the best of -the authors of the periods of Queen Anne and the Georges, and a few -terms at the Eatonton Academy, could give. He read his text-books, -but was bitterly opposed to getting them by heart. When he was about -twelve years old an incident occurred which shaped his whole life. -The Eatonton postmaster kept a sort of general store—the “country -store” of New England,—and its frequenters were at liberty to read the -copies of the Milledgeville and other rural papers which were taken by -subscribers. In one of these, <i>The Countryman</i>, young Harris found -that it was edited by a <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Turner, whose acquaintance he had made not -very long before, and he thrilled with the thought that he knew a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> real -editor. Finding that a boy was wanted he wrote for the place, secured -it, and soon learned all that was to be gathered in so small an office. -In addition to this acquirement of knowledge, by the permission of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Turner, he had access to a library of three thousand volumes, which he -read under the judicious guidance of their owner. Among these books he -lived for several years in the very heart of the agricultural region, -and he pondered over his reading to the music of the clicking types, -with the scamper of the cat-squirrels over the roof and the patter of -the acorns dropped by the jay-birds. For amusement he hunted rabbits -with a pack of half-bred harriers, or listened to the tales of the -plantation Negro, who was there to be found in primitive perfection of -type. It was on the Turner plantation that the original Uncle Remus -told his stories to the little boy. So it was that he absorbed the -wonderfully complete stores of knowledge of the Negro which have since -given him fame. He heard the Negro’s stories and enjoyed them, observed -his characteristics and appreciated them. Time went on. The printer boy -set type, read books, hunted rabbits, ’possums, and foxes, was seized -with an ambition to write, and had begun to do so when Sherman’s army -went marching through Georgia. Slocum’s corps was reviewed by Harris -sitting astride a fence. This parade left<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> the neighborhood in chaos, -and young Harris and <i>The Countryman</i> took a long vacation. At -last peace and quiet and the issue of <i>The Countryman</i> were -restored. But the paper had had its day.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris was now a full-fledged compositor, and he set his “string” -of the Macon Daily <i>Telegraph</i> for some months. Then he left to -go to New Orleans as the private secretary of the editor of <i>The -Crescent Monthly</i>. This position was not arduous, and <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris -found time to write bright paragraphs for the city press at about -the same time that George W. Cable was trying his hand at the same -kind of work. <i>The Crescent Monthly</i> soon waned, and with its -end <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris found himself back in Georgia as editor of the Forsyth -<i>Advertiser</i>, which was and is one of the most influential weekly -papers in Georgia. He was not only editor, but he set most of the type, -worked off the edition on a hand-press, and wrapped and directed his -papers for the mail. His editorials here, directed against certain -abuses in the State, were widely copied for their pungent criticism -and bubbling humor. They attracted the attention of Colonel W. T. -Thompson, author of “Major Jones’s Courtship,” who was then editor -of the Savannah <i>Daily News</i>, and he offered <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris a place -on his staff. It was accepted. This was in 1871. In 1873 <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris -was married. He remained in Savannah until September,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> 1876, when -the yellow-fever epidemic caused him to go up in the mountains to -Atlanta, where he became an editor of the <i>Constitution</i>. At that -time the paper was beginning to make a more than local reputation by -the humorous Negro dialect sketches by <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> S. W. Small, under the -name of “Old Si.” Shortly after <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris’s arrival <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Small left -the <i>Constitution</i> to engage in another enterprise, and the -proprietors, in their anxiety to replace one of the most attractive -features of their paper, turned to <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris for aid. He was required -to furnish two or three sketches a week. He took an old Negro with whom -he had been familiar on the Turner place, and made him chief spokesman -in several character sketches. Their basis was the projection of the -old-time Negro against the new condition of things brought about by the -War.</p> - -<p>These succeeded well; but tiring of them after awhile, he wrote one -night the first sketch as it appears in the published volume, “Uncle -Remus.” To the North this was a revelation of an unknown life. The -slight but strong frame in which the old Negro’s portrait was set, -the playful propinquity of smiles and tears, and the fresh humor and -absolute novelty of the folk-lore tale existing as a hidden treasure -in the South, were revealed for the first time to critical admiration. -The sketches were widely copied in leading<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> journals, like the staid -<i>Evening Post</i> of New York. Both the <i>Constitution</i> and -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris soon found that they had a national reputation. When the -volume containing the collected sketches was published, it was an -immediate success. It was soon reprinted in England; and still sells -steadily in large numbers, giving exquisite pleasure to thousands of -children and their elders. A second collection of tales, most of which -were published in <i>The Century</i>, but some of which made their -first appearance in <i>The Critic</i>, was republished in 1883, and -in that year <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris was introduced anew to the general public as -the writer of a sketch in Harper’s <i>Christmas</i>, which showed for -the first time that the firm and artistic hand which drew the Negro -to perfection had mastered equally well the most difficult art of -elaborate character-drawing and of dramatic development. “Mingo,” the -first successful short story of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris, was followed by “At Teague -Poteet’s” in <i>The Century</i>.</p> - -<p>I have dwelt somewhat at length on the incidents of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris’s -career for three reasons: first, because the facts have never before -been printed; second, because they illustrate in a remarkable way -the influence of environment on a literary intellect, whose steady, -healthy, progressive growth and development can be clearly traced; -and third, because it is evident that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> Harris is a young man who -has passed over the plains of apprenticeship and is mounting the hill -of purely literary fame, whose acclivity he has overcome by making -a further exertion of the strength and power which he has indicated -though not fully displayed. At present he lives two lives. One is that -of his profession. His duties are arduous, and consume much of his -time. Much of the best work in the <i>Constitution</i>, which has given -that paper fame as a representative of “the new South,” is due to <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Harris. In the history of Southern journalism he will occupy a high -place for having introduced in that part of the United States personal -amenities and freedom from sectional tone. He has discussed national -topics broadly and sincerely, in a style which is effective in “molding -public opinion,” but which is not literature. His second life begins -where the other ends. It is literally divided as day is from night, for -his editorial work is done at the <i>Constitution</i> office in the -day-time, and his literary work is done at home at night. On the one -side he works for bread and butter, on the other he works for art, and -from the motive that always exists in the best literary art. At home -he is hardest at work when apparently most indolent, and he allows his -characters to gallop around in his brain and develop long before he -touches pen to paper. When he reaches this stage his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> work is slow and -careful, and in marked contrast to his editorial work, which is dashed -off at white heat, as such work must be.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the best illustration I can give of his methods is to describe -the genesis of “At Teague Poteet’s,” which may also be interesting as -giving an insight into the work of creative authorship. The trial of -two United States Deputy-Marshals for the killing of an under-witted, -weak, unarmed, and inoffensive old man, who was guilty only of the -crime of having a private still for “moonshine”—not a member of the -mountain band,—was progressing in Atlanta when the subject of simple -proper names as titles of stories came up in the <i>Constitution</i> -office. One of the staff cited Scott’s “Ivanhoe,” Thackeray’s -“Pendennis,” and Dickens’s “David Copperfield” as instances of books -which were likely to attract readers by their titles, and taking up -a Georgia state-directory, the speaker’s eye fell on the name Teague -Poteet. He suggested to <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris that if he merely took that name and -wove around it the story of the moonshiner’s trial, it would attract -as many readers as Uncle Remus; and it was further suggested that -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris should make a column sketch of the subject for the next -Sunday’s <i>Constitution</i>. From this simple beginning Teague Poteet -grew after several months’ incubation, and when it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> was published in -<i>The Century</i> it will be remembered how the public hailed it as -disclosing a new phase of American life, similar to those revealed by -Cable, Craddock and the rest of the new generation. No one unfamiliar -with the people can fully appreciate how truthful and exact is the -description of characteristics; or how accurately the half-humorous, -half-melancholy features of the stern drama of life in the locality are -wrought out, yielding promise of greater things to come.</p> - -<p>In person <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris has few peculiarities. In stature he is of the -average height of the people of his section, rather under the average -height of the people of the Eastern and Middle States. The Northern -papers have spoken of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Cable as a little man. He and <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harris are -about of a size, which is not much excelled in their section except by -the lank giants of the mountains. His features are small. His face is -tanned and freckled. His mouth is covered by a stubbly red mustache, -and his eyes are small and blue. Both his eyes and mouth are extremely -mobile, sensitive and expressive. There is probably no living man more -truly diffident; but his diffidence is the result of excessive sympathy -and tenderness, which cause the bright blue eyes to well up at any bit -of pathos just as they fairly sparkle with humor. His amusements and -tastes are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> few and simple. His constant companions are Shakspeare, -Job, <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> Paul, and Ecclesiastes. He is devoted to his family, which -consists of his mother, his wife, four exceedingly bright boys and a -girl, and the flock of mocking-birds that winters in his garden. He -never goes into society or to the theatre. He once acted as dramatic -critic of the <i>Constitution</i>, but his misery at being obliged to -see and criticise dull actors was so acute that he soon resigned the -position. The small-talk of society has no attractions for him. His -home is enough. When his children are tired and sleepy and are put to -bed, he writes at the fireside where they have been sitting. It is -warm in winter, and cool in summer, and never lonely; and so strong is -his domestic instinct that although he had a room built specially as a -study, he soon deserted its lonely cheerlessness for the comforts of -his home, where his tender and kindly nature makes him loved by every -one.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Erastus Brainerd.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span></p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">PROF. J. A. HARRISON</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PROF_J_A_HARRISON">PROF. J. A. HARRISON<br><span class="small">AT LEXINGTON, VA.</span></h2></div> - - -<p>Professor Harrison’s home is in Lexington, a quaint old town in -the “Valley of Virginia.” Situated on North River, an affluent of -the James, Lexington is surrounded by mountains covered with a -native growth of beautiful foliage. In the distance tower aloft the -picturesque Peaks of Otter; nearer by is seen the unique Natural -Bridge. For nearly a century it has been a university town. Two -institutions of learning have generated about the place an intellectual -atmosphere. More than one literary character has made it a home. It -is, indeed, an ideal spot for the studious scholar and the diligent -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">littérateur</i>.</p> - -<p>James Albert Harrison was born at Pass Christian, Mississippi, the -latter part of 1848. His first lessons were given by private tutors. -Later, his family moved to New Orleans and he entered the public -schools of that city. From the public schools he went to the High -School, at the head of his class. But shortly afterwards, in 1862, New -Orleans fell and his family went into exile. They wandered about the -Confederacy some time,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span> from pillar to post, till finally they stuck in -Georgia till the close of the War. This fortunate event kept him from -becoming a midshipman on the <i>Patrick Henry</i>. Finally the family -returned to New Orleans. Deprived of regular instruction he had been -giving himself up to voracious, but very miscellaneous, reading; but -now, under a learned German Jew, he began to prepare himself for the -University of Virginia, where he remained two years—until, he says, -“I had to go to work.” After teaching a year near Baltimore he went -to Europe, and studied two years at Bonn and Munich. On his return, -in 1871, he was elected to the chair of Latin and Modern Languages in -Randolph Macon College, Virginia. In 1875 he was called to the chair of -English and Modern Languages in Vanderbilt University; but he remained -where he was till the next year. Then he accepted the corresponding -chair in Washington and Lee University, which he has held ever since. -There, in September, 1885, the happiest event of his life took place. -He was married to a daughter of Virginia’s famous “War Governor,” -Governor Letcher.</p> - -<p>Prof. Harrison comes of a literary family. His father, who was a -leading citizen of New Orleans, and quite wealthy till some time after -the War, belonged to the Harrison family of Virginia. His mother was a -descendant of the Mayor of Bristol<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> in Charles II.’s time, as is shown -by a family diary begun in 1603 and continued to the present day. On -this side, too, he is related to John Hookham Frere, the translator of -Aristophanes. Others of his literary kinsfolk are Miss F. C. Baylor, -author of “On Both Sides” and “Behind the Blue Ridge,” and Mrs. -Tiernan, author of “Homoselle,” “Suzette,” etc. In Prof. Harrison’s -library there are about 3000 volumes, in 15 or 20 different languages, -while here and there through the house are scattered bric-à-brac, -pictures, and a heterogeneous collections of odds and ends picked up in -travel—feather-pictures and banded agates from Mexico, embroideries -and pipes from Constantinople, souvenirs from Alaska, British America, -Norway, Germany, France, Spain, Italy and Greece. His naturally good -taste in art and music has been well cultivated. His conversation is -delightful—now racy with anecdote, now bristling with repartee, again -charming with instruction. More than any other man, I think, he is a -harbinger of better things at the South. He is a real son of the new -South. In him the old and the new are harmoniously blended. To the -polish, the suavity, the refinement of the old South are added the -earnestness, the enthusiasm, the wider and more useful culture of the -new. Up to this time his life has been spent in study, in travel, in -teaching, and in writing.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p> - -<p>In teaching and in scholarly work Professor Harrison has been unusually -active. Since 1871 he has taught nine months of every year; and almost -every year has seen from his pen some piece of scholarly work in the -domain of English, French or German literature and philology. Heine’s -“Reisebilder,” “French Syntax,” “Negro English,” “Creole Patois,” -“Teutonic Life in Beowulf,” ten lectures on “Anglo-Saxon Poetry” before -Johns Hopkins University—these, with several other publications, bear -witness to his industry and his scholarship. But his chief claim to -regard in this department of literature is in originating the “Library -of Anglo-Saxon Poetry,” and in his work on the “Handy Anglo-Saxon -Dictionary.” The first volume of the Library, that on Beowulf, at -once took the first place with English and American scholars, and -was adopted as a text-book in Oxford and other universities. In the -lecture-room Professor Harrison is pleasant, genial, helpful and alert. -His students like him as a man, and take pride in showing his name on -their diplomas. He had not been teaching two years before he convinced -every one that only thorough scholarship could win that signature.</p> - -<p>At a very early age Professor Harrison began to write doggerel for -the New Orleans <i>Picayune</i> and <i>Times</i>. While a student at -the University of Virginia he wrote an article for the Baltimore<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> -<i>Episcopal Methodist</i> called “Notre Dame de Paris,” which -attracted much attention. His next piece of literary work was a paper -on Björnstjerne Björnson, which won the $50 gold medal given by <i>The -University Magazine</i>. As he was not a matriculate at the time, -the prize could not be awarded. In 1871 his “first literary effort,” -as he calls it, appeared in <i>Lippincott’s Magazine</i>. It was -entitled “Goethe and the Scenery about Baden-Baden.” Then essay after -essay followed in quick succession from his pen. Soon after this his -connection with <i>The Southern Magazine</i> began, which resulted in -a series of essays on French, German, English, Swedish, and Italian -poets. These were published by Hurd & Houghton, in 1875, under the -title of “A Group of Poets and their Haunts,” and the edition was -immediately sold. In literary circles, especially in Boston, this -book won for the young author firm standing-ground. His first work -is chiefly remarkable for the overflow of a copious vocabulary and -the almost riotous display of a rich fancy and abundant learning. We -are swept along with the stream in which trees torn up by the roots -from Greek and Latin banks come whirling, dashing, plunging by in -countless numbers; the waters spread out on all sides, but we are -not always quite sure of the channel. Since then the waters have -subsided, and we see a broad channel and a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> current swift and clear. -In 1876 Professor Harrison made a visit to Greece, and on his return -published through Houghton, Osgood & Co. a volume of “Greek Vignettes.” -The London <i>Academy</i> expressed the general opinion of this book -in the following sentence: “It is so charmingly written that one -can hardly lay it down to criticise it.” In 1878 a visit to Spain -resulted in another book, “Spain in Profile,” which was followed in -1881 by the “History of Spain.” In 1885 the Putnams began to publish -the Story of the Nations, and Professor Harrison’s “Story of Greece” -was given the place of honor as the initial volume of the series. -His chief characteristics, as shown in these works, are critical -insight and descriptive power. His versatile fancy, too, is ever -giving delightful surprises, as in this little note anent <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes’s -seventy-fifth birthday: “He is the Light of New England, as Longfellow -was the Love, and Emerson the Intellect. I saw a wonderful cactus -in Mexico, all prickles and blossoms—<abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Oliver Wendell Holmes all -over; but the blossoms hid the prickles.” Some of his most elaborate -descriptions are found in “Spain in Profile,” such as the “Alhambra,” -“A Spanish Bull-fight”; others again in <i>The Critic</i> (“Venice -from a Gondola,” “A Summer in Alaska,” etc.) to which he has long -been a constant contributor. His critical insight is shown in such -reviews as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> those of Ruskin, Poe, Balzac, and Froude’s “Oceana,” and -in such brief essays as “An Italian Critic,” “Two Views of Shelley,” -“George Sand and Diderot,” etc. His contributions to other periodicals -have been numerous. His articles in <i>The Nation</i>, <i>Literary -World</i>, <i>Current</i>, <i>Independent</i>, <i>Home Journal</i>, -<i>Lippincott’s</i>, <i>Manhattan</i>, <i>Overland Monthly</i>, -<i>American Journal of Philology</i>, <i>Anglia</i>, etc., would fill -several volumes. Two charming stories—“P’tit-José-Ba’tiste,” a Creole -story, and “Dieudonnée,” a West Indian Creole story—testify to his -skill in this kind of writing. Since 1895 he has been professor of -English and Romance languages in the University of Virginia. Several -trips to different parts of Europe, visits to Alaska, British America, -Mexico, and the West Indies, during which he studied the languages as -well as the customs of the peoples, have given him many a “peep over -the edge of things.”</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">W. M. Baskervill.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span></p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span></p> - -<p class="center xbig">COL. JOHN HAY</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="COL_JOHN_HAY">COL. JOHN HAY<br><span class="small">IN WASHINGTON</span></h2></div> - - -<p>It was a happy thought that inspired <i>The Critic’s</i> series of -Authors at Home. The very idea was benevolence. One of its charms -is the reader’s sense of mutuality—reciprocity. Has not <abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> Hay, -for instance, been a welcomed guest beneath many, many roof-trees, -beside many, many hearthstones; and are his own doors to be shut with -a “Procul, O procul este, profani!”? One can fancy the gratitude of -posterity for these contemporary sketches of those whose lips have been -touched and tongues loosened by the song-inspirer—of those who have -“instructed our ignorance, elevated our platitudes, brightened our -dullness, and delighted our leisure.” For the lack of a <i>Critic</i> -in the past, how little we know of those authors at home whom we -forgather with in imagination! A scrap of this memoir, that biography, -and yonder letter, makes a ragged picture at best. There was only -one Boswell, and he, as Southey says, has gone to heaven for his -“Johnson,” if ever a man went there for his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> good works. The mind’s -eye, of course, pictures Rogers at one of his famous breakfasts; the -galaxy at Holland House; Coleridge monotoning, with Lamb furnishing -puns for periods; “smug Sydney,” ten miles from a lemon, scattering -pearls before Yorkshire swine; <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Johnson at Thrale’s, drinking tea -and bullying his betters; Dryden enthroned at the Kit-kat; but all the -portraits, save those by Boswell, are unsatisfactory—mere outlines -without coloring, and lacking that essential background, the “at home.”</p> - -<p>Great political revolutions are the results or causes of literary -schools; and the future student of our literature will note with -more emphasis than we, that one of the incidents or results of the -war between the sections was the birth of a new school of writers -whose works are distinctively original and distinctively American. -To this class, who have won, and are winning, fame for themselves -while conferring it upon their country, belongs <abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> Hay. His earlier -writings have the characteristics of freshness, vigor and intensity -which indicate an absence of the literary vassalage that dwarfed the -growth and conventionalized or anglicized American writers as a class. -Travel and indwelling among the shrines of the Old World’s literary -gods and goddesses, have not un-Americanized either the man or the -author. The facile transition from “Jim Bludso”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span> to “A Woman’s Love” is -paralleled by that from a bull-fight to a Bourbon duel.</p> - -<p>Though not at all ubiquitous, <abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> Hay is a man of many homes,—that -of his birth, Indiana; that of his Alma Mater, “Brown,” whose memory -he has gracefully and affectionately embalmed in verse; that of his -Mother-in-Law, Illinois, having been admitted to her bar in 1861. This -great year—1861—the pivot upon which turned so many destinies,—saw -him “at home” in the White House. Next to his own individual claims -upon national recognition, his relations to the martyred President, the -well-known confidence, esteem and affection which that great guider of -national destiny felt for his youthful secretary, have rendered his -name as familiar as a household word. At home in the tented fields of -the Civil War, at home in the diplomatic circles of Paris, Vienna, and -Madrid, <abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> Hay, after an exceptionally varied experience, planted his -first vine and fig-tree in Cleveland, Ohio, and his second in the City -of Washington. Between these two homes he vibrates. The summer finds -him in his Euclid Avenue house, which occupies the site where that -of Susan Coolidge once stood. Around its far-reaching courtyard and -uncramped, unfenced spaciousness, she moved—that happiest of beings, -one endeared to little stranger hearts all over the land.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span></p> - -<p>Among the many handsome residences erected within a few years in -Washington, <abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> Hay’s is one of the largest. Its solid mass of -red brick, massive stone trimmings, stairway and arched entrance, -Romanesque in style, give it an un-American appearance of being built -to stay. The architect, the late H. H. Richardson, seems to have -dedicated the last efforts of dying genius to the object of making -the structure bold without and beautiful within. The great, broad -hall, the graceful and roomy stairway, the large dining-room on the -right, wainscoted in dark mahogany, with its great chimney-place and -great stone mantel-piece extending beyond on either side; the other -chimney-places with African marble mantelpieces; the oak wainscoting -of the large library, and the colored settles on either side of -the fireplace; the cosey little room at the entrance; the charming -drawing-room—in brief, it seems as though <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Richardson contemplated -a monument to himself when he designed this beautiful home. The library -is the largest room; and it was there that I found <abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> Hay at home in -every sense. The walls are shelved, hung (not crowded) with pictures; -the works of <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">virtu</i> break the otherwise staring ranks of books.</p> - -<p>The author’s house is situated at the corner of H and Sixteenth -Streets. Its southern windows look out upon Lafayette Park, and beyond -it at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> the confronting White House, peculiarly suggestive to <abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> Hay -of historic days and men; and as he labors on his History of Lincoln, -I imagine, the view of the once home of the martyr is a source at once -of sadness and of inspiration. In the same street, one block to the -west, lived George Bancroft; diagonally across the park, and in full -view, is the house where was attempted the assassination of Secretary -Seward, and near where Philip Barton Key was killed by Gen. Sickles; -opposite the east front of <abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> Hay’s house is <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> John’s, one of the -oldest Episcopal churches in the District of Columbia, much frequented -by the older Presidents. It was here that Dolly Madison exhibited her -frills and fervor. Before the days of American admirals, tradition -says that one of the old commodores, returning from a long and far -cruise in which he had distinguished himself, and starting for <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> -John’s on a Sunday morning, entered the church as the congregation -was about repeating the Creed. As soon as he was in the aisle, the -people stood up, as is the custom. The old commodore, being conscious -of meritorious service, mistook the movement for an expression of -personal respect, and with patronizing politeness, waved his hand -toward the <abbr title="reverend">Rev.</abbr> <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Pyne and the congregation, and said: “Don’t rise -on my account!” The whitened sepulchre of a house to the west of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> <abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> -Hay’s, was the residence of Senator Slidell—the once international -What-shall-we-do-with-him? The eastern corner of the opposite block was -the home and death-place of Sumner. In the immediate neighborhood are -the three clubs of Washington—the Metropolitan, Cosmos, and Jefferson. -The first has the character of being exclusive, the second of being -scientific, and the third liberal. In the one they eat terrapin; in -the other, talk anthropology; while in the last, Congressmen, Cabinet -officers and journalists are “at home,” and a spirit of cosmopolitanism -prevails.</p> - -<p>The author of “Pike County Ballads” and “Castilian Days,” and the -biographer of Lincoln, is about sixty-four years of age. In person, of -average height; gray hair, mustache and beard, and brown eyes; well -built, well dressed, well bred and well read, he is pleasant to look -at and to talk with. He is a good talker and polite listener, and -altogether an agreeable and instructive companion. As a collector he -seems to be jealous as to quality rather than greedy as to quantity. -His shelves are not loaded down with so many pounds of print bound in -what-not, and his pictures and works of art “have pedigrees.” I found -great pleasure in examining a fine old edition of Lucan’s “Pharsalia,” -printed at Strawberry Hill, with notes by Grotius and Bentley. A much -more interesting work was “The Hierarchie<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> of the Blessed Angells, -Printed by Adam Islip, 1635.” On the fly-leaf was written: “E. B. -Jones, from his friend A. C. Swinburne.” My attention was called to the -following lines:</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mellifluous Shake-speare, whose enchanting quill,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Commanded mirth and passion, was but Will.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>They suggested the Donnelly extravaganza; and I discovered <abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> Hay to -be of the opinion which well-informed students of English literature -generally hold—namely, that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Donnelly’s ingenuity is equalled only -by his ignorance. There was also a presentation copy of the first -edition of Beckford’s “Vathek,” and De Thou’s copy of Calvin’s Letters, -with De Thou’s and his wife’s ciphers intertwined in gilt upon its side -and back, expressive of a partnership even in their books; and rare and -costly editions of Rogers’s “Italy” and “Poems.” It will be recollected -that the banker-poet engaged Turner to illustrate his verses, and the -total cost to the author was about $60,000. Among objects of special -interest are the bronze masks of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Lincoln, one by Volk (1860), -the other by Clark Mills (1865). It is a test of credulity to accept -them as the counterfeit presentments of the President. There is such -a difference in the contour, lines and expression, that, as <abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> Hay -remarked, the contrast exhibits the influences and effects of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> -great cares and responsibilities under which <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Lincoln labored; and -although both casts were made in life, and at an interval of only five -years, the latter one represents a face fifteen years older than the -first.</p> - -<p>Over the library door are two large bronze portraits, hanging on the -same line; one is of Howells, the other of James. Residence abroad, -and that attention to and study of art to which “An Hour with the -Painters” bears evidence, enabled <abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> Hay to make a selection of -oils and water-colors, pen-and-inks and drawings which is not marred -by anything worthless. Before referring to these, I must not pass a -portrait of Henry James, when twenty-one years of age, painted by -Lafarge. A Madonna and Child, by Sassoferrato; <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> Paul’s, London, -by Canaletto; a woman’s portrait by Maes; four pen-and-ink sketches -by Du Maurier, and one by Zamacois; two by Turner—of Lucerne and -the Drachenfels (see “Childe Harold,” or the guide-book, for Byron’s -one-line picture of the castellated cliff); a water-color by Girtin, -Turner’s over-praised teacher; and a collection of original drawings -by the old masters—Raphael, Correggio, Teniers, Guido, Rubens and -others,—surely there is nothing superfluous in his collection; and -the same elegant and discriminating taste is exhibited in all of <abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> -Hay’s surroundings. The poet has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> laid aside his lyre temporarily, and -with <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Nicolay, late Marshal of the Supreme Court, devoted himself -to preparing for <i>The Century</i> what, at the time it was written, -was the most exhaustive memoir of a man and his times ever written on -this side of the Atlantic. Conscious of the depth, height, and breadth -of their theme, the writers did not propose to leave anything for -successors to supply on the subject of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Lincoln’s administration.</p> - -<p>Reflecting that though scientific workers were plentiful in Washington -there was but a sprinkling of literary men, I asked <abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> Hay what he -thought of the capital’s possibilities as a “literary centre.” His -opinion was that the great presses and publishing-houses were the -nucleus of literary workers; but that the advantages afforded, or to -be afforded, by the National Library and other Government facilities, -must of necessity invite authors to Washington, from time to time, on -special errands, or for temporary residence.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">B. G. Lovejoy.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>[Since his residence in London as Ambassador to the Court of <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> James -and his resignation from the position of Secretary of State, <abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> Hay -has divided his time between Washington and his summer home at Lake -Sunapee, in New Hampshire.—<span class="smcap">Editors.</span>]</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THOMAS_WENTWORTH_HIGGINSON">THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON<br><span class="small">AT CAMBRIDGE</span></h2></div> - - -<p>Colonel Higginson looks back on the anti-slavery period as on something -quite unusual in human experience. He believes there has been no -other movement of the moral consciousness in man since the period -of the Puritan upheaval which has given such mental quickening and -force to those taking part in it. He sees in it the better part of -his training as an author; and it has guided him in his relations to -the social and intellectual agitations of his time. His training as -a reformer he cannot forget; and he still remains first of all the -friend of human progress. In 1850, he lost his pulpit in Newburyport -because of his zealous advocacy of the anti-slavery cause, in season -and out of season. At the same time, he was the Freesoil candidate for -Congress in the northeastern district of Massachusetts. He became the -pastor of a Free Church in Worcester, not connected with any sect, -and organized quite as much in behalf of freedom in politics as for -the sake of freedom in religion. He was connected with all the most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> -stirring anti-slavery scenes in Boston, and he eagerly favored physical -resistance to the encroachments of the pro-slavery party. He joined -in the Anthony Burns riot, in which he was wounded, and which failed -only through a misunderstanding. He was a leader in organizing Freesoil -parties for Kansas, and spent six weeks in the Territory in that -behalf. He was one of those who planned a party for the rescuing of -John Brown after his sentence at Harper’s Ferry; and he early offered -his services to the Governor of Massachusetts on the breaking out of -the Civil War. His zeal for the blacks was so well known, that it -inspired the following lines of some anonymous poetizer:</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There was a young curate of Worcester</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who could have a command if he’d choose ter;</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But he said each recruit</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Must be blacker than soot</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or else he’d go preach where he used ter!</span><br> -</p> - -<p>In fact, he recruited two companies in the vicinity of Worcester, -and was given a captain’s commission. While yet in camp he received -the appointment to the colonelcy of the First South Carolina -Volunteers—“the first slave regiment mustered into the service of the -United States during the late Civil War,”—nearly six months previous -to Colonel Shaw’s famous regiment, the 54th <abbr title="Massachusetts">Mass.</abbr> Volunteers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span></p> - -<p><abbr title="colonel">Col.</abbr> Higginson signed the first call, in 1850, for a national -convention of the friends of woman’s suffrage, which was held -in Worcester. One of the leaders of that movement since, his -fifteen-years’ defence of it in the columns of <i>The Woman’s -Journal</i> shows the faithfulness of his devotion. His connection with -the Free Religious Association proves that he has been true to the -faith of his youth, and to his refusal to connect himself with any sect -in entering the pulpit. When that association lost its pristine glow -and devotion, with the passing of the transcendental period, he still -remained faithful to his early idea, that all religious truth comes -by intuition. His addresses before it on “The Sympathy of Religions” -and on “The Word Philanthropy” indicate the direction of his faith in -humanity and in its development into ever better social, moral, and -spiritual conditions.</p> - -<p>Whatever the value of the independent movement in politics, which -has given us a change in the political administration of the country -for the first time in a quarter of a century, it doubtless owes its -inception and strength largely to those men, like Curtis, Higginson, -and Julian, who were enlisted heart and soul in the anti-slavery -agitation, and who got there a training which has made them impatient -of party manipulation and wrong-doing. Had these men not been -trained<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> to believe in man more than in party, there would have been -no independent organization and no revolution in our politics. In -1880, Colonel Higginson was on the committee of one hundred for the -organization of a new party in case Grant was nominated for a third -term; and four years previously he placed himself in line with the -Independents. In 1884, he was the mover of the resolution in the Boston -Reform Club for the calling of a convention, out of which grew the -independent movement of that year. The resolutions reported by him were -taken up in the New York convention and the spirit of them carried -to successful issue. He was a leading speaker for the Independents -during the campaign, giving nearly thirty addresses in the States of -Massachusetts, Vermont, Connecticut, New York, and New Jersey. The -chairman of the Massachusetts committee wrote him after the campaign of -the great value of his services, and thanked him in the most flattering -terms in behalf of the Independents of the State.</p> - -<p>Colonel Higginson is an author who finds his intellectual inspiration -in contact with Nature and man, as well as in books. His essays on -out-door life, and on physical culture, show the activity of his nature -and his zeal for all kinds of knowledge. He easily interests himself -in all subjects; he can turn his mind readily from one pursuit to -another,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> and he enjoys all with an equal relish. He has a love of -mathematics such as few men possess; and, when in college, Professor -Peirce anticipated that would be the direction of his studies. During -the time of the anti-slavery riots he one day met the Professor in -the street, and remarked to him that he should enjoy an imprisonment -of several months for the sake of the leisure it would give him to -read La Place’s “Mécanique Céleste.” “I heartily wish you might have -that opportunity,” was the Professor’s reply; for he disliked the -anti-slavery agitation as much as he loved his own special line of -studies. Colonel Higginson has also been an enthusiastic lover of -natural history, and he could easily have given his life to that -pursuit. Perhaps not less ardent has been his interest in the moral and -political sciences, to the practical interpretation of which his life -has always been more or less devoted. Not only has he been the champion -of the reforms already mentioned, but he has been the zealous friend of -education. For three years a member of the Massachusetts State Board -of Education, he has also been on the visiting committees of Harvard -University and the Bridgewater Normal School for several years. He was -in the Massachusetts Legislature during 1880 and 1881. He has been an -active member of the Social Science Association; and he is now the -President of the Round<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> Table Club of Boston, which grew out of that -organization.</p> - -<p>This versatility of talent and activity has had its important influence -on Colonel Higginson’s life as an author. It has given vitality, -freshness, and a high aim to his work; but it has, perhaps, scattered -its force. All who have read his principal works, as now published in -a uniform edition by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., will have noted that -they embody many phases of his activity. There are the purely literary -essays, the two volumes of Newport stories and sketches, the out-door -essays, the volume of army reminiscences, and the volume of short -essays (from the <i>Independent</i>, <i>Tribune</i>, and <i>Woman’s -Journal</i>) devoted to the culture and advancement of woman. The -admiring readers of the best of these volumes can but regret that in -recent years his attention has been so exclusively drawn to historical -writing. Though his later work has been done in the finest manner, -it does not give a free opportunity for the expression of Colonel -Higginson’s charming style and manner. The day when he returns to -purely original work, in the line of his own finished and graceful -interpretations of nature and life, will be hailed with joy by the -lovers of his books.</p> - -<p>Any account of the personal characteristics of Colonel Higginson would -be imperfect which omitted to mention his success as a public speaker<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> -and as an after-dinner orator. He was trained for public speaking on -the anti-slavery platform, a better school than any now provided for -the development of youthful talent. When preaching in Worcester he -began to deliver literary lectures before the flourishing lyceums of -that day. As a lecturer he was successful; and he continued for many -years to be a favorite of the lyceum-goers, until the degeneracy of -the popular lecture caused him to withdraw from that field of literary -effort. The lecture on “The Aristocracy of the Dollar,” which he now -occasionally gives to special audiences, has been in use for more than -twenty years, and it has been transformed many times. Another well-worn -lecture is that on “Literature in a Republic,” which he repeats -less often. Among his other subjects have been “Thinking Animals” -(instinct and reason), and “How to Study History.” The paper in the -“<i>Atlantic</i> Essays” on “The Puritan Minister” long did duty as a -lyceum lecture; and those who have read it can but think it well fitted -to the purpose.</p> - -<p>On the platform Colonel Higginson is self-controlled in manner, and -strong in his reserved power. He does not captivate his hearer by the -rush and swing and over-mastering weight of his oratory, but by the -freshness, grace and finish of his thought. He often appears on the -platform in Cambridge and Boston in behalf of the causes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> for which -those cities are noted, and no one is more popular or listened to with -greater satisfaction. Perhaps he only needs the passion and the stormy -vigor of a cause which completely commands and carries captive his -nature to make one of the most successful of popular orators. During -the political campaign of 1884 his addresses were marked by their force -and fire; and he was called for wherever there was a demand for an -enthusiastic and vigorous presentation of the Independent position. As -an after-dinner speaker, however, Colonel Higginson’s gifts shine out -most clearly and reveal the charm of his style to the best advantage.</p> - -<p>It is the public rather than the private side of Colonel Higginson’s -character which has been thus revealed; but it is the side which is -most important to the understanding and appreciation of his books. It -is the quiet and busy life of the scholar and man-of-letters he leads -in Cambridge, but of a man-of-letters who is intensely interested in -all that pertains to his country’s welfare and all that makes for the -elevation of humanity. He is ready at any moment to leave his books -and his pen to engage in affairs, and in settling questions of public -importance, when the cause of right and truth demands. Quickly and -keenly sympathetic with the life of his time, he will never permit the -writing of books to absorb his heart<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> to the exclusion of whatever -human interests his country calls him to consider.</p> - -<p>Born and bred in Cambridge, Colonel Higginson lived in Newburyport, -Worcester, and Newport from 1847 to 1878. In the latter year he -returned to Cambridge, and took up his residence in a house near the -University. Soon after, he built a house on Observatory Hill, between -Cambridge Square and Mount Auburn Cemetery, on ground over which he -played as a boy. It is a plain-looking structure, combining the Queen -Anne and the old colonial style, but very cosey and homelike within. -The hall is modeled after that of an old family mansion in Portsmouth; -and many other features of the house are copied from old New England -dwellings. A sword presented to Colonel Higginson by the freemen of -Beaufort, S. C., the colors borne by his regiment, and other relics -of the Civil War, decorate the hall. To the left on entering is the -study, along one side of which are well-filled book-shelves, on -another a piano, while a bright fire burns in the open grate. Beyond -is a smaller room, lined on all sides with books, in which Colonel -Higginson does his writing. His book-shelves hold many rare books; a -considerable collection by and about women, which he prizes highly and -often uses, he presented to the Boston Public Library, where it is -known as the Galatea Collection. His study has no special<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> ornaments; -its furniture is simple, and the book-cases are of the plainest sort. -The most attractive article of furniture the room contains is his -own easy-chair, which came to him from the Wentworth family, where -it had been an heirloom for generations. Back of the parlor is the -dining-room, which is sunny and cheerful, adorned with flowers, and -adapted to family life and conversation. The pictures that cover the -walls all through the house have been selected with discriminating -appreciation. Many indications of an artistic taste appear throughout -the house; and everywhere there are signs of the domestic comfort the -Colonel enjoys so much. His present wife is a niece of Longfellow’s -first wife. Her literary tastes have found expression in her “Seashore -and Prairie,” a volume of pleasant sketches, in the publication of -which Longfellow took a hearty interest; and in her “Room for One -More,” a delightful children’s book. Domestic in his tastes, his -home is to Colonel Higginson the centre of the world. Its “bright, -particular star” is his daughter of twenty, his only child, to whom he -is devotedly attached. His happiest hours are spent in her company, and -in watching the growth of her mind.</p> - -<p>Everything about Colonel Higginson’s house indicates a refined and -cultivated taste, but nothing of the dilettante spirit is to be seen. -He loves what is artistic, but he prefers not to sacrifice to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> it the -home feeling and the home comforts. He writes all the better for his -quiet and home-keeping environment, and for the wide circle of his -social and personal relations with the best men and women of his time. -His literary work is done in the morning, and he seldom takes up the -pen after the task of the forenoon is accomplished. Most of his work -is done slowly and deliberately, with careful elaboration and thorough -revision. In this manner he wrote his review of <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes’s “Emerson” -in <i>The Nation</i>; and his essays in the same periodical following -the deaths of Longfellow, Emerson, and Phillips. He thoroughly enjoyed -the writing of the papers published in <i>Harper’s Monthly</i>, which -were reissued in book form as his “Larger History of the United -States,” and he entered on the task of hunting out the illustrations -and the illustrative details with an antiquarian’s zeal and a poet’s -love of the romantic. His address on a Revolutionary vagabond shows -the fascination which the old-time has for him in all its features of -quaintness, romance and picturesqueness.</p> - -<p>Colonel Higginson finds the morning hour the most conducive to -freshness and vigor of thought, and the most promotive of health of -body and mind. After dinner he devotes himself to his family, to -social recreation, to communings with and studies of Nature, and to -business. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span> is quite at home in Cambridge society; and, being to the -manner born, he enters into its intellectual and social recreations -with relish and satisfaction. He is a ready and interesting converser, -bright, witty, full of anecdote, and quick with illustrations and -quotations of the most pertinent kind. His wide reading, large -experience of life, and extensive acquaintance with men and women -give him rich materials for conversation, which he knows how to use -gracefully and with good effect. He readily wins the confidence of -those he meets. Women find him a welcome companion, whose kindliness -and chivalric courtesy win their heartiest admiration. They turn to -him with confidence, as to the champion of their sex, and he naturally -numbers many bright and noble women among his friends.</p> - -<p>He is a dignified, ready and agreeable presiding officer. As a leader -of club life he is eminently successful, whether it be the Round Table, -the Browning, or the Appalachian Mountain Club. He enjoys a certain -amount of this kind of intellectual recreation; and fortunate is the -club which secures his kindly and gracious guidance. Very early a -reader of Browning, he is thoroughly familiar with the works of that -poet, and rejoices in whatever extends a knowledge of his writings. -Especially has he been the soul of the Round-Table Club, which meets -fortnightly in Boston<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> parlors—an association full of good-fellowship, -the spirit of thoughtful inquiry, and earnest sympathy with the best -intellectual life of the time.</p> - -<p>As Colonel Higginson walks along the street, much of the soldier’s -bearing appears; for he is tall and erect, and keeps the soldier’s -true dignity of movement. His chivalric spirit pervades much that he -has written, but it is tempered and refined by the artistic instinct -for grace and beauty. He has the manly and heroic temper, but none -of the soldier’s rudeness or love of violence. So he appears in his -books as of knightly metal, but as a knight who also loves the rôle of -the troubadour. A master of style, he does not write for the sake of -decoration and ornament. He is emphatically a scholar and a lover of -books, but not in the scholastic sense. A lover of ideas, an idealist -by nature and conviction, he sees in the things of the human spirit -what is more than all the scholar’s lore and knowledge wrung from the -physical world. He is a scholar who learns of men and events more than -of books; and yet what wealth of classic and literary allusion is his -throughout all his books and addresses! Whether in the study or in the -camp, on the platform or in the State House, his tastes are literary -and scholarly; but his sympathies are with all that is natural, manly -and progressive.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span></p> - -<p>Seven months of last year Colonel Higginson spent in Europe, and he has -just finished a life of Longfellow in the “American Men of Letters” -series.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">George Willis Cooke.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">DR. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="DR_OLIVER_WENDELL_HOLMES">DR. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES<br><span class="small">IN BEACON STREET</span></h2></div> - - -<p>“It is strange,” remarks Lady Wilde, “how often a great genius has -given a soul to a locality.” We may prefer our own illustration to -hers, and remember in simpler fashion what Judd’s “Margaret” did for -a little village in Maine, or what Howe did for a little Western -town, instead of insisting that Walter Scott created Scotland or -Byron the Rhine. But the remark suggests, perhaps, quite as forcibly, -what locality has done for genius. The majority of writers who have -tried to deal with people, whether as novelists, poets, or essayists, -localize their human beings until “local color” becomes one of the most -essential factors of their success. Sometimes, like Judd and Howe, they -make the most of a very narrow environment; sometimes, like Cable, they -make their environment include a whole race, till the work becomes -historical as well as photographic; sometimes, like Mrs. Jackson, they -travel for a new environment; sometimes, like Howells and James, they -travel from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> environment to environment, and write now of Venice, -now of London, now of Boston, with skill equal to the ever-varying -opportunity; sometimes, like George Eliot writing “Romola,” or Harriet -Prescott Spofford writing “In a Cellar,” they stay at home and give -wonderful pictures of a life and time they have never known—compelled, -at least, however, to seek the environment of a library. Even -Shakspeare, who was certainly not a slave to his surroundings, sought -local color from books to an extent that we realize on seeing Irving’s -elaborate efforts to reproduce it. Even Hawthorne, escaping from -the material world whenever he could into the realm of spirit and -imagination, made profound studies of Salem or Italy the basis from -which he flew to the empyrean. To understand perfectly how fine such -work as this is, one must have, one’s self, either from experience or -study, some knowledge of the localities so admirably reproduced.</p> - -<p>The genius of Oliver Wendell Holmes was almost unique in the fact that, -dealing almost exclusively with human beings—not merely human nature -exhibited in maxims—rarely wandering into discussions of books or art -or landscape—it was almost entirely independent of any environment -whatever. He was anchored to one locality almost as securely as Judd -was to New England or Howe to the West; for a chronological record -of the events of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span> his life makes no mention of any journeys, except -the two years and a half as medical student in Europe, when he was -twenty-four years old, and “One Hundred Days in Europe” in 1887. He -spent every winter in Boston, every summer at Beverly Farms, which, -like Nahant, may almost be called “cold roast Boston”; yet during -the fifty years he wrote from Boston, he neither sought his material -from his special environment nor tried to escape from it. It is -human nature, not Boston nature, that he has drawn for us. Once, in -“Elsie Venner,” there is an escape like Hawthorne’s into the realm -of the psychological and weird; several times in the novels there -are photographic bits of a New England “party,” or of New England -character; but the great mass of the work which has appealed to so wide -a class of readers with such permanent power appeals to them because, -dealing with men and women, it deals with no particular men and women. -Indeed, it is hardly even men, women, and children that troop through -his pages; but rather man, woman, and child. His human beings are no -more Bostonians than the ducks of his “Aviary” are Charles River ducks. -They are ducks. He happened to see them on the Charles River; nay, -within the still narrower limits of his own window-pane; still, they -are ducks, and not merely Boston ducks. The universality of his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> genius -is wonderful, not because he exhibits it in writing now a clever novel -about Rome, now a powerful sketch of Montana, and anon a remarkable -book about Japan; but it is wonderful because it discovers within the -limits of Boston only what is universal. To understand perfectly how -fine such work as this is, you need never have been anywhere, yourself, -or have read any other book; any more than you would have to be one -of the “Boys of ’29” to appreciate the charming class-poems that have -been delighting the world, as well as the “Boys,” for fifty years. In -“Little Boston” he has, it is true, impaled some of the characteristics -which are generally known as Bostonian; but his very success in doing -this is of a kind to imply that he had studied his Bostonian only in -Paris or <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> Louis; for the peculiar traits described are those no -Bostonian is supposed to be able to see for himself, still less to -acknowledge. If <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes were to have spent a winter in New York, he -would have carried back with him, not material for a “keen satire on -New York society,” but only more material of what is human. Nay, he -probably would not have carried back with him anything at all which -he had not already found in Boston, since he seems to have found -everything there.</p> - -<p>So there is no need of knowing how or where <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes lived, or what -books he read, to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> understand and enjoy his work. But all the same, -one likes to know where he lived, from a warm, affectionate, personal -interest in the man; just as we like to know of our dearest friends, -not only that they dwell in a certain town, but that their parlor is -furnished in red, and that the piano stands opposite the sofa. Of his -earliest home, at Cambridge, he has himself told us in words which we -certainly will not try to improve upon. Later came the home of his -early married life in Montgomery Place, of which he has said: “When he -entered that door, two shadows glided over the threshold; five lingered -in the doorway when he passed through it for the last time, and one of -the shadows was claimed by its owner to be longer than his own.” A few -brief, half-mystical allusions such as this are all that we gain from -his writings about his personal surroundings, as a few simple allusions -to certain streets and buildings are all that localize the “Autocrat” -as a Bostonian. For the man who has almost exceptionally looked into -his own heart to write has found in his heart, as he has in his city, -never what was personal or special, always what was human and universal.</p> - -<p>But it will be no betrayal of trust for us to follow out the dim -outline a little, and tell how the five shadows flitted together from -Montgomery Place to Charles Street. Then, after another<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> dozen years, -still another change seemed desirable. <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes felt as few men do -the charm of association, and the sacredness of what is endeared by -age; but the very roundness of his nature which made him appreciate -not only what is human, but everything that is human, made him keenly -alive to the charm of what is new if it is beautiful. A rounded nature -finds it hard to be consistent. He wrote once: “It is a great happiness -to have been born in an old house haunted by recollections,” and he -asserted more than once the dignity of having, not only ancestors, but -ancestral homes; yet if we were to have reminded him of this in his -beautiful new house with all the latest luxuries and improvements, we -can imagine the kindly smile with which he would have gazed round the -great, beautiful room, with its solid woods and plate-glass windows, -and said gently: “I know I ought to like the other, and I do, but -how can I help liking this, too?” Yes, the charming new architecture -and the lovely new houses were too much for them; they would flit -again—though with a sigh. Not out of New England—no, indeed! not away -from Boston—certainly not. Hardly, indeed, out of Charles Street; for -although a “very plain brown-stone front would do,” provided its back -windows looked upon the river, the river they must have.</p> - -<p><abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes wanted, not big front windows<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> from which to study the -Bostonians, but a big bay-window at the back, from which he could see -the ducks and gulls and think how like to human nature are all their -little lives and loves and sorrows. So little is there in his work of -what is personal, that it is possible there are people—in England—who -really think the “Autocrat” dwelt in the boarding-house of his books. -But those who believe with him that, as a rule, genius means ancestors, -are not surprised to know that <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes himself had many more than -the average allowance of ancestors, and that, as a descendant of -Dudley, Bradstreet, the Olivers, Quincys, and Jacksons, his “hut of -stone” fronted on one of Boston’s most aristocratic streets, though -the dear river behind it flows almost close to its little garden gate. -Under his windows all the morning trooped the loveliest children -of the city in the daintiest apparel, wheeled in the costliest of -perambulators by the whitest-capped of French nurses. Past his door -every afternoon the “swellest” turn-outs of the great city passed on -their afternoon parade. Near his steps, at the hour for afternoon -tea, the handsomest <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coupés</i> came to anchor and deposited their -graceful freight. But this is not the panorama, that the Doctor himself -was watching. Whether in the beautiful great dining-room, where he was -first to acknowledge the sway at breakfast, luncheon and dinner, of -a still gentler<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> Autocrat than himself, or in the library upstairs, -which was the heart of the home, he was always on the river side of the -house. The pretty little reception-room downstairs on the Beacon Street -side, he would tell you himself, with a merry smile, is a good place -for your “things”; you yourself must come directly up into the library, -and look on the river, broad enough just here to seem a beautiful lake. -I know of no other room in the heart of a great city where one so -completely forgot the nearness of the world as in this library. Even if -the heavy doors stood open into the hall, one forgot the front of the -house and thought only of the beautiful expanse of water that seemed -to shut off all approach save from the gulls. News from the humming -city must come to you, it would seem, only in sound of marriage or -funeral bells in the steeples of the many towns, distinct but distant, -looming across the water. And this, not because the talk by that -cheerful fire was of the “Over-Soul” or the “Infinite,” so unworldly, -so introspective, so wholly of things foreign or intellectual. Nothing -could be more human than the chat that went on there, or the laugh that -rang out so cheerily at such frequent intervals. Even with the shadow -of a deep personal grief over the hearthstone, a noble cheerfulness -that would not let others feel the shadow kept the room<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> bright though -the heart was heavy. Are there pictures? There is certainly one -picture; for although a fine Copley hangs on one wall, and one of the -beautiful framed embroideries (for which <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes’s daughter-in-law -is famous) on another, who will not first be conscious that in a -certain corner hangs the original portrait of Dorothy Q.? Exactly as -it is described in the poem, who can look at it without breathing -gratefully</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“O Damsel Dorothy, Dorothy Q.,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Great is the gift <em>we</em> owe to you,”</span><br> -</p> - -<p class="p0">and thinking almost with a shudder that if,</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 7em;">“a hundred years ago,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Those close-shut lips had answered No,”</span><br> -</p> - -<p class="p0">there would have been no <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes. Somebody there might have been; -but though he had been only “one-tenth another to nine-tenths” -<em>him</em>, assuredly the loss of even a tenth would have been a bitter -loss.</p> - -<p>Books there are in this library, of course; but you were as little -conscious of the books as you were of the world. You were only really -conscious of the presence in the room, and the big desk on which was -lying the pen that wrote both “The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table” -and “The Professor.” As you took it up, it was pretty to see the look -that stole over <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes’s face; it was the twinkle of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> smile that -seemed to mean, “Yes, it was the pen that did it! <em>I</em> never could -have done it in the world!” His success gave him a deep and genuine -pleasure, largely due to the surprise of it. At forty-six he believed -he had done all that could be expected of him, and was content to rest -his reputation—as well he might—on those earlier poems, which will -always make a part of even his latest fame. But the greater fame which -followed was—not greatness thrust upon him, for genius such as his -is something more than the patience which is sometimes genius,—but -certainly greatness <em>dragged out of him</em>. The editors of the -proposed <i>Atlantic</i> insisted that he should write for it. The -Doctor did not yield, till, as he himself tells it, with another -twinkling smile, they invited him to a “convincing dinner at Porter’s.” -Feeling very good-natured immediately after, he promised to “try,” and -a little later sent off a few sheets which he somewhat dubiously hoped -would “do.” The storm of greeting and applause that followed even these -first sheets filled him with amazement, but with genuine delight. It -was beautiful to see how deeply it touched him to know that thousands -of readers think “The Autocrat” the most charming book they own. For -this was not the arrogant satisfaction of the “master” who announces: -“Listen! I have composed the most wonderful sonata that the world has -ever heard!” Still less<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span> was it the senseless arrogance of a foolish -violin that might say: “Listen! you shall hear from me the most superb -music you can imagine!” Rather was it the low-voiced, wondering content -of an æolian harp, that lying quietly upon the window-sill, with no -thought that it is there for anything but to enjoy itself, suddenly -finds wonderful harmonies stealing through its heart and out into the -world, and sees a group of gladdened listeners gathering about it. “How -wonderful! how wonderful that I have been chosen to give this music to -the world! Am I not greatly to be envied?” As the harp thus breathes -its gratitude to the breeze that stirs it, so <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes looked his -gratitude to the pen that “helped” him; with something of the same -wonder at personal success that made Thackeray exclaim: “Down on your -knees, my boy! That is the house where I wrote ‘Vanity Fair’!” Do we -not all love Thackeray and Holmes the better for caring so much about -our caring for them?</p> - -<p>But it is growing late and dark. Across the river—one almost says -across the bay—the lights are twinkling, and we must go. As the cool -breeze touches our faces, how strange it seems to see the paved and -lighted street, the crowding houses, the throng of carriages, and to -realize that the great, throbbing, fashionable world has been so near -to us all the afternoon while we have been so far from it!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span></p> - -<p>Now, as we go down the steps, a sudden consciousness strikes us of what -very pleasant places Boston literary lines seem to fall into! Is it -that literary people are more fortunate in Boston, or that in Boston -only the fortunate people are literary? For as we think of brilliant -names associated with Beacon Street, Boylston Street, Commonwealth -Avenue, Newbury and Marlborough Streets, it certainly seems as if the -Bohemia of plain living and high thinking—so prominent a feature -of New York literary and artistic life—had hardly a foothold in -aristocratic, literary Boston.</p> - -<p>Finally, if it seems wonderful that living almost exclusively in one -locality, <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes should have succeeded as few have succeeded in -dealing with the mysteries of universal human nature, still more -wonderful is it, perhaps, that dealing very largely with the foibles -and follies of human nature, nothing that he ever wrote has given -offence. True, this is partly owing to his in tense unwillingness to -hurt the feelings of any human being. No fame for saying brilliant -things that came to this gentlest of autocrats and most genial of -gentlemen, tinged with a possibility that any one had winced under -his pen, seemed to him of any value, or gave him any pleasure. But, -as a matter of fact, no bore has ever read anything <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes has -written about bores with the painful consciousness, “Alas! I was -that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> bore!” We may take to ourselves a good deal that he says, but -never with a sense of shame or humiliation. On the contrary, we laugh -the most sincerely of any one, and say “Of course! that is exactly -it! Why, I have done that thing myself a thousand times!” And so the -genial, keen-eyed master of human nature writes with impunity how -difficult he finds it to love his neighbor properly till he gets away -from him, and tells us how he hates to have his best friend hunt him -up in the cars and sit down beside him, and explains that, although -a radical, he finds he enjoys the society of those who believe more -than he does better than that of those who believe less; and neighbor -and best friend, radical and conservative, laugh alike and alike enjoy -the joke, each only remembering how <em>he</em> finds it hard to love -<em>his</em> neighbor, and how <em>he</em> hates to talk in the cars. The -restless “interviewer,” who may perhaps have gained entrance to the -pleasant library, never found himself treated, after he left, with -any less courtesy than that which allowed him to be happy while he -was “interviewing,” to the misery of his hapless victim. The pen that -“never dared to be as funny as it could be,” never permitted itself to -be as witty as it might have been, at the expense of any suffering to -others. The gentle Doctor, when the interviewer was gone, turned again -to his ducks in the beautiful aviary outside his window,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span> and only -vented his long-suffering in some general remark thrown carelessly in, -as he describes how the bird</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sees a flat log come floating down the stream;</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stares undismayed upon the harmless stranger;—</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ah! were <em>all</em> strangers harmless as they seem!</span><br> -</p> - -<p>And the very latest stranger who may have inflicted the blow that drew -out that gentlest of remonstrances, would be the first to laugh and to -enjoy the remonstrance as a joke!</p> - -<p>And so came to the Autocrat what he prized as the very best of all his -fame—the consciousness that he never made a “hit” that could wound. So -truly was this his temperament, that if you praised some of the fine -lines of his noble poem on “My Aviary,” he would say gently: “But don’t -you think the best line is where I spare the feelings of the duck?” and -you remember,—</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Look quick! there’s one just diving!</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And while he’s under—just about a minute—</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I take advantage of the fact to say</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His fishy carcase has no virtue in it,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The gunning idiot’s worthless hire to pay.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>And not even “while they are under” would <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes ridicule his -fellow-men. It is never <em>we</em> whom he was laughing at: it is simply -human nature on its funny side; and it is a curious fact that none -of us resent being considered to have the foibles<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span> of human nature -provided they are not made to appear personal foibles. So, while -remembering the intensity of the pleasure he has given us, let us -remember, what he would care far more to hear, that he has never given -any of us anything <em>but</em> pleasure.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Alice Wellington Rollins.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span></p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">JULIA WARD HOWE</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="JULIA_WARD_HOWE">JULIA WARD HOWE<br><span class="small">AT “OAK GLEN,” NEWPORT</span></h2></div> - - -<p>To those persons who have only visited the town of Newport, taken its -ocean drive, lunched at its Casino, strolled on its beach, and stared -at its fine carriages and the fine people in them, that fill Bellevue -Avenue of an afternoon, the idea of choosing Newport as a place to -rest in must seem a very singular one. If their visit be a brief one, -they may easily fail to discover that after leaving the limits of the -gay summer city, with its brilliant social life, its polo matches, its -races, balls, dinners, and fêtes, there still remains a district, some -twelve miles in length, of the most rural character. The land here is -principally owned by small farmers, who raise, and sell at exorbitant -and unrural prices, the fruit, vegetables, eggs, milk, butter and -cream which the Newport market-men, adding a liberal percentage, sell -again to their summer customers. The interior of the island is in many -respects the most agreeable part of it; the climate is better, being -much freer from heavy fogs and sea mists, and the thermometer neither -rises so high nor falls so low as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> in the town. The neighborhood of -Lawton’s Valley is one of the most charming and healthy parts; and it -is in this spot that Mrs. Howe has, for many years, made her summer -home. The house stands a little removed from the cross-road which -connects the East and West Roads, the two thoroughfares that traverse -the island from Newport to Bristol Ferry. Behind the house there is a -grove of trees—oaks, willows, maples, and pines—which is the haunt of -many singing birds. The quiet house seems to be the centre of a circle -of song, and the earliest hint of day is announced by their morning -chorus. In this glen “The Mistress of the Valley,” as Mrs. Howe has -styled herself, in one of her poems, spends many of her leisure hours, -during the six months which she usually passes at her summer home. Here -she sits with her books and needle-work, and of an afternoon there -is reading aloud, and much pleasant talk under the trees; sometimes -a visitor comes from town, over the five long miles of country road; -but this is not so common an occurrence as to take away from the -excitement created by the ringing of the door-bell. There are lotus -trees at Oak Glen, but its mistress can not be said to eat thereof, for -she is never idle, and what she calls rest would be thought by many -people to be very hard work. She rests herself, after the work of the -day, by reading her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> Greek books, which have given her the greatest -intellectual enjoyment of the later years of her life. In the summer -of 1886 she studied Plato in the original, and last year she read the -plays of Sophocles.</p> - -<p>The day’s routine is something in this order: Breakfast, in the -American fashion, at eight o’clock, and then a stroll about the place, -after which the household duties are attended to; and then a long -morning of work. Letter-writing, which—with the family correspondence, -business matters, the autograph fiends and the letter cranks—is a -heavy burthen, is attended to first; and then whatever literary work -is on the anvil is labored at steadily and uninterruptedly until one -o’clock, when the great event of the day occurs. This is the arrival -of the mail, which is brought from town by Jackson Carter, a neighbor, -who combines the functions of local mail-carrier, milkman, expressman, -vender of early vegetables, and purveyor of gossip generally; to which -he adds the duty of touting for an African Methodist church. Jackson is -of the African race, and though he signs his name with a cross, he is -a shrewd, intelligent fellow, and is quite a model of industry. After -the newspapers and the letters have been digested, comes the early -dinner, followed by coffee served in the green parlor, which is quite -the most important apartment of the establishment.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> It is an open-air -parlor, in the shape of a semicircle, set about with a close, tall -green hedge, and shaded by the spreading boughs of an ancient mulberry -tree. Its inmates are completely shielded from the sight of any chance -passers-by; and in its quiet shade they often overhear the comments -of the strangers on the road outside, to whom the house is pointed -out. It was in this small paradise that “<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Isaacs” was written, and -read aloud to Mrs. Howe, chapter by chapter, as it was written by her -nephew, Marion Crawford. Sometimes there is reading aloud from the -newspapers and reviews here, and then the busiest woman in all Newport -goes back to her sanctum for two more working hours; after which she -either drives or walks till sunset.</p> - -<p>If it is a drive, it will be, most likely, an expedition to the town, -where some household necessity must be bought, or some visit is to be -paid. If a stroll is the order of the day, it will be either across -the fields to a hill-top near by, from which a wonderful view of the -island and the bay is to be had, or along the country road, past the -schoolhouse, and towards Mrs. Howe’s old home, Lawton’s Valley. In -these sunset rambles, Mrs. Howe is very sure to be accompanied by one -or more of her grandchildren, four of whom, with their mother, Mrs. -Hall, pass the summers at Oak Glen. She finds the children excellent -company,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> and they look forward to the romp which follows the twilight -stroll as the greatest delight of the day. The romp takes place in the -drawing-room, where the rugs are rolled up, and the furniture moved -back against the wall, leaving the wooden floor bare for the dancing -and prancing of the little feet. Mrs. Howe takes her place at the -piano, strikes the chords of an exhilarating Irish jig, and the little -company, sometimes enlarged by a contingent of the Richards cousins -from Maine, dance and jig about with all the grace and <em>abandon</em> -of childhood. After supper, when the children are at last quiet and -tucked up in their little beds, there is more music—either with the -piano, in the drawing-room, or, if it is a warm night, on the piazza, -with the guitar. As the evenings grow longer, in the late summer and -autumn, there is much reading aloud, but only from novels of the most -amusing, sensational or romantic description. None others are admitted; -after the long day of work and study, relaxation and diversion are the -two things needed. I have observed that with most hard literary workers -and speculative thinkers, this class of novel is most in demand. The -more intellectual romances are greedily devoured by people whose -customary occupations lead them into the realm of actualities, and -whose working hours are devoted to some practical business.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span></p> - -<p>Last year Mrs. Howe had at heart the revival of the Town and Country -Club, of which she is the originator and President, and which in 1886 -had omitted its meetings. These meetings, which take place fortnightly -during the season, are held at the houses of different members, and -are both social and intellectual in character. The substantial part -of the feast is served first, in the form of a lecture or paper from -some distinguished person, after which there are refreshments, and talk -of an informal character. Among others who in past seasons have read -before the Club are Bret Harte, Prof. Agassiz, the <abbr title="reverend">Rev.</abbr> Edward Everett -Hale, the late Wm. B. Rogers, Mark Twain, Charles Godfrey Leland (“Hans -Breitmann”), and the <abbr title="reverend">Rev.</abbr> Drs. James Freeman Clarke, Frederic H. Hedge -and George Ellis.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Howe’s work for the summer of 1887 included a paper on a subject -connected with the Greek drama, to be read at the Concord School of -Philosophy, and an essay for the Woman’s Congress which was held in the -early fall. She is much interested in the arts and industries of women, -and in connection with these maintains a wide correspondence. But it is -not all work and no play, even at such a busy place as Oak Glen. There -are whole days of delightful leisure. Sometimes these are spent on the -water on board of some friend’s yacht; or a less pretentious catboat<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> -is chartered, which conveys Mrs. Howe and her guests to Conanicut, or -to Jamestown, where the day is spent beside the waves. Last summer a -beautiful schooner yacht was lent to Mrs. Howe for ten days, and a -glorious cruise was made, under the most smiling of summer skies. A day -on the water is the thing that is most highly enjoyed by the denizens -of Oak Glen; but there are other days hardly less delightful, spent in -some out-of-the-way rural spot, where picnics are not forbidden, though -these, alas! are becoming rare, since the churlish notice was posted -up at Glen Anna, forbidding all trespassing on these grounds, which, -time out of mind, have been free to all who loved them. There are still -the Paradise Rocks, near the house of Edwin Booth, and thither an -expedition is occasionally made.</p> - -<p>Country life is not without its drawbacks and troubles; but these are -not so very heavy after all, compared with some of the tribulations -of the city, or of those who place themselves at the mercy of summer -hotel keepers and boarding-house ladies. The old white pony, Mingo, -<em>will</em> get into the vegetable garden occasionally, and eat off -the heads of the asparagus, and trample down the young corn; the -neighbor’s pig sometimes gets through the weak place in the wall, -with all her pinky progeny behind her, and takes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span> possession of the -very best flower-bed; the honeysuckle vine does need training; and -the grapes will not ripen as well as they would have done, if the new -trellis projected recently had been set up. But after all, taking into -consideration the fact that Io, the Jersey cow, is giving ten quarts of -rich milk a day, and that the new cook has mastered the simplest and -most delightful of dishes—Newport corn-meal flap-jacks,—Mrs. Howe’s -life at Oak Glen is as peaceful and happy an existence as one is apt -to find in these nihilistic days of striking hotel waiters and crowded -summer resorts.</p> - -<p>Beautiful as Newport is in these soft days of early summer, it is even -lovelier in the autumn, and every year it is harder to leave Oak Glen, -to give up the wide arc of the heavens, and to look up into God’s sky, -between the two lines of brick houses of a city street. Each winter -the place at Newport is kept open a little longer, and it is only the -closing days of November that find Mrs. Howe established in her house -in Boston. Beacon Street, with its smooth macadamized roadway, whereon -there is much pleasure driving, and in the winter a perfect sleighing -carnival, is as pleasant a street as it is possible to live on, but a -country road is always a better situation than a city street, and a -forest path perhaps is best of all. When she is once settled in her -Boston<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> home, the manifold interests of the complex city life claim -every hour in the day. Her remarkable powers of endurance, her splendid -enjoyment of life and health make her winters as full of pleasure -as the more peaceful summer-tide. It is a very different life from -that led at Oak Glen; it has an endless variety of interests, social, -private, public, charitable, philanthropic, musical, artistic, and -intellectual. A half-dozen clubs and associations of women in the city -and its near vicinity, which owe their existence in large part to Mrs. -Howe’s efforts, claim her presence in their midst at least once in -every year.</p> - -<p>Among the public occasions which have held the greatest interest for -Mrs. Howe of late years was the dedication of the new Kindergarten for -the Blind in 1887, at which she read one of her happiest “occasional -poems.” The authors’ reading in aid of the Longfellow memorial fund, -at the Boston Museum, where, before an audience the like of which had -never before been seen in the theatre, she read a poem in memory of -Longfellow, was an occasion which will not soon be forgotten by those -who were present. Mrs. Howe was the only woman who took part in the -proceedings, the other authors who read from their own works being <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> -Holmes, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Lowell, Mark Twain, Colonel Higginson, Prof. Norton, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -E. E. Hale, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Aldrich and <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Howells.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> Mrs. Howe has spoken several -times at the Nineteenth Century Club, and she is always glad to revisit -New York, for though she is often thought to be a Bostonian, she never -forgets that the first twenty years of her life were passed in New -York, the city of her birth.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Maud Howe.</span><br> -</p> -<hr class="tb"> -<p class="center p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img003"> -<img src="images/003.jpg" class="w50" alt="Author portrait"> -</span></p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">MR. HOWELLS</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="MR_HOWELLS">MR. HOWELLS<br><span class="small">IN BEACON STREET, BOSTON</span></h2></div> - - -<p>If any one wants to live in a city street, I do not see how he can well -find a pleasanter one than Beacon Street, Boston. Its older houses come -down Beacon Hill, past the Common and the Public Garden, in single -file, like quaint Continentals on parade, who, being few, have to make -the most of themselves. Then it forms in double file again and goes -on a long way, out toward the distant Brookline hills, which close -in the view. Howells’s number is 302. In this Back Bay district of -made ground, the favored West End of the newer city, you cannot help -wondering how it is that all about you is in so much better taste than -in New York—so much handsomer, neater, more homelike and engaging than -our shabby Fifth Avenue. Beacon Street is stately; so is Marlborough -Street, that runs next parallel to it; and even more so is Commonwealth -Avenue—with its lines of trees down the centre, like a Paris -boulevard,—next beyond it. The eye traverses long fretworks of good<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span> -architectural design, and there is no feature to jar upon the quiet -elegance and respectability. The houses seem like those of people in -some such prosperous foreign towns as the newer Liverpool, Düsseldorf -or Louvain. The comfortable horizontal line prevails. There are green -front doors, and red brick, and brass knockers. A common pattern of -approach is to have a step or two outside, and a few more within the -vestibule. That abomination, the ladder-like “high stoop” of New York, -seems unknown.</p> - -<p>These are the scenes amid which <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Howells takes his walks abroad. -From his front windows he may see the upper-class types about which he -has written—the Boston girl, “with something of the nice young fellow -about her,” the Chance Acquaintance, with his eye-glass, the thin, -elderly, patrician Coreys, the blooming, philanthropic Miss Kingsbury. -The fictitious Silas Lapham built in this same quarter the mansion -with which he was to consolidate his social aspirations. Perhaps some -may have thought it identical with that of Howells, so close are the -sites, and so feelingly does the author speak—as if from personal -experience—of dealings with an architect, and the like. But Howells’s -abode does not savor of the architect, nor of the mansion. It is a -builder’s house, though even the builder, in Boston, does not rid -himself of the general tradition<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> of comfort and solidity. <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Oliver -Wendell Holmes lived in a house but little different, two doors above. -That of Howells is plain and wide, of red brick, three stories and -mansard roof, with a long iron balcony under the parlor windows. Its -chief adornment is a vine of Japanese ivy, which climbs half the entire -height of the façade. The singular thing about this vine is, that it is -not planted in his own ground, but a section in that of his neighbor -on each side. It charmingly drapes his wall, while growing but thinly -on theirs, and forms a clear case of “natural selection” which might -properly almost render its owners discontented enough to cut it down. -The leaves, as I saw them, touched by the autumn, glowed with crimson -like sumac. The house is approached by steps of easy grade. There is -a little reception-room at the left of the hall, and the dining-room -is on the same floor. You mount a flight of stairs, and come to the -library and study, at the back, and the parlor in front.</p> - -<p><i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vlan!</i> as the French have it—what a flood of light in this -study! The shades of the three wide windows are drawn up to the very -top; it is like being at the seaside; there are no owlish habits about -a writer who can stand this. It is, in fact, the seaside, so why should -it not seem like it? The bold waters of the Back Bay, a wide<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> basin of -the Charles River, dash up to the very verge of the small dooryard, in -which the clothes hang out to dry. It looks as if they might some day -take a notion to come in and call on the cook in the kitchen, or even -lift up the whole establishment bodily, and land it on some new Ararat. -This stretch of water is thought to resemble the canal of the Guidecca, -at Venice; Henry James, with others, has certified to the view as -Venetian. You take the Cambridge gas-works for Palladio’s domes, and -Bunker Hill Monument, which is really more like a shot-tower, for a -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">campanile</i>; and then, at sunset, when the distant buildings are -black upon the glowing, ruddy sky, the analogy is not so very remote. -All the buildings on this new-made land are set upon piles, and the -tides, in a measure, flow under them twice a day. It was a serious -question at the beginning, whether there should not be canals here -instead of streets; but, considering that the canals would be frozen -up a large part of the year, the verdict was against them. I am rather -sorry for this: it would have been interesting to see what kind of -gondoliers the Boston hackmen and car-drivers would have made. Would -they have worn uniforms? Would they have sung, to avoid collisions, in -rounding the corners of Exeter and Fairfield streets? Ah me! for those -plaintive ballads that might have been? It would have been interesting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> -to see the congregation of Phillips Brooks’s church—the much-vaunted -Trinity—going to service by water, and the visitors to the Art Museum, -and the students to the Institute of Technology. All these are but -a stone’s-throw from Howells. Howells may congratulate himself on a -greater solidity for his share of the land than most, for fifty years -ago, when there were tide-mills in this neighborhood, it was the site -of a toll-house. <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Terra firma</i>, all about him, has an antiquity -of but from twelve to twenty years. His house is perhaps a dozen years -old, and he has owned it but four.</p> - -<p>Ste. Beuve, the most felicitous of critics, wishes to know a man in -order to understand his work. I hardly think the demand a fair one; -there ought to be enough in every piece of good work to stand for -itself, and its maker ought to have the right to be judged at the level -that the work represents, rather than in his personal situation, which -may often be even mean or ridiculous. Nevertheless, if it be desired, -I know of no one more capable of standing the test than William Dean -Howells. Perhaps I incline to a certain friendly bias—though possibly -even a little extreme in this may be pardoned, for surely no one is -more unreasonably carped at than he nowadays,—but he impresses me as -corresponding to the ideal of what greatness ought to be; how it ought -to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> look and act. He not only is, but appears, really great. In the -personal conduct of his life, too, he confirms what is best in his -books. Thus, there are no obscurities to be cleared up; no stories to -be heard of egotism, selfishness or greed towards his contemporaries; -there is nothing to be passed over in discreet silence. He has an -open and generous nature, the most polished yet unassuming manners, -and an impressive presence, which is deprived of anything formidable -by a rare geniality. In looks, he is about the middle height, rather -square built, with a fine, Napoleonic head, which seems capable of -containing any thing. I have seen none of his many portraits that does -him justice. Few men with his opportunities have done so much, or been -so quick to recognize original merit and struggling aspiration. There -is no trace in him of uneasiness at the success of others, of envy -towards rivals—though, indeed, it would be hard to say, from the very -beginning of his career, where any rivals in his own peculiar vein -were to be found. Such a largeness of conduct is surely one of the -indications of genius, a part of the serene calm which is content to -wait for its own triumph and forbear push or artifice to hasten it.</p> - -<p>To write of Howells “at home” seems to write particularly of Howells. -There is a great deal of the homely and the home-keeping feeling in -his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> books, which has had to do with making him the chosen novelist of -the intelligent masses. To one who knows this and his personal habits, -it would not seem most proper to look for him in courts or camps, in -lively clubs, at dinners, on the rostrum, or in any of the noisier -assemblages of men. (Even in his journeyings, in those charming books, -“Venetian Life” and “Florentine Mosaics,” he is a saunterer and gentle -satirist, without the fire and zeal of the genuine traveler.) All these -he enjoys, no one more so, at the proper time and occasion, but one -would seek him most naturally in the quiet of his domestic circle. And -even there the most fitting place seems yonder desk, where the work -awaits him over which but now his thoughtful brow was bending. He is a -novelist for the genuine love of it, and not in the way of arrogance -or parade, nor even for its rewards, substantial for him though they -are. One would say that the greatest of his pleasures was to follow, -through all their ramifications, the problems of life and character he -sets himself to study. In a talk I had with him some time ago, he said, -incidentally: “Supposing there were a fire in the street, the people in -the houses would run out in terror or amazement. All finer shades of -character would be lost; they would be merged, for the nonce, in the -common animal impulse. No; to truly study character, you must study<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> -men in the lesser and more ordinary circumstances of their lives; then -it is displayed untrammeled.”</p> - -<p>This may almost serve as a brief statement of his theory in literature, -which has been the cause, of late, of such heated discussion in two -hemispheres. And if a man is to be judged by the circumstances of his -daily life, surely it is no more than fair to apply the method to its -advocate himself. There is nothing cobwebby, no dust of antiquity, -nor medievalism, in this study and library; it is almost as modern in -effect as Silas Lapham’s famous warehouse of mineral paints. Howells -has “let the dead past bury its dead”; he is intensely concerned with -the present and the future. The strong light from the windows shows in -the cases only a random series of books in ephemeral-looking bindings. -There are Baedecker’s guides, dictionaries, pamphlets, and current -fiction. The only semblance of a “collection” in which he indulges is -some literature of foreign languages, which he uses as his tools. He -has done lately the great service of introducing to us many of the -masterpieces of modern Italian and Spanish fiction, in his Editor’s -Study in <i>Harper’s Magazine</i> also. He was long preparing, and -has lately published, a series of papers on the modern Italian poets. -He cares nothing for bindings, or the rarities of the bibliophile’s -art. The only<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> feeling he is heard to express toward books, as such, -is that he does not like to see even the humblest of them abused. In -his house you find no noticeable blue china or Chippendale, no trace -of the bric-à-brac enthusiasm, of which we had occasion to speak at -the home of Aldrich. In his parlor are tables and chairs, perfectly -proper and comfortable, but worthy of no attention in themselves. -On the walls are some few old paintings from Florence, a pleasing -photograph or two, an original water-color by Fortuny, which has a -little history, and an engraving after Alma Tadema, presented by the -painter to the author. These are a concession to the fine arts, not a -surrender to them. Perhaps we may connect this as an indication with -the strong moral purpose of his books, his resolute refusal to postpone -the essential and earnest in conduct to the soft and decorative. He -proposes, at times, as the worldly will have it, ideals that seem -almost fantastically impracticable.</p> - -<p>I am speaking too much, perhaps, of this latest home, occupied for -so brief a time. It is not the only one in which he has ever dwelt. -Howells was born in Ohio in 1837. He was the son of a country editor. -He saw many hardships in those days, but there was influence enough to -have him appointed consul to Venice, under Lincoln. He married, while -still consul, a lady of a prominent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> Vermont Family. The newspapers -will have it from time to time that Mrs. Howells is a great critic -of and assistant in his works. I shall only say of this, that she is -of an agreeable character, and an intelligence and animation that -seem fully capable of it. On returning to this country he took up his -residence for a while in New York, and brightened the columns of <i>The -Nation</i> with some of its earliest literary contributions. He had -for some time written poems. These attracted the attention of Lowell, -who was editor of <i>The Atlantic</i>. He became <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Field’s assistant -in 1866, when the latter assumed the editorship, and in 1872 succeeded -to the chief place, in which he continued till 1881, when he resigned -it to be followed by Aldrich. During this time of editorship, he lived -mainly at Cambridge, first in a small house he purchased on Sacramento -Street, and later, for some years, in one on Concord Avenue, which he -built and still owns. This latter was a pleasant, serviceable cottage, -a good place to work, but with nothing particularly striking about -it. It was there I first saw him, having brought him, with due fear -and awe, my first novel, “Detmold.” But how little reason for awe it -proved there really was! Nobody was ever more courteous, unaffected and -reassuring than he. I remember we took a short walk afterwards, a part -of my way homeward. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> pretended, as we reached Harvard College, that -it would not be safe for me to entertain any opinions differing from -his own, on the mooted question of the heavy roof of the new Memorial -Hall, since the fate of my manuscript was in his dictatorial hands!</p> - -<p>From Cambridge he removed to the pretty suburb of Belmont, some five -miles out of Boston, to a house built for him by <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Charles Fairchild, -on that gentleman’s own estate. This house, called Red Top, from its -red roof and the red timothy grass in the neighborhood, was described -and pictured some years ago in <i>Harper’s Magazine</i>, in <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Lathrop’s article on Literary and Social Boston. As I recollect it, -this was the most elaborate of his several abodes. There were carried -out many of the luxurious decorative features so essential according -to the modern ideal. He had a study done in white in the colonial -taste, and a square entrance-hall with benches and fire-place; but -I fancy, even here, he enjoyed most the wide view from his windows, -and his walks in the hilly country. It was the eye of the imagination -rather than of the body that with him most sought gratification. He -lived on the hillside at Belmont four years. His moving away from there -about coincides with the time of his giving up the editing of <i>The -Atlantic</i>. He went abroad with his family,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> remained a year, and -then returned to Boston. It will be seen that he has not shown much -more than the usual American fixity of residence, and perhaps we need -not despair of his finally coming to New York, to which many of his -later interests would seem to call him.</p> - -<p>With his retirement from the burden of editing begins, as many think, a -new and larger period in his literary work. I am not to touch upon his -original theories of literary art, or to interpret the much talked-of -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mot</i> on Dickens and Thackeray. As to the latter, I know that so -magnanimous and appreciative a nature as his could never have really -intended to cast a slur upon exalted merit. He has an intense delight -in human life, as it is lived, and not as represented by historians or -antiquarians, or colored by conventional or academic tradition of any -kind. He is still so young a man and so powerful a genius that it may -well be a yet grander period is opening before him. For my own part, I -never quite get over the liking for the “Robinson Crusoe” touch, the -“once upon a time,” the poem, as it were, in the fiction I read, and -I think shall continue to like best of his stories “The Undiscovered -Country,” in which the feeling of romance—together with all the -reality of life—most prevails. However this may be, I cannot always -repress a certain impatience that there should be any who fail to see -his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> extraordinary ability; it seems to me it can only be because there -is some veil before their eyes, because they have not put themselves in -the way of taking the right point of view. Whether we like it best of -all fiction or not, where are we to find another who works with such -power? Where, if we deny him the first place, zealously look up all his -defects, and take issue with him on a dozen minor points, are we to -find another so original and creative a writer?</p> - -<p>He writes only in the morning, his work being done conscientiously -and with painstaking. After that he devotes himself to his family, to -whom he is greatly attached, and of whom he is justly proud. Besides -a son, who is to be an architect, there is a daughter, who inclines -to the literary taste; and another, a sweet-faced little maid, known -to fame through the publication of a series of her remarkable, naïve, -childish drawings, in the volume entitled “A Little Girl Among the Old -Masters.” Their father is not a voluble talker; he does not aspire to -shine; there is little that is Macaulayish, there are few <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tours de -force</i> in his conversation. On the other hand, he has what some one -has described as the dangerous trait of being an excellent listener. It -might be said of him, as it was of Mme. Récamier, that he listens with -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">séduction</i>.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> He is not bent upon displaying his own resources, -but possibly upon penetrating the mind and heart before him. Perhaps -this is the natural, receptive mood of the true student of character. -And then it is all so gracefully done, with such a sympathy and tact, -that when, afterwards, you come to reflect that you have been talking -a great deal too much for your own good, there comes, too, with the -flush, the reassuring fancy that perhaps, after all, you have done it -pretty well. His own conversation I should call marked by sincerity of -statement and earnestness in speculation, at the same time that it is -brightened by the most genial play of humor. His humor warms like the -sunshine; we all know how steely cold may be the brilliancy of mere -wit. He is a humorist, I sometimes think, almost before everything -else. He takes to the humorists (even those of the broader kind) with -a kindred feeling. Both Mark Twain and Warner have been his intimate -friends. He wanted to know Stockton and Gilbert before he had met -them. In this connection, I may close, apropos of him, with one of -the slighter <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bons mots</i> of Gilbert. On the first visit of that -celebrity to this country, in company with his collaborator, Sullivan, -he chanced to ask me something about the works of Howells. In reply, I -mentioned among others “Their Wedding Journey”—a book that every young -couple<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> put into their baggage when starting off on the tour. “Sullivan -and I are not such a very young couple,” returned Gilbert, “but I think -we’ll have to put one into our baggage, too.”</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">William Henry Bishop.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>[<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Howells now lives in apartments in New York, where he is editor -of “The Easy Chair” in <i>Harper’s Monthly</i> and a contributor to -various magazines.—<span class="smcap">Editors.</span>]</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">CHARLES GODFREY LELAND</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHARLES_GODFREY_LELAND">CHARLES GODFREY LELAND<br><span class="small">IN PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON</span></h2></div> - - -<p>To describe the home of a homeless man is not over easy. For the last -sixteen or eighteen years <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland has been as great a wanderer as -the gypsies of whom he loves to write. During this time he has pitched -his tent, so to speak, in many parts of America and Europe and even of -the East. He has gone from town to town and from country to country, -staying here a month and there a year, and again in some places, as -in London and Philadelphia, he has remained several years. But, as he -himself graphically says, it is long since he has not had trunks in his -bedroom.</p> - -<p>However, if to possess a house is to have a home, then <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Leland must not be said to be homeless. He owns a three-storied, -white-and-green-shuttered, red-brick house with marble steps, of that -conventional type which is so peculiarly a feature of Philadelphia—his -native town. It is in Locust Street above Fifteenth—one of the -eminently respectable and convenient neighborhoods for which -Philadelphia is famous, with <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> Mark’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span> Church near at hand and a -public school not far off. But besides this respectability which -Philadelphians in general hold so dear, Locust Street boasts of another -advantage of far more importance to <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland in particular. Just here -it is without the horse-car track which stretches from one end to the -other of almost all Philadelphia streets, and hence it is a pleasant, -quiet quarter for a literary man. Here <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland lived for just six -months, surrounded by all sorts of quaint ornaments and oddities -(though it was then years before the mania for bric-à-brac had set in), -and by his books, these including numbers of rare and racy volumes -from which he has borrowed so many of the quotations which give an Old -World color and piquancy to his writings. It was while he was living -in his Locust Street home that his health broke down. His illness was -the result of long, almost uninterrupted newspaper work. He had worked -on the <i>Bulletin</i> and on New York and Boston papers, and he had -edited <i>Vanity Fair</i>, <i>The Continental Monthly</i>, <i>Grahams -Magazine</i> and Forney’s <i>Press</i>. In addition to this regular -work, he had found time to translate Heine, to write his “Sunshine -in Thought,” his “Meister Karl’s Sketch-book,” and his “Breitmann -Ballads,” which had made him known throughout the English-speaking -world as one of the first living English humorists. But now he was -obliged to give up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> all literary employments, and, having inherited an -independent fortune from his father, he was able to shut up his house -and go on a pleasure-trip to Europe, where he began the wanderings -which have not yet ceased.</p> - -<p>Nowadays, therefore, one might well ask, “Where is his home?—in a -Philadelphia hotel or lodgings, or at the Langham, in London—in a -gypsy tent, or in an Indian wigwam?—on the road, or in the town?” -But, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">ubi bene, ibi patria</i>; where a man is happy, there is his -country; and his home too, for that matter; and <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland, if he has -his work, is happy in all places and at all times; and furthermore, -ever since his health was re-established, he has found or made work -where-ever he has been. He is a man who is never idle for a minute, -and he counts as the best and most important work of his life that -which has occupied him during the last few years. Consequently, -paradoxical as it may sound, even in his wanderings he has always been -at home. During the eleven years he remained abroad he lived in so -many different places it would be impossible to enumerate them all. -He spent a winter in Russia; another in Egypt; he summered on the -Continent, and in the pretty villages or gay seashore towns of England. -At times his principal headquarters were in London, now at the Langham -and now at Park Square. It was at this latter residence<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span> that he gave -Saturday afternoon receptions, at which one was sure to meet the most -eminent men and women of the literary and artistic world of London, and -which will not soon be forgotten by those who had the pleasure to be -bidden to them. The first part of his last book about the gypsies is a -pleasant, but still imperfect, guide to his wanderings of this period. -There, in one paper, we find him spending charming evenings with the -fair Russian gypsies in <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> Petersburg; in another, giving greeting -to the Hungarian Romanies who played their wild <i>czardas</i> at the -Paris Exposition. Or we can follow his peaceful strolls through the -English meadows and lanes near Oatlands Park, or his adventures with -his not over-respectable but very attractive friends at the Hampton -races. One gypsy episode carries him to Aberistwyth, a second to -Brighton, a third to London streets or his London study. Thus he tells -the tale, as no one else could, of his life on the road.</p> - -<p>In December, 1878, he returned to Philadelphia, where he established -himself in large and pleasant rooms in Broad Street, not knowing -how long he might stay in America, and unwilling, because of this -uncertainty, to settle down in his own house. He lived there, however, -for four years and a half, travelling but little save in the summer, -when, to escape from the burning brick-oven<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span> which Philadelphia becomes -at that season, he fled to Rye Beach or to the White Mountains, to -Mount Desert or to far Campobello, in New Brunswick, where, in the -tents almost hidden by the sweet pine woods, he listened to the -Algonkin legends which he published in book form three or four years -ago. The house in which he made his home for the time being is a large -red brick mansion on the left side of Broad Street, between Locust -and Walnut streets. His apartments were on the ground floor, and the -table at which he worked, writing his Indian book or making the designs -for the series of art manuals he was then editing, was drawn close to -one of the windows looking out upon the street. There, between the -hours of nine and one in the morning, he was usually to be found. From -the street one could in passing catch a glimpse of the fine strong -head which so many artists have cared to draw, and which Le Gros has -etched; of the long gray beard, and of the brown velveteen coat—not -that famous coat to which <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland bade so tender a farewell in his -gypsy book, but another, already endeared to him by many a lively -recollection of gypsy camps and country fairs. Here there was little -quiet to be had. Broad Street is at all times noisy, and it is moreover -the favorite route for all the processions, military or political, -by torchlight or by daylight, that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span> ever rejoice the hearts of -Philadelphia’s children. It is a haunt, too, of pitiless organ-grinders -and importunate beggars. Well I remember the wretched woman who set -up her stand, and her tuneless organ, but a few steps beyond <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Leland’s window, grinding away there day after day, indifferent to -expostulations and threats, until at last the civil authorities had -to be appealed to. For how much unwritten humor, for how many undrawn -designs, she is responsible, who can say? But then, on the other hand, -the window had its advantages. Stray gypsies could not pass unseen, and -from it friendly tinkers could be easily summoned within. But for this -post of observation I doubt if Owen Macdonald, the tinker, would have -paid so many visits to <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland’s rooms, and hence if he would have -proved so valuable an assistant in the preparation of the dictionary of -<i>shelta</i>, or tinker’s talk, a Celtic language lately discovered by -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland. “Pat” (or Owen) was a genuine tinker, and “no tinker was -ever yet astonished at anything.” He never made remarks about the room -into which he was invited, but I often wondered what he thought of it, -with its piles of books and drawings and papers, and its walls covered -with grotesquely decorated placques and strange musical instruments, -from a lute of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland’s own fashioning to a Chinese mandolin, -its mantel-shelf<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span> and low book-cases crowded with Chinese and Hindu -deities, Venetian glass, Etruscan vases, Indian birch-bark boxes, and -Philadelphia pottery of striking form and ornament. It had been but an -ordinary though large parlor when <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland first moved into it, but -he soon gave it a character all its own, surrounding himself with a -few of his pet household gods, the others with his books being packed -away in London and Philadelphia warehouses waiting the day when he will -collect them together and set them up in a permanent home.</p> - -<p>The reason <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland remained so long in the Broad Street house was -because he was interested in a good work which detained him year -after year in Philadelphia. While abroad he had seen and studied many -things besides gypsies, and he had come home with new ideas on the -subject of education, to which he immediately endeavored to give active -expression. His theory was that industrial pursuits could be made a -part of every child’s education, and that they must be comparatively -easy. The necessity of introducing some sort of hand-work into public -school education had long been felt by the Philadelphia School Board, -and indeed by many others throughout the country. It had been proved -that to teach trades was an impossibility. It remained for <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland -to suggest that the principles of industrial<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span> or decorative art could -be readily learned by even very young children at the same time that -they pursued their regular studies. He laid his scheme before the -school directors, and they, be it said to their credit, furnished him -with ample means for the necessary experiment. This was so successful, -that before the end of the first year the number of children sent to -him increased from a mere handful to one hundred and fifty. Before he -left America there were more than three hundred attending his classes. -It is true that Pestalozzi and Fröbel had already arrived at the same -theory of education. But, as Carl Werner has said, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland was the -first person in Europe or America who seriously demonstrated and proved -it by practical experiment.</p> - -<p>These classes were held at the Hollingsworth schoolhouse in Locust -Street above Broad, but a few steps from where he lived. It is simply -impossible not to say a few words here about it, since <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland was -as much at home in the schoolhouse as in his own rooms. Four afternoons -every week were spent there. On Tuesdays and Thursdays he himself gave -lessons in design to the school children, going from one to the other -with an interest and an attention not common even among professional -masters. When, after the rounds were made, there were a few minutes to -spare—which did not often happen—he went<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span> into the next room, where -other children were busy under teachers, working out their own designs -in wood or clay or leather. I think in many of the grotesques that were -turned out from that modeling table—in the frogs and the serpents and -sea-monsters twining about vases, and the lizards serving as handles to -jars—<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland’s influence could be easily recognized. On Saturdays -he was again there, superintending a smaller class of <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">repoussé</i> -workers. In England he had found what could really be done by cold -hammering brass on wood, and in America he popularized this discovery. -When he first began to teach the children, this sort of work being as -yet little known, I remember there was one boy, rather more careless -but more businesslike than his fellow-hammerers, who during his summer -holidays made over two hundred and eighteen dollars by beating out on -placque after placque a few designs (one an Arabic inscription), which -he had borrowed from <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland. But after the children’s class was -enlarged and a class was started at the Ladies’ Decorative Art Club -established by <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland, work had to be more careful and original to -be profitable. On Mondays the Decorative Art Club engaged <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland’s -time, many of its members meeting to learn design in the Hollingsworth -school-rooms, which were larger and better lighted than those in their -club-house. This club, which in its second<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> year had no less than -two hundred members, also owes its existence entirely to <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland, -who is still its president. When it is remembered that both in the -school and in the club he worked from pure motives of interest in his -theory and its practical results, and with no other object in view but -its ultimate success, the extent of his earnestness and zeal may be -measured.</p> - -<p>It may be easily understood that this work, together with his literary -occupations, left him little time for recreation. But still there -were leisure hours; and in the fresh springtime it was his favorite -amusement to wander from the city to the Reservoir, with its pretty -adjoining wood beyond Camden, or to certain other well-known, shady, -flowery gypseries in West Philadelphia or far-out Broad Street, where -he knew a friendly <i>Sarshan?</i> (“How are you?”) would be waiting -for him. Or else on cold winter days, when sensible Romanies had -taken flight to the South or were living in houses, he liked nothing -better than to stroll through the streets, looking in at shop-windows; -exchanging a few words in their vernacular with the smiling Italians -selling chestnuts and fruit at street corners, or stray Slavonian -dealers (Slovak or Croat) in mouse- and rat-traps, or with other -“interesting varieties of vagabonds”; stopping in bric-à-brac shops -and meeting their German-Jew owners with a brotherly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span> “<i>Sholem -aleichem!</i>” and bargaining with unmistakable familiarity with the -ways of the trade; or else, perhaps, ordering tools and materials, -buying brass and leather for his classes. Indeed, he was scarcely less -constant to Chestnut Street than Walt Whitman or <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Boker. But while -Walt Whitman in his daily walks seldom went above Tenth Street, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Leland seldom went below it, turning there to go to the Mercantile -Library, which he visited quite as often as the Philadelphia Library, -of which he has long been a shareholder; while <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Boker seemed to -belong more particularly to the neighborhood of Thirteenth or Broad -Street, where he was near the Union League and the Philadelphia Club. -Almost everybody must have known by sight these three men, all so -striking in personal appearance. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland rarely went out in the -evenings. Then he rested and was happy in his large easy chair, with -his cigar and his book. There never was such an insatiable reader, not -even excepting Macaulay. It was then, and is still, his invariable -custom to begin a book immediately after dinner and finish it before -going to bed, never missing a line; and he reads everything, from old -black-letter books to the latest volume of travels or trash, from -Gaboriau’s most sensational novel to the most abstruse philosophical -treatise. His reading is as varied as his knowledge.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span></p> - -<p>I have thus dwelt particularly on his life in Philadelphia, because, -during the four and a half years he spent there—a long period for him -to give to any one place—he had time to fall into regular habits and -to lead what may be called a home life; and also because his way of -living since he has been back in England has changed but slightly. He -now has his headquarters at the Langham. He still devotes his mornings -to literary work and many of his afternoons to teaching decorative art. -He is one of the directors of the Home Arts Society, which but for him -would never have been; Mrs. Jebb, one of its most zealous upholders, -having modeled the classes which led to its organization wholly upon -his system of instruction, and in coöperation with him. The society -has its chief office in the Langham chambers, close to the hotel; -there <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland teaches and works just as he did in the Hollingsworth -school-rooms. Lord Brownlow is the president of this association, Lady -Brownlow, his wife, taking an active interest in it; and <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Walter -Besant is the treasurer. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland is also the father or founder of -the famous Rabelais Club, in which the chair was generally taken by -the late Lord Houghton. For amusement, the Philadelphian now has all -London, of which he is as true a lover as either Charles Lamb or Leigh -Hunt was of old; and for reading purposes he has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span> the British Museum -and Mudie’s at his disposal; so in these respects it must be admitted -he is better off than he was in Philadelphia. He knows, too, all the -near and far gypsy haunts by English wood and wold, and he is certain -he will be heartily welcomed to the Derby or any country fair. But -he has many friends and admirers in England outside of select gypsy -circles. Unfortunately he has lost the two friends with whom he was -once most intimate, Prof. E. H. Palmer, the Arabic scholar, having been -killed by the Arabs, and <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Trubner, the publisher, having died while -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Leland was in America. Of his other numerous English acquaintances, -he is most frequently with <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Walter Besant, the novelist, and <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Walter Pollock, the editor of <i>The Saturday Review</i>, for whom he -occasionally writes a criticism or a special paper. However, despite -the many inducements that can be offered him, he goes seldom into -society. He prefers to give all his energies to the writing by which he -amuses so many readers, and to his good work in the cause of education.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Elizabeth Robins Pennell.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span></p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="JAMES_RUSSELL_LOWELL">JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL<br><span class="small">AT “ELMWOOD”</span></h2></div> - - -<p>Unfortunately, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Lowell is not at home. He is in his own country and -among his own people; but he is not at Elmwood. For nearly a decade now -his friends have ceased to pass under the portal of those great English -trees and find him by the chimney-fire, “toasting his toes,” or engaged -in less meditative tasks amid the light and shadow of his books. Loss -to them has been gain to us; for in the more open life of a man of the -world and of affairs, at Madrid and London, the public has seemed to -see him more intimately, and has been pleased to feel some share in his -honor as a representative American gentleman of what must be called an -ageing, if not the old, school. But for lovers of the author, as for -his neighbors and acquaintances and his contemporaries in literature, -Lowell is indissolubly set in Elmwood, and is not to be thought of -elsewhere except as in absence. There, sixty-seven years ago, when -Elmwood was but a part of the country landscape of old Cambridge, he -was born of an honorable family of the colonial time, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span> learned -his alphabet and accidence, and imbibed from the cultivated and solid -company that gathered about his father the simplicity of manners and -severe idealism of mind of which he continues the tradition; there, in -college days, he “read everything except his text-books,” and with his -<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">æquales</i> of the class of 1838 won a somewhat reluctant sonship -from a displeased <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Alma Mater</i>; being in his youth, as he once -remarked to the rebellious founders of <i>The Harvard Advocate</i>, -“something of a revolutionist myself”; and it was from there he went -out as far as Boston, to begin that legal career which was not to -end in the glory of a justice’s wig. And after the early volume of -poems was published and a kindly fire had exhausted the edition, and -when <i>The Pioneer</i>—what a name that was to gather into its -frontiersman-stroke Hawthorne, Story, Poe, Very and the brawny Mrs. -Browning!—had gone down in the first financial morass, still the -pleasant upper room at Elmwood, looking off over the sweep of the -Charles and the lines of the horizon-hills, was as far from being the -scene of forensic discussion as it was from taking its conversational -tone from the ancient clergymen who, with their long pipes, looked -down on the poet’s friends from an old panel over the fireplace. The -Bar has lost many a deserter to the Muses, and it was a settled thing -with the birds of Elmwood—and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span> the place is still a woodland city of -them—that although they “half-forgave his being human,” they would not -forgive his being a lawyer. So, Lowell kept to his walks in the country -and confided the knowledge of his haunts to the readers of his verses, -and from the beginning rhymed the nobler human tone with the notes of -nature; and he married, and many reminiscences remain, among the men of -that day of that brief happiness, one bright episode of which was his -Italian journey. The first series of “The Biglow Papers” appeared, and -so his literary life began definitely to share in public affairs and -to take on the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">quasi</i>-civic character which was to become more -and more his distinction, until it should reach its development, on -the side of his genius, in the patriotic odes, and its acknowledgment, -on the part of the people, in his offices of national trust. Seldom, -indeed, has the peculiar privacy of a poet’s life passed by so even and -natural a growth into the publicity and dignity of the great citizen’s.</p> - -<p>But, in the narrow space of this sketch, one must not crowd the lines; -and in the way of biography, of which little can be novel to the -reader, it is enough to recall to mind the general course of Lowell’s -life; how he founded <i>The Atlantic</i>, which was to prove a diary -of the contemporary literary age; and in the Lowell Institute first -displayed on a true scale the solidity<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span> and acuteness of his critical -scholarship, and gave material aid to the national cause and the war on -slavery, as he had always done, by his brilliant satire, his ambushing -humor and more marvelous pathos; and became the Harvard professor, -succeeding Longfellow; and after a residence in Leipsic settled again -at Elmwood to give fresh books to the world, and to be, perhaps, the -most memorable figure in the minds of several generations of Harvard -students. Nor can one leave unmentioned the more familiar features of -the social life in these years of his second marriage—a life somewhat -retired and quiet but filled full of amiability, wit and intellectual -delight, led partly in Longfellow’s study, or in the famous Saturday -Club, or in the weekly whist meetings, and partly in Elmwood itself. -That past lives in tradition and anecdotage, and in it Lowell appears -as the life and spirit of the wine, with a conversational play so rich -in substance and in allusion that, it is said, one must have heard and -seen with his own eyes and ears, before he can realize that what seems -the studied abundance and changeableness of his essays is in fact the -spontaneity of nature, the mother-tongue of the man.</p> - -<p>It will be expected, however, that the writer of this notice will -take the reader to the privacy of Elmwood itself, not in this general -way, but at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span> some particular time before its owner discontinued his -method of fire-side traveling under the care of safe and comfortable -household gods, and tempted the real ocean to find an eight-years’ -exile. The house—an old-fashioned, roomy mansion, set in a large -triangular wooded space, with grassy areas, under the brow of Mount -Auburn—has been familiarized through description and picture; and the -author himself, of medium height, well set, with a substantial form and -a strikingly attractive face, of light complexion, full eyes, mobile -and expressive features, with the beard and drooping mustache which -are so marked a trait of his picture, and now, like the hair, turning -gray,—he, too, is no stranger. Some ten years ago this figure, in -the “reefer” which he then wore, was well known in the college yard, -giving an impression of stoutness, and almost bluffness, until one -caught sight of the face with its half-recognition and good-will to -the younger men; and in his own study or on the leafy veranda of the -house, one perceived only the simplest elements of unconscious dignity, -the frankness of complete cultivation, and the perfect welcome. If -one passed into his home at that time he would have found a hall that -opened out into large rooms on either hand, the whole furnished in -simple and solid fashion, with a look that betokened long inhabitancy -by the family; and on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span> the left hand he would have entered the study -with its windows overlooking long green levels among the trees on the -lawn—for though the estate is not very extensive in this direction, -the planting has been such that the seclusion seems as inviolable as -in the more distant country. The attachment of its owner to these -“paternal acres” is sufficient to explain why when others left -Cambridge in summer—and then it is as quiet as Pisa—he still found it -“good enough country” for him; but besides this affection for the soil, -the landscape itself has a charm that would content a poet. To the rear -of this room, or rather of its chimney, for there was no partition, -was another, whose windows showed the grove and shrubbery at the back -toward the hill; and this view was perhaps the more peaceful.</p> - -<p>Here in these two rooms were the usual furnishings of a scholar’s -study—tables and easy-chairs, pictures and pipes, the whole lending -itself to an effect of lightness and simplicity, with the straw-matting -islanded with books and (especially in the further room) strewn with -scholar’s litter, from the midst of which one day the poet, in search -of “what might be there,” drew from nearly under my feet the manuscript -of Clough’s “Amours de Voyage.” The books filled the shelves upon -the wall, everywhere, and a library more distinctly gathered for -the mere love of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span> literature is not to be found. It is not large as -libraries go—some four thousand volumes. To tell its treasures would -be to catalogue the best works of man in many languages. Perhaps -its foundation-stone, in a sense, is a beautiful copy of the first -Shakspeare folio; Lord Vernon’s “Dante” is among the “tallest” volumes, -and there are many rare works in much smaller compass. The range in -English is perhaps the most sweeping, but the precious part to the -bibliophile is the collection, a very rich one, of the old French and -other romantic poetry. More interesting in a personal way are the -volumes one picks up at random, which are mile-stones of an active -literary life—old English romances, where the rivulet is not of the -text but of the blue-pencil, the preliminary stage of a trenchant essay -on some Halliwell, perhaps; or possibly some waif of a useless task, -like a reëdited “Donne,” to whose <i>manes</i> the unpoetic publisher -was unwilling to make a financial sacrifice. But the limit is reached. -That time in which the scene of this brief description is set, was the -last long summer that Lowell spent in Elmwood.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">George E. Woodberry.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>[<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Lowell died August 12, 1891.—<span class="smcap">Editors.</span>]</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">DONALD G. MITCHELL (IK MARVEL)</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="DONALD_G_MITCHELL_IK_MARVEL">DONALD G. MITCHELL (IK MARVEL)<br><span class="small">AT “EDGEWOOD”</span></h2></div> - - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell is eminently an “author at home.” There are many of -our popular writers—both citizens and country dwellers—whose -environment is a matter of comparative indifference to their readers. -But the farmer of Edgewood has taken the public so pleasantly into -his confidence, has welcomed them so cordially to his garden, his -orchard and his very hearthstone, that—in a literary sense—we -are all his guests and inmates. In the consulship of Plancus—as -Thackeray would say—we Freshmen, after our pilgrimage to that shrine -of liberty, the Judges’ Cave on West Rock, with its kakographic -inscription,—“Oposition [<i>sic</i>] to tyrants is obedience to -God,”—used to turn our steps southward to burn our youthful incense -upon the shrine of literature, and see whether the burs had begun to -open on the big chestnut trees that fringed Ik Marvel’s domain. In -those days the easiest approach was through the little village of -Westville, which nestles at the foot of the rock and seems, from a -distance, to lay its church-spire, like a white<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span> finger, against the -purple face of the cliff. The rustic gate at the northern corner of -Edgewood, whence a carriage road led to the ridge behind the house, -stood then invitingly open, and a printed notice informed the wayfarer -that the grounds were free to the public on Wednesday and Saturday -afternoons.</p> - -<p>Now, as then, the reveries and dreams of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell’s early books -continue to charm the fireside musings of many a college dreamer; and -successive generations of Freshmen still find their footsteps tending, -in the golden autumn afternoons of first term, toward the Edgewood -gates. But nowadays the pilgrim may take the Chapel Street horse-car at -the college fence, and after a ten minutes’ ride, dismounting at the -terminus of the line and walking a block to westward, he finds himself -at the brink of what our geologists call “the New Haven terrace.” -Thence the road descends into the water meadows, and, crossing on a new -iron bridge the brackish sluice known as West River, leads straight on -across a gravelly level, till it strikes, at a right angle, the foot of -the Woodbridge hills and the Old Codrington Road (now Forest Street). -On this road lies Edgewood, sloping to the east and south, lifted upon -a shelf of land above the river plain, while behind it the hill rises -steeply to the height of some hundred feet, and shuts off the west -with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span> the border of overhanging woods which gives the place its name.</p> - -<p>From his library window <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell can look across a little -foreground of well-kept dooryard, with blossoming shrubs and vines and -bright parterres of flowers set in the close turf; across a hemlock -hedge and a grass-bank sloping down to the road; across the road itself -and the flat below it, checkered with his various crops, to the spires -and roofs and elm-tops of New Haven and the green Fair Haven hills -in the eastern horizon. Southward, following the line of the river, -he sees the waters of the harbor, bounded by the white lighthouse on -its point of rock. Northward is the trap “dyke” or precipice of West -Rock, and northeastward, beyond the town, and dim with a violet haze, -the sister eminence, East Rock. From the driveway which traverses the -ridge behind the homestead the view is still wider and more distinct, -taking in the salt marshes through which West River flows down to the -bay, the village of West Haven to the south, and, beyond, the sparkling -expanse of the Sound and the sandhills of Long Island. Back of the -ridge, westward, stretches for miles a region which used to be known -to college walkers as “The Wilderness,” from its supposed resemblance -to the scene of Grant’s famous campaign: a region of scrubby woodland, -intersected with sled roads and cut<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span> over every few years for -fire-wood: a region—it may be said incidentally—dear to the hunters -of the fugacious orchid.</p> - -<p>The weather-stained old farmhouse described in “My Farm of Edgewood” -made way some dozen years ago for a tasteful mansion of masonry and -wood-work. The lower story of this is built of stone taken mostly -from old walls upon the farm. The doors and windows have an edging of -brick which sets off the prevailing gray with a dash of red. The upper -story is of wood. There are a steep-pitched roof with dormer-windows, -a rustic porch to the east, a generous veranda to the south, and -vines covering the stone. The whole effect is both picturesque and -substantial, graceful and homely at once. The front door gives entrance -to a spacious hall, flanked upon the south by the double drawing-rooms -and upon the north by the library, with its broad, low chimney opening, -its book-shelves and easy-chairs, its tables and desk and wide -mantel, covered and strewn in careless order with books, photographs, -manuscripts, and all the familiar litter of a scholar’s study. At the -rear of the hall is the long dining-room, running north and south, its -windows giving upon the grassy hillside to the west. A conspicuous -feature of this apartment is the full-length portrait, on the end wall, -of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell’s maternal grandfather, painted about the beginning of -the century, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span> representing its subject in the knee-breeches and -silk stockings of the period. Half-length portraits of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell’s -grandparents, painted about 1830, by Morse, the electrician, hang upon -the side wall of the dining-room, and an earlier portrait of his mother -surmounts the library mantel-piece. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell’s culture, it will be -seen, does not lack that ancestral background which <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Holmes thinks -so important to the New England Brahmin. Three generations of the -name adorn the pages of the Yale Triennial. His grandfather, Stephen -Mix Mitchell, graduated in 1763, was a Representative and Senator in -Congress and Chief Justice of Connecticut. His father, the <abbr title="reverend">Rev.</abbr> Alfred -Mitchell, graduated in 1809, was a Congregational minister at Norwich, -in which city <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell was born, April 12, 1822. The statement -has been made that “Doctor Johns” was a sketch from the <abbr title="reverend">Rev.</abbr> Alfred -Mitchell; but this is not true. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell’s father died when his -son was only eight years old, and though his theology was strictly -Calvinistic, his personality made no such impression upon the boy as to -enable him to reproduce it so many years after. Some features in the -character of “<abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Johns” were suggested by <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Hall, of Ellington, at -whose once famous school <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell was for some time a pupil. The -name of Donaldus G. Mitchell also appears on the Triennial Catalogue -for the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span> year 1792 as borne by a great-uncle of the present “Donaldus,” -who took his bachelor’s degree in 1841. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell’s mother was a -Woodbridge, and some four years since he completed an elaborate and -sumptuously-printed genealogy of that family, undertaken by his brother -but left unfinished at his death.</p> - -<p>The French windows of the drawing-room open upon the veranda to the -south, and this upon a lawny perspective which is at once an example -of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell’s skillful landscape-gardening and a surprise to the -stranger, who from the highway has caught only glimpses of sward and -shrubbery through the hedge and the fringe of trees. The Edgewood lawn -is a soft fold between the instep of the hill and the grassy bank that -hangs over the road and carries the hedgerow. It is not very extensive, -but the plantations of evergreens and other trees on either side are -so artfully disposed, advancing here in capes and retiring there in -bays and recesses, that the eye is lured along a seemingly interminable -vista of gentle swales and undulations, bordered by richly-varied -foliage, along the hillside farms beyond, and far into the heart of -the south. Here and there on the steep slope to the right, and high -above the lawn itself, are coppices of birch, hazel, alder, dogwood and -other native shrubs, brought together years ago and protected by little -enclosures, but now grown<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span> into considerable trees. North of the house -is the neatly-kept garden, with its beds of vegetables and flowers, -its rows of currant and gooseberry bushes, its box-edged alleys, and -back of all a tall hedge of hemlock, clipped to a dense, smooth wall of -dark green, starred with the lighter needles of this year’s growth. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Mitchell tells, with a pardonable pride, how he brought from the woods, -in two baskets, all the hemlocks which compose this beautiful screen. -He has two workshops,—his library and his garden; and of the two he -evidently loves the latter best, and works there every day before -breakfast in the cool hours of the morning.</p> - -<p>Edgewood has been identified with its present owner for a generation. -He was not always a farmer; but farming was his early passion, and -after several years of writing and wandering, he settled down here in -1855 and returned to his first love. On leaving college he went to -work on his grandfather’s farm near Norwich. He gained at this time -the prize of a silver cup from the New York Agricultural Society, for -plans of farm buildings. He became a correspondent of <i>The Albany -Cultivator</i> (now <i>The Country Gentleman</i>), contributing -letters from Europe during his first visit abroad, in 1844-6. This was -undertaken in search of health. He was threatened with consumption, -and winter found him at Torquay in the south of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span> England, suffering -from a distressing and persistent cough. From this he was relieved -after a violent fit of sea-sickness, while crossing the Channel to the -island of Jersey, where he spent half a winter. Another half-winter -was passed in tramping about England, and eighteen months on the -continent. These experiences of foreign travel furnished the material -for his first book, “Fresh Gleanings” (1847). After his return to this -country he studied law in New York, but the confinement was injurious -to his health, and in 1848 he went abroad a second time, traveling -in England and Switzerland and residing for a while in Paris. France -was on the eve of a revolution, and <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell’s impressions of the -time were recorded in his second book, “The Battle Summer” (1850). -Again returning to America, he took up his residence in New York, and -issued in weekly numbers “The Lorgnette; or, Studies of the Town, by -an Opera-Goer.” This was a series of satirical sketches, something -after the plan of Irving’s “Salmagundi” papers. They were signed by -an assumed name, and even the publisher was not in the secret of -their authorship. The intermediary in the business was William Henry -Huntington, who lately died in Paris, and who was known for many years -to all Americans sojourning in the French capital as an accomplished -gentleman and man of letters. The “Lorgnette” provoked much<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span> comment, -and among <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell’s collection of letters are many from his -publisher, detailing the guesses of eminent persons who called at his -shop to ascertain the authorship.</p> - -<p>The nucleus of the “Reveries of a Bachelor” was a paper contributed -to <i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>, and entitled “A Bachelor’s -Reverie, in Three Parts: 1. Smoke, signifying Doubt; 2. Blaze, -signifying Cheer; 3. Ashes, signifying Desolation.” <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell has -a bibliographical rarity in his library in the shape of a copy of -this first paper, in book form, bearing date Wormsloe, 1850, with the -following colophon: “This edition of twelve copies of the Bachelor’s -Reverie, by Ik: Marvel, hath been: by the Author’s Leave: printed -privately for George Wymberley Jones.” This <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Jones was a wealthy and -eccentric gentleman, who amused himself with a private printing-press -at his estate of Wormsloe, near Savannah. The “Reveries,” by the way, -has been by all odds its author’s most popular work, judged by the -unfailing criterion of “sales.” In 1851 <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell was invited by -Henry J. Raymond to edit the literary department of the <i>Times</i>, -then newly established; but the labor promised to be too exacting -for his state of health, and the offer was declined. In May, 1853, -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell was appointed Consul for the United States at Venice. -In June of the same<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span> year he was married to Miss Mary F. Pringle, of -Charleston, and sailed again for Europe to enter upon the duties of -his consulate. He was attracted to Venice by the opportunities for -historical study, and while there he began the collection of material -looking toward a history of the Venetian Republic. This plan never -found fulfilment, but traces of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell’s Venetian studies crop -out in many of his subsequent writings; especially, perhaps, in his -lecture on “Titian and his Times,” read before the Art School of Yale -College, and included in his latest volume, “Bound Together” (1884). In -1854 he resigned his consulate, and in July of the following year, he -purchased Edgewood.</p> - -<p>During the past thirty-three years <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell has led the enviable -life of a country gentleman—a life of agriculture tempered by -literature and diversified by occasional excursions into the field of -journalism. He has seen his numerous children grow up about him; he -has entertained at his charming home many of our most distinguished -<i>literati</i>; and he has kept open his communication with the -reading public by a series of books and contributions to the periodical -press, on farming, landscape-gardening, and the practical and æsthetic -aspects of rural life. He edited “The Atlantic Almanac” for 1868 and -1869, and in the latter year accepted the editorship<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</span> of <i>Hearth and -Home</i>—a position which made it necessary for him to spend a part -of every week in New York. He was one of the judges of industrial art -at the Centennial Exhibition of 1876, and Commissioner from the United -States at the Paris Exposition of 1878. His taste and experience in -landscape-gardening have been called into play in the laying-out of -the city park at East Rock, and at many private grounds in New Haven -and elsewhere. Of late years the University has had the benefit of his -services in one way and another. He has been one of the Council of the -School of Fine Arts, since the establishment of that department, and -has lectured before the School. In the fall and winter of 1884, he -delivered a course of lectures on English literature to the students -of the University; and the crowd of eager listeners that attended -the series to the close showed that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell had not lost that -power of interesting and delighting young men which gave such wide -currency to his “Reveries of a Bachelor” and “Dream Life” a generation -ago. Among the other lectures and addresses delivered on various -occasions—several of which are collected in “Bound Together,”—special -mention may be made of the address on Washington Irving, which formed -one of the pleasantest features of the centennial celebration at -Tarrytown in 1883. Irving not only honored<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</span> <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell with his -personal friendship, but he was, in a sense, his literary master. For -different as are the subjects upon which the two have written, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Mitchell, more truly than any other American writer, has inherited -the literary tradition of Irving’s time and school. There is the same -genial and sympathetic attitude toward his readers; the same tenderness -of feeling; and, in style, that gentle elaboration and that careful, -high-bred English which contrasts so strikingly with the brusque, -nervous manner now in fashion. Among the treasures of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell’s -correspondence, none, I will venture to say, are more highly valued by -him than the letters from Washington Irving, although the collection -contains epistles from Hawthorne, Holmes, Dickens, Greeley, and many -other distinguished men. Other interesting <i>memorabilia</i> are the -roughly drawn plans of Bayard Taylor’s house and grounds at “Kennett,” -which the projector sketched for his host during his last visit at -Edgewood.</p> - -<p>In appearance <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell is rather under than over the average -height, broad-shouldered and squarely shaped, the complexion fresh and -ruddy, the nose slightly aquiline, the lips firmly shut, the glance of -the eye kindly but keen. The engraving in <i>The Eclectic Magazine</i> -for September, 1867, still gives an excellent idea of its subject, -though the dark, luxuriant whiskers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</span> there pictured are now a decided -gray. It may not be generally know that, besides German translations of -several of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Mitchell’s books, his “Reveries” and “Dream Life” have -been reprinted in Germany in Dürr’s Collection of Standard American -Authors.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Henry A. Beers.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</span></p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</span></p> - -<p class="center xbig">FRANCIS PARKMAN</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="FRANCIS_PARKMAN">FRANCIS PARKMAN<br><span class="small">IN JAMAICA PLAIN AND IN BOSTON</span></h2></div> - - -<p>The surroundings and experiences of Francis Parkman were, in some -respects, very happily in accord with his aims and achievements, and -in other respects as unfortunate as one could imagine. His home in -childhood was near the forest of the Middlesex Fells, Massachusetts; -and his wanderings and shootings in those woods early developed the -two leading interests of his youth—the woods and the Indian. When his -literary taste and ambition were aroused, in Harvard, he chose as his -topic the French and Indian or Seven Years’ War, because it dealt with -these favorite subjects, and, moreover, appealed to his strong sense -of the picturesque. The die was thus cast; and thereafter, through -college, through the law school, indeed through life, it molded his -existence. For some years his reading, study, and vacation journeys all -had a bearing on that particular subject. On leaving college he was -troubled with an abnormal sensibility of the retina, which restricted -the use of his eyes within very narrow limits. As it was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</span> apparent, -therefore, that he could not then collect the vast body of materials -required for the history of that war, he concluded to take up, as a -preparatory work in the same direction, the conspiracy of Pontiac. In -accordance with his plan pursued in studying all of his topics, he -visited the localities concerned, and, where it was possible, saw the -descendants of the people to be described. Not content with seeing -the semi-civilized Indians, he went to the Rocky Mountains, in 1846, -lived a while with the Ogallalla Sioux, visited some other tribes, and -studied the character, manners, customs and traditions of the wildest -of the Indians. But he bought this invaluable experience at a dear -price; for while with these tribes on the hunt and the war-path he -was attacked by an acute disorder, and being unable to rest and cure -himself, his constitution was nearly ruined as well as his eyesight. -However, he returned safe if not sound from his perilous journey, and -wrote “The Oregon Trail” (1847) and “The Conspiracy of Pontiac” (1851) -by the help of readers and an amanuensis. He had now to settle himself -in the prospect of years of ill-health and perhaps blindness.</p> - -<p>In 1854 he bought a property on the edge of Jamaica Pond, and -established himself and his family there in the woods and on the -shore of a beautiful sheet of water—surroundings congenial to his -fancy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</span> and his restrained ambition. About ten years of his life, in -periods of two or three years, passed as a blank in literary labor; -and during the remainder of the time, frequent and long interruptions -broke the line of his efforts. Such an experience at the opening of -his career would have been unendurable without some absorbing pursuit; -and having a favorable site for gardening and an unfailing love of -nature, he took up the study of horticulture. By 1859 it had become his -chief occupation—one that filled happily several years, and to the -last occupied more or less time according to the amount of literary -work he could do. His labors were made fruitful to the public in a -professorship at the Bussey Institution, the publication of “The Book -of Roses” in 1866, the presidency of the Massachusetts Horticultural -Society, and in careful experiments extending over ten or twelve years -in the hybridization of lilies and other flowers. Among the most noted -of his floral creations is the magnificent <i>lilium Parkmanni</i>, -named by the English horticulturist who purchased the stock. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Parkman’s summer home, at the Pond, was a plain but sunny and cheerful -house, in the midst of a garden sloping down to the water; his study -window looked to the north, the light least trying to sensitive eyes. -The charming site, the landscapes about, the greenhouse and grounds in -summer full of rare flowers, were the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</span> chief interests of the place; -for his library and principal workshop were in Boston. As much exercise -was necessary to him, he was a familiar figure in this pretty suburb of -the city, either riding on horseback, rowing on the pond, or walking in -the fields and woods.</p> - -<p>But in the midst of all these discouraging delays and extraneous -occupations, his literary aims were not forgotten; he pushed on, when -he could, his investigations and composition by the help of readers and -an amanuensis. Those who are unacquainted with the labor of historic -research can scarcely imagine the difficulty, extent, and tedium -of his investigations. The reader can glance over a book and pick -out the needle he seeks in the haystack; but he who uses another’s -eyes must examine carefully the entire stack in order not to miss a -possible needle. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Parkman’s ground has been won inch by inch. On -finishing “The Conspiracy of Pontiac,” he had extended his first plan -of writing the Seven Years’ War, and determined to take up the entire -subject of French colonization in North America; and instead of making -a continuous history, to write a series of connected narratives. He -therefore continued, and extended, his journeys for investigation, in -this country, in Canada, and in Europe; and by the help of readers and -copyists he selected and acquired the necessary documents.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</span> But even -with all the aid possible, the preparation of the first volume of the -series consumed fourteen years. “The Pioneers of France in the New -World” appeared in 1865, “The Jesuits in North America” in 1867, “La -Salle and the Discovery of the Great West” in 1869, “The Old Régime in -Canada” in 1874, “Frontenac and New France under Louis XIV.” in 1877, -“Montcalm and Wolfe” in 1884.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Parkman’s winter home, where he did the most of his work, was in -the house of his sister, Miss Parkman, at 50 Chestnut Street, Boston—a -quiet locality on the western slope of Beacon Hill. His study was a -plain, comfortable, front room at the top of the house, with an open -fire, a small writing-table beside the window, and shelves of books -covering the walls. The most valuable of his treasures were manuscript -copies of both public and private documents. For the sake of greater -safety and more general usefulness he parted with some of these -manuscripts—gave a lot of <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fac-simile</i> maps to Harvard College, -and a collection of thirty-five large volumes to the Massachusetts -Historical Society. The latter embrace eight volumes of documents from -the Archives of Marine and Colonies and other archives of France, -relating to Canada, from 1670 to 1700; twelve volumes from the same -sources, from 1748 to 1763; four volumes from the Public Record<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</span> Office -of London, from 1750 to 1760; one volume from the National Archives -of Paris, from 1759 to 1766; one volume from the British Museum, from -1751 to 1761; one volume of diverse letters to Bourlamaque by various -officers in Canada during the war of 1755-63; one volume of letters -to the same by Montcalm while in Canada (Montcalm had requested -Bourlamaque to burn them, but <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Parkman, fifteen years before he -could find them, believed in their existence, and finally discovered -them in a private collection of manuscripts); one volume of Montcalm’s -private letters to his wife and his mother, written while he was in -America—obtained from the present Marquis de Montcalm; and one volume -of Washington’s letters to Colonel Bouquet, from the British Museum. -The most recent publication, “Montcalm and Wolfe,” takes in twenty-six -of these volumes, besides a large lot of printed matter and notes made -at the sources of information. The above collection constitutes about -half of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Parkman’s manuscripts. A considerable part of them cannot -be estimated by pages and volumes, being unbound notes and references -representing a vast amount of research. Two sets of copyists sent him -from France and England copies of the papers he designated.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Parkman’s experience offers a valuable and encouraging example in -the history of literature.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</span> On the one side he had poor health and -poor sight for a vast amount of labor; on the other he had money, -time, capacity, a tough, sinewy, physique, a resistant, calm, cheerful -temper, and an indomitable perseverance and ambition. As in some other -cases, his disabilities seem to have been negative advantages, if we -may judge by his productions; for his frequent illnesses, by retarding -his labors, increased his years and experience before production, and -forced the growth of departments of knowledge generally neglected by -students. He was led to give equal attention to observing nature, -studying men, and digesting evidence. His studies and manual labors -in horticulture and his practical familiarity with forest life and -frontier life quickened his sympathy with nature. His extensive travels -gave him a wide knowledge of life, manners, and customs, from the -wigwam to the palace. Far from being a recluse, he was, until his death -in 1893, a man of the world, often locked out of his closet and led -into practical and public interests (for six years he was President -of the <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> Botolph Club of Boston, and for ten years one of the seven -members of the Corporation of Harvard University). He was naturally -a student of men, and a keen observer of character and motives. -His discouraging interruptions from literary work, while not often -stopping the above studies, forced upon him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</span> time for reflection, for -weighing the evidence he collected, and for perfecting the form of -his works. Doubtless human achievements do proceed from sources more -interior than exterior; but the circumstances of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Parkman’s life -must have conduced to the realism, strength, and picturesqueness of -his descriptions; to the distinctness of his characters, their motives -and actions; to the thoroughness of his investigations; and to the -impartiality of judgment and the truth of perspective in his histories.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">C. H. Farnham.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">GOLDWIN SMITH</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="GOLDWIN_SMITH">GOLDWIN SMITH<br><span class="small">AT “THE GRANGE”</span></h2></div> - - -<p>Beverly Street, though it lies in the heart of the city, is one of the -most fashionable quarters of Toronto. About the middle of its eastern -side a whole block is walled off from curious eyes by a high, blank -fence, behind which rises what seems a bit of primeval forest. The -trees are chiefly fir-trees, mossed with age, and sombre; and in the -midst of their effectual privacy, with sunny tennis-lawns spread out -before its windows, is The Grange. The entrance to the grounds is in -another street, Grange Road, where the fir-trees stand wide apart, and -the lawns stretch down to the great gates standing always hospitably -open. The house itself is an old-fashioned, wide-winged mansion of -red brick, low, and ample in the eaves, its warm color toned down by -the frosts of many Canadian winters to an exquisite harmony with the -varying greens which surround it. The quaint, undemonstrative doorway, -the heavy, dark-painted hall-door, the shining, massy knocker, and -the prim side-windows,—all savor delightfully of <i>United<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</span> Empire -Loyalist</i> days. Just such fit and satisfactory architecture this as -we have fair chance of finding wherever the makers of Canada came to -a rest from their flight out of the angry, new-born republic. As the -door opens one enters a dim, roomy hall, full of soft brown tints and -suggestion of quiet, the polished floor made noiseless with Persian -rugs. On the right hand open the parlors, terminated by an octagonal -conservatory. The wing opposite is occupied by the dining-room and a -spacious library.</p> - -<p>The dining-room has a general tone of crimson and brown, and its walls -are covered with portraits in oil of the heroes of the Commonwealth. -Milton, Cromwell, Hampden, Pym, Vane, <i>et al.</i>—they are all -there, gazing down severely upon the well-covered board. The abstemious -host serenely dines beneath that Puritan scrutiny; but to me it has -always seemed that a collection of the great cavaliers would look on -with a sympathy more exhilarating. From here a short passage leads -to the ante-room of the library, which, like the library itself, is -lined to the ceiling with books. At the further end of the library -is the fireplace, under a heavy mantel of oak, and near it stands a -massive writing-desk, of some light colored wood. A smaller desk, close -by, is devoted to the use of the gentleman who acts as librarian and -secretary. The ample windows are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</span> all on one side, facing the lawn; -and the centre of the room is held by a billiard-table, which, for the -most part, is piled with the latest reviews and periodicals. The master -of The Grange is by no means an assiduous player, though he handles -the cue with fair skill. In such a home as this, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Goldwin Smith may -be considered to have struck deep root into Canadian soil; and as his -wife, whose bright hospitality gives The Grange its highest charm, is -a Canadian woman, he has every right to regard himself as identified -with Canada. In person, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Smith is very tall, straight, spare; his -face keen, grave, almost severe; his iron-gray hair cut close; his -eyes restless, alert, piercing, but capable at times of an unexpected -gentleness and sweetness; his smile so agreeable that one must the -more lament its rarity. The countenance and manner are preëminently -those of the critic, the investigator, the tester. As he concerns -himself earnestly in all our most important public affairs, his general -appearance, through the medium of the Toronto <i>Grip</i>, our Canadian -<i>Punch</i>, has come to be by no means unfamiliar to the people of -Canada.</p> - -<p>In becoming a Canadian, Goldwin Smith has not ceased to be an -Englishman; he has also desired to become an American, by the -way. He holds his English audience through the pages<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</span> of <i>The -Contemporary</i> and <i>The Nineteenth Century</i>, and he addresses -Americans for some weeks every year from a chair in Cornell University. -In Canada he chooses to speak from behind an extremely diaphanous -veil—the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">nom de plume</i> of “A Bystander”; and under this name he -for some time issued a small monthly (changed to a quarterly before -its discontinuance), which was written entirely by himself, and -treated of current events and the thought of the hour. That periodical -has now been succeeded by <i>The Week</i>, to which the Bystander -has been a contributor since the paper was founded. It were out of -place to speak here of Goldwin Smith’s career and work in England; -it would be telling, too, what is pretty widely known. In Canada his -influence has been far deeper than is generally imagined, or than, -to a surface-glance, would appear. On his first coming here he was -unfairly and relentlessly attacked by what was at the time the most -powerful journal in Canada, the Toronto <i>Globe</i>; and he has not -lacked sharp but irregular antagonism ever since. Somewhat relentless -himself, as evinced by his attitude toward the Irish and the Jews, -and having always one organ or another in his control, he has long -ago wiped out his score against the <i>Globe</i>, and inspired a good -many of his adversaries with discretion. He devotes all his energy -and time, at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</span> least so far as the world knows, to work of a more or -less ephemeral nature; and when urged to the creation of something -permanent, something commensurate with his genius, he is wont to reply -that he regards himself rather as a journalist than an author. He -would live not by books, but by his mark stamped on men’s minds. It -does, indeed, at first sight, surprise one to observe the meagreness -of his enduring literary work, as compared with his vast reputation. -There is little bearing his name save the volume of collected lectures -and essays—chief among them the perhaps matchless historical study -entitled “The Great Duel of the Seventeenth Century,”—and the keen but -cold monograph on Cowper contributed to the English Men-of-Letters. -His visible achievement is soon measured, but it would be hard to -measure the wide-reaching effects of his influence. Now, while a sort -of conservatism is creeping over his utterances with years, doctrines -contrary to those he used so strenuously to urge seem much in the -ascendant in England. But in Canada he has found a more plastic -material into which, almost without either our knowledge or consent, -his lines have sunk deeper. His direct teachings, perhaps, have not -greatly prevailed with us. He has not called into being anything like a -Bystander party, for instance, to wage war against party government,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</span> -and other great or little objects of his attack. For this his genius -is not synthetic enough—it is too disintegrating. But his influence -pervades all parties, and has proved a mighty shatterer of fetters -amongst us—a swift solvent of many cast-iron prejudices. He has -opened, liberalized, to some extent deprovincialized, our thought, -and has convinced us that some of our most revered fetishes were -but feathers and a rattle after all. But he sees too many sides of -a question to give unmixed satisfaction to anybody. The Canadian -Nationalists, with whom he is believed to be in sympathy, owe him -both gratitude and a grudge. He has made plain to us our right to our -doctrines, and the rightness of our doctrines; he has made ridiculous -those who would cry “Treason” after us. But we could wish that he would -suffer us to indulge a little youthful enthusiasm, as would become -a people unquestionably young; and also that he would refrain from -showing us quite so vividly and persistently all the lions in our path. -We think we can deal with each as it comes against us. His words go far -to weaken our faith in the ultimate consolidation of Canada; he tends -to retard our perfect fusion, and is inclined to unduly exalt Ontario -at the expense of her sister Provinces. All these things trouble us, as -increasing the possibility of success for a movement<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</span> just now being -actively stirred in England, and toward which Goldwin Smith’s attitude -has ever been one of uncompromising antagonism—that is, the movement -toward imperial federation.</p> - -<p>Speaking of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Smith and Canadian Nationalism, as the Nationalist -movement is now too big to fear laughter, I may mention the sad fate -of the first efforts to institute such a movement. A number of years -ago, certain able and patriotic young men in Toronto established a -“Canada First” party, and threw themselves with zeal into the work of -propagandizing. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Smith’s cooperation was joyfully accepted, and he -joined the movement. But it soon transpired that it was the movement -which had joined him. In very fact, he swallowed the “Canada First” -party; and growing tired of propagandizing when he thought the time was -not ripe for it, and finding something else to do just then than assist -at the possibly premature birth of a nation, he let the busy little -movement fall to pieces. The vital germ, however, existed in every one -of the separate pieces, and has sprung up from border to border of the -land, till now it has a thousand centers, is clothed in a thousand -shapes, and is altogether incapable of being swallowed.</p> - -<p>As I am writing for an American audience, it may not be irrelevant to -say, before concluding,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</span> that while Goldwin Smith is an ardent believer -in, and friend of, the American people, he has at the same time but -a tepid esteem for the chief part of American literature. He rather -decries all but the great humorists, for whom, indeed, his admiration -is unbounded. He has a full and generous appreciation for the genius of -Poe. But he misses entirely the greatness of Emerson, allows to Lowell -no eminence save as a satirist, and is continually asking, privately, -that America shall produce a book. As he has not, however, made this -exorbitant demand as yet in printer’s ink, and over his sign and seal, -perhaps we may be permitted to regard it as no more than a mild British -joke.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Charles G. D. Roberts.</span><br> -<span style="margin-right: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Fredericton, N. B.</span></span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="EDMUND_C_STEDMAN">EDMUND C. STEDMAN<br><span class="small">IN NEW YORK AND AT “KELP ROCK”</span></h2></div> - - -<p>New York is an ugly city, with only here and there a picturesque -feature. Still the picturesque exists, if it be sought for in remote -corners. When about to choose a permanent home, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman did not -exile himself to the distance at which alone such advantages are to be -obtained. For he may be said to be the typical literary man of his day, -in that he is the man of his epoch, of his moment—of the very latest -moment. There is that in his personality which gives him the air of -constantly pressing the electric button which puts him in relation with -the civilized activities of the world. He was born man of the world as -well as poet, with a sensitive response to his age and surroundings -which has enabled him to touch the life of the day at many divergent -points of contact. He owes to an equally rare endowment, to his talent -for leading two entirely separate lives, his success in maintaining -his social life free from the influences of his career as an active -business man. The broker<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</span> is a separate and distinct person from the -writer and poet. The two, it is true, meet as one, on friendly terms, -on the street or at the club. But the man of Wall Street is entertained -with scant courtesy within the four walls of the poet’s house.</p> - -<p>Once within these, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman’s true life begins. It is an ardent, -productive, intellectual life, only to be intruded upon with impunity -by the insistent demands of his social instincts. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman has the -genius of good-fellowship. His delight in men is only second to his -delight in books. How he has found time for the dispensing of his -numerous duties as host and friend is a matter of calculation which -makes the arithmetic of other people’s lives seem curiously at fault. -He has always possessed this talent for forcing time to give him twice -its measure. That expensive mode of illumination known as burning the -candle at both ends would probably be found to be the true explanation.</p> - -<p>I have said that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman’s town house could not be characterized -as rich in picturesque external adjuncts. The street in which it -is situated—West Fifty-fourth—is of a piece with the prevailing -character of New York domestic architecture. It is a long stretch of -brown-stone houses, ranged in line, like a regiment of soldiers turned -into stone. But the impassive chocolate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</span> features, like some mask worn -by a fairy princess, conceal a most enchanting interior. Once within -the front door, the charm of a surprise awaits one. Color, warmth, and -grace greet the eye at the outset. If it be the poet’s gift to turn -the prose of life into poetry, it is certain that the same magical -art has here been employed to make household surroundings minister to -the æsthetic sense. There is a pervading harmony of tone and tints -throughout the house, the rich draperies, the soft-toned carpets, and -the dusk of the tempered daylight, are skillfully used as an effective -background to bring into relief the pictures, the works of art, and the -rare bits of bric-à-brac. One is made sensible, by means of a number -of clever devices, that in this home the arts and not the upholstery -are called upon to do the honors. These admirable results are due -almost entirely to the taste and skill of Mrs. Stedman, who possesses -an artist’s instinct for grouping and effect. She has also the keen -scent and the patience of the ardent collector. A tour of the house is -a passing in review of her triumphs, of trophies won at sales, bits -picked up in foreign travel, a purchase now and then of some choice -collection, either of glass or china, or prints and etchings. Among -the purchases has been that of a large and beautiful collection of -Venetian glass, whose delicate grace and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</span> iridescent glow make the -lower rooms a little museum for the connoisseur. But more beautiful -even than the glass is the gleam of color from the admirable pictures -which adorn the walls. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman is evidently a believer in the -doctrine that there is health in the rivalry of the arts. His pictures -look out from their frames at his books, as if to bid them defiance. -The former are of an order of excellence to make even a literary critic -speak well of them; for <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman has a passion for pictures which he -has taken the pains to train into a taste. He was a familiar figure, -a few years ago, at the Academy of Design receptions on press-night. -He was certain to be found opposite one of the best water-colors or -oil-paintings of the Exhibition, into the frame of which, a few minutes -later, his card would be slipped, on which the magic word “Sold” was -to be read. It was in this way that some charming creations of Wyant, -of Church, and other of our best artists, were purchased. Perhaps the -pearl of his collection is Winslow Homer’s “Voice from the Cliffs,” the -strongest figure-picture this artist has yet produced. The walls divide -their spaces between such works of art and a numerous and interesting -collection of gifts and souvenirs from the poet’s artist and literary -friends. Among these is a sketch in oil of Miss Fletcher, the author -of “Kismet,” by her stepfather, Eugene Benson;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</span> a bronze bas-relief -of Bayard Taylor, who was an intimate friend of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman’s; and a -companion relief of the latter poet, hanging side by side with that of -his friend as if lovingly to emphasize their companionship.</p> - -<p>The usual parallelogram of the New York parlor is broken, by the -pleasantly irregular shape of the rooms, into a series of unexpected -openings, turnings and corners. At the most distant end, beyond the -square drawing-room, the perspective is defined by the rich tones of a -long stretch of stained glass. The figures are neither those of nymph -nor satyr, nor yet of the æsthetic young damsel in amber garments whom -Burne-Jones and William Morris would have us accept as the successor -of these. Here sit two strangely familiar-looking stolid Dutchmen in -colonial dress, puffing their pipes in an old-time kitchen. They are -Peter Stuyvesant and Govert Loockermans, in the act of being waited -upon by “goede-vrouw Maria, ... bustling at her best to spread the -New Year’s table.” Lest the gazer might be in need of an introduction -to these three jovial creations of the poet’s fancy, there are lines -of the poem intertwined with the holly which serves as a decorative -adjunct. No more fitting entrance could have been chosen to the Stedman -dining-room than this. If there was no other company, there was always -the extra plate and an empty chair awaiting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</span> the coming guest. It has -pleased the humor of Boston to lance its arrows of wit at New York -for the latter’s pretensions to establishing literary circles and -coteries. When literary Boston was invited to the Stedmans to dinner, -these satirical arrows seemed suddenly to lose their edge. During the -four or five years that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> and Mrs. Stedman occupied their charming -house, New York had as distinctly a literary center as either Paris -or London. On Sunday evenings, the evenings at home, there was such a -varied assemblage of guests as only a metropolis can bring together. -Not only authors and artists, critics and professional men, but fashion -and society, found their way there. At the weekly dinners were to be -met the distinguished foreigner, the latest successful novelist or -young poet, and the wittiest and the most beautiful women. As if in -humorous mockery of the difficulties attendant upon literary success -and recognition, the dining-room in its size and seating capacity might -not inaptly be likened to that Oriental figure of speech by which the -rich found heaven so impossible of access. The smallness of the room -only served, however, like certain chemical apparatus, to condense and -liberate the brilliant conversational gases. If the poet were in his -most gracious mood, the more favored guests, after dinner, might be -allowed a glimpse of the library. Books were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</span> scattered so profusely -over the house, that each room might easily have been mistaken for -one. But in a large square room at the top of the house is the library -proper—workshop and study together. This building his poet’s nest -under the eaves of his own cornice is the one evidence of the recluse -in Stedman’s character. When he is about to pluck his own plumage -that his fledglings may be covered, he turns his back on the world. -All the paraphernalia of his toil are about him. The evidences of the -range and the extent of his reading and scholarship are to be found -in taking down some of the volumes on the shelves. Here are the Greek -classics, in the original, with loose sheets among the pages, where are -translations of Theocritus or Bion, done into finished English verse. -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman’s proficiency in Doric Greek is matched by his familiarity -with the modern French classics, whose lightness of touch and airy -grace he has caught in “Aucassin and Nicolette,” “Toujours Amour,” and -“Jean Prouvaire’s Song.” With a delicate sense of fitness, the dainty -verse of Coppée, Béranger, Théodore de Banville, the sonnets of Victor -Hugo, and, indeed, his whole collection of the French poets, is bound -in exquisite vellum or morocco. Among these volumes the poet’s own -works appear in several rare and beautiful editions. There are the -“Songs and Ballads,” issued by the Bookfellows Club, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</span> essay on -Edgar Allan Poe in vellum (the first so bound in America), and other -beautifully illustrated and printed copies of his poems. The shelves -and tables are laden with a wealth of literary treasure. But there -is one volume one holds with a truly reverent delight. It is Mrs. -Browning’s own copy of “Casa Guidi Windows,” with interlineations and -corrections. It was the gift of the poetess to Mrs. Kinney, Stedman’s -mother, who was among Mrs. Browning’s intimate friends. “How John Brown -took Harper’s Ferry,” it is pleasant to learn, was an especial favorite -with the great songstress.</p> - -<p>Since the reversal of fortune which overwhelmed <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman five years -ago, this charming home has been temporarily leased. The family, -however, were altogether fortunate in securing Bayard Taylor’s old home -in East Thirtieth Street, during an absence in Europe of the latter’s -wife and daughter. Here the conditions surrounding Stedman’s home life -have been necessarily changed. The arduous literary labor attendant -on the publishing of his recently completed volume on the “Poets of -America,” which completes the series of contemporaneous English and -American poets, together with his work on the “Library of American -Literature” (of which he and Miss Hutchinson are the joint editors), -the writing of magazine articles, poems and critiques, and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</span> -increased cares of his business struggles, make him too hard-worked -a man to be available for the lighter social pleasures. The Sunday -evenings are, however, still maintained, as his one leisure hour, -and the hospitality is as generous as the present modest resources -of the household will permit. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman’s early career, and the -native toughness of fibre which has enabled him to fight a winning -battle against tremendous odds during his whole life, furnished -him with the fortitude and endurance with which he met his recent -calamity. The heroic element is a dominant note in his character. At -the very outset of his career he gave proof of the stuff that was in -him. Entering Yale College in 1849, and suspended in ’53 for certain -boyish irregularities, the man in him was born in a day. At nineteen -he went into journalism, married at twenty, and in another year was -an editor and a father. Ten years later, after service in all the -grades of newspaper life, the same energy of decision marked his next -departure. He gave up journalism, and went into active business in -Wall Street that he might have time for more independent, imaginative -writing. The bread-winning was so successful that in another ten years -he had gained a competence, and was about to retire from business, to -devote himself entirely to literary pursuits. He now returns to the -struggle with fortune with the old unworn,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</span> undaunted patience. He -has been sustained in the vicissitudes of his career by the cheering -companionship of his wife. Ever in sympathy with her husband’s work and -ambitions, Mrs. Stedman has possessed the gift of adaptability which -has enabled her to meet with befitting ease and dignity the varying -fortunes which have befallen them. In the earlier nomadic days she was -the Blanche, who, with the poet, rambled through the “faery realm” of -Bohemia. The “little King Arthur” is a grown man now, his father’s -co-worker and devoted aid. The king has abdicated in favor of a tiny -princess, who rules the household with her baby ways. This is another -Laura, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">ætat</i> four, who, with her mother, Mrs. Frederick Stedman, -completes the family circle. It needs the reiterated calls for grandpa -and grandma to impress one with the reality of the fact that this -still youthful-looking couple are not masquerading in the parts. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Stedman, in spite of his grayish beard and mustache, is a singularly -young-looking man for his years. He is slight, with slender figure and -delicate features. His motions and gestures are full of impulse and -energy. He has the bearing of a man who has measured his strength with -the world. The delicate refinement and finish of his work, as well as -its power and vigor, are foreshadowed in his <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">personnel</i>. His -manner is an epitome of his literary style.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</span> His face has the charm -which comes from high-bred features molded into the highest form of -expression—that of intellectual energy infused with a deep and keen -sympathetic quality. Something of this facial charm he inherits from -his mother, now Mrs. Kinney. As the lovely and brilliant wife of the -Hon. William B. Kinney, when the latter was American Minister at the -Court of Turin, this gifted lady won a European reputation for the -sparkling radiance of her beauty.</p> - -<p>As a talker <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman possesses the first and highest of -qualities—that of spontaneity. The thought leaps at a bound into -expression. So rapid is the flow of ideas, and so fluent its delivery, -that one thought sometimes trips on the heels of the next. His talk, -in its range, its variety, and the multiplicity of subjects touched -upon, even more, perhaps, than his work, is an unconscious betrayal -of his many-sided life. The critic, the poet, the man of business and -the man of the world, the lover of nature, and the keen observer of -the social machinery of life, each by turn takes the ascendant. The -whole, woven together by a brilliant tissue of short, epigrammatic, -trenchant sentences, abounding in good things one longs to remember and -quote, forms a most picturesque and dazzling ensemble. Added to the -brilliancy, there is a genial glow of humor,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</span> and such an ardor and -enthusiasm in his capacity for admiration, as complete <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman’s -equipment as a man and a conversationalist. He would not be a poet did -he not see his fellow-man aureoled with a halo. His natural attitude -toward life and men is an almost boyish belief and delight in their -being admirable. It is only on discovering they are otherwise that the -critic appears to soften the disappointment by the rigors of analysis. -Stedman is by nature an enthusiast. He owes it to his training that -he is a critic. As an enthusiast he has the fervor, the intensity, -the exaltation, which belong to the believer and the lover of all -things true and good and beautiful. He is as generous as he is ardent, -and his gift of praising is not to be counted as among the least of -his qualities. But the critic comes in to temper the ardor, to weigh -the value, and to test the capacity. And thus it is found that there -are two men in <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman, one of whom appears to be perpetually in -pursuit of the other, and never quite to overtake him.</p> - -<p>If poets are born and not made this side of heaven, so are sportsmen. -In Stedman’s case the two appeared in one, to prove the duality -possible. Summer after summer, in the hard-won vacations, the two have -sailed the inland lakes and fished in the trout streams together; -the fisherman oblivious of all else save the movements<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</span> of that most -animate of inanimate insects—the angler’s fly; the poet equally -absorbed in quite another order of motion—that of nature’s play. The -range of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman’s acquaintance among backwoodsmen and seafaring -men is in proportion to the extent of his journeyings. “There are at -least a hundred men with whom I am intimate who don’t dream I have -ever written a line,” I once overheard him say in the midst of a story -he was telling of the drolleries of some forest guide who was among -his “intimates.” This talent for companionship with classes of men -removed from his own social orbit has given Stedman that breadth of -sympathy and that sure vision in the fields of observation which makes -his critical work so unusual. He knows men as a naturalist knows the -kingdom of animal life. He can thus analyze and classify, not only the -writer, but the man, for he holds the key to a right comprehension of -character by virtue of his own plastic sensibility. His delight in -getting near to men who are at polaric distances from him socially, -makes him impatient of those whom so-called culture has removed to -Alpine heights from which to view their fellow-beings. “There’s so -and so,” he once said, in speaking of a second-rate poet whose verses -were æsthetic sighs to the south wind and the daffodil; “he thinks of -nothing but rhyming love and dove. I wonder<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</span> what he would make out of -a man—a friend of mine, for instance, in the Maine woods, a creature -as big as Hercules, with a heart to match his strength. I should like -to see what he would make of him.” Stedman’s own personality is infused -with a raciness and a warmth peculiar to men who have the power of -freshening their own lives by that system of wholesome renewal called -human contact. Much of the secret of his social charm comes from his -delight in, and ready companionship with, all conditions of men.</p> - -<p>In his present study in the little house in Thirtieth Street there -are several photographs, scattered about the room, of a quaint and -picturesque seaside house. This is the summer home on the island of -New Castle, N. H. It has a tower which seems to have been built over -the crest of the waves, and a <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">loggia</i> as wide and spacious -as a Florentine palace. No one but a sailor or a sea-lover could -have chosen such a spot. To <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman, New Castle was a veritable -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">trouvaille</i>. It fulfilled every condition of pleasure and comfort -requisite in a summer home. The sea was at his doors, and the elms and -fields ran down to meet it. The little island, with its quaint old -fishing village, its old colonial houses, its lanes and its lovely -coast line, is the most picturesque of microcosms ever set afloat.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</span> -There is no railroad nearer than three miles, and to reach it one -crosses as many bridges as span a Venetian canal. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman himself, -the poet John Albee, Barrett Wendell (one of Boston’s clever young -authors), Prof. Bartlett, of Harvard, and Jacob Wendell’s family, make -a charming and intimate little coterie. At Kelp Rock <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman is -only the poet, the genial host, and the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bon camarade</i>. Business -cares and thoughts are relegated to the world whence they came. The -most approachable of authors at all times, at New Castle, with the sea -and the sunshine to keep his idleness in countenance, he seems fairly -to irradiate companionship. His idleness is of an order to set the rest -of the world a lesson in activity. In his play he is even more intense, -if possible, than in his work. The play consists of five or six -hard-writing hours in his tower during the morning. This is followed by -an afternoon of sailing, or fishing, or walking, any one of which forms -of pleasure is planned with a view to hard labor of some kind, some -strenuous demand on the physical forces. The evening finds him and his -family, with some of the group mentioned and often with stray visitors -from the outer world, before the drift-wood fire in the low-raftered -hall, where talk and good-cheer complete the day.</p> - -<p>With such abundantly vigorous energies, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr><span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</span> Stedman’s quarter of a -century of productiveness is only an earnest of his future work. He -has doubly pledged himself hereafter to the performance of strictly -original creative writing. As critic he has completed the work which -he set himself to do—that of rounding the circle of contemporaneous -poetry. In giving to the world such masterpieces of critical writing -as the “Victorian Poets” and “Poets of America,” he owes it to his own -muse to prove that the critic leaves the poet free.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Anna Bowman Dodd.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>[Since this sketch was written (November, 1885) <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman has sold -his Fifty-fourth Street house, leased a house in East Twenty-sixth -Street, bought one in West Seventy-eighth Street (1890) and sold it in -1895, at the same time that he disposed of “Kelp Rock.” His permanent -home is now at Lawrence Park—“Casa Laura,” named after his wife and -granddaughter—although he spent last winter in apartments in New York. -His most recent works are his Victorian and American Anthologies and -“Mater Coronata,” the poem written for the Bicentennial Celebration of -Yale University.—<span class="smcap">Editors.</span>]</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">RICHARD HENRY STODDARD</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="RICHARD_HENRY_STODDARD">RICHARD HENRY STODDARD<br><span class="small">IN NEW YORK</span></h2></div> - - -<p>Among those New York men-of-letters who are “only that and nothing -more”—who are known simply as writers, and not as politicians or -public speakers, like George William Curtis in the older, or Theodore -Roosevelt in the younger, generation,—there is no figure more familiar -than that of Richard Henry Stoddard. The poet’s whole life since he -was ten years old has been passed on Manhattan Island; no feet, save -those of some veteran patrolman, “have worn its stony highways” more -persistently than his. The city has undergone many changes since the -boy landed at the Battery one Sunday morning over half a century ago, -and with his mother and her husband wandered up Broadway, but his -memory keeps the record of them all.</p> - -<p>It is not only New York that has changed its aspect in the hurrying -years; the times have changed, too, and the conditions of life are -not so hard for this adopted New Yorker as they were in his boyhood -and early youth. Perhaps he is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</span> not yet in a position to display the -motto of the Stoddards, “Post Nubes Lux,” which he once declared would -be his when the darkness that beclouded his fortunes had given place -to light. But his labors to-day, however irksome and monotonous, are -not altogether uncongenial. He is not yet free from the necessity of -doing a certain amount of literary hackwork (readers of <i>The Mail -and Express</i> are selfish enough to hope he never will be); but he -has sympathetic occupation and surroundings, leisure to write verse -at other than the “mournful midnight hours,” a sure demand for all -he writes (a condition not last or least in the tale of a literary -worker’s temporal blessings), and, above all, that sense of having -won a place in the hearts of his fellow-men which should be even more -gratifying to a poet than the assurance of a niche in the Temple of -Fame. Such further gratification as this last assurance may give, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Stoddard certainly does not lack.</p> - -<p>The story of the poet’s life has been told so often, and in volumes so -readily accessible to all (the best account is to be found in “Poets’ -Homes,” Boston, D. Lothrop Co.), that I do not need to rehearse it -in detail. Like the lives of most poets, especially the poets of -America, it has not been an eventful one, if by eventful we imply those -marvelous achievements or startling changes of fortune that dazzle -the world. Yet what<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</span> more marvelous than that the delicate flower -of poetry should be planted in a soil formed by the fusion of such -rugged elements as a New England sailing-master and the daughter of a -“horse-swapping” deacon? Or that, once planted there, it should have -not only survived, but grown and thriven amid the rigors of such an -early experience as Stoddard’s? These surely <em>are</em> marvels, but -marvels to which mankind was passably accustomed even before Shelley -told us that the poet teaches in song only what he has learned in -suffering.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stoddard was born July 2, 1825, at Hingham, <abbr title="Massachusetts">Mass.</abbr>, the home of his -ancestors since 1638. The Stoddards were seafaring folk; the poet’s -father being one of those hardy New England captains whose bones now -whiten the mid-sea sands. It was a step-father that brought Richard and -his mother to New York; and here the boy had his only schooling and an -unpromising practical experience of life. The reading and writing of -poetry kept his soul alive during these dark days, and his achievements -did not fail of appreciation. Poe paid him the back-handed compliment -of pronouncing a poem he had written too good to be original; while -N. P. Willis more directly encouraged him to write. So also did Park -Benjamin, Lewis Gaylord Clarke, and Mrs. Caroline M. Kirkland. But the -first friendship<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</span> formed with a writer of his own age resulted from a -call on Bayard Taylor—already the author of “Views Afoot” and one of -the editors of the <i>Tribune</i>,—who had accepted some verses of the -poet’s, and who was, later on, the means of making him acquainted with -another young poet and critic—the third member of a famous literary -trio. This was Edmund Clarence Stedman, a younger man than the other -two by eight years or so; then (in 1859) but twenty-six years old, -though he had already made himself conspicuous by “The Diamond Wedding” -and “How Old Brown took Harper’s Ferry.” With Taylor <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stoddard’s -intimacy continued till the death of that distinguished traveler, -journalist, poet, translator and Minister to Germany; with Stedman his -friendship is still unbroken. He has had many friends, and many are -left to him, but none have stood closer than these in the little circle -in which he is known as “Dick.”</p> - -<p>When <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stoddard met the woman he was to marry, he had already -published, or rather printed (at his own expense), a volume called -“Footprints.” The poems were pleasantly noticed in two or three -magazines, and one copy of them was sold. As there was no call for the -remainder of the edition, it was committed to the flames. Encouraged -by this success, the young poet saw no impropriety in becoming the -husband of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</span> young lady of Mattapoisett. Elizabeth Barstow was her -name, and the tie that bound them was a common love of books. It was -at twenty-five (some years before his first meeting with Taylor or -Stedman) that the penniless poet and the ship-builder’s daughter were -made one by the <abbr title="reverend">Rev.</abbr> Ralph Hoyt, an amiable clergyman of this city, -“who found it easier to marry the poet than to praise his verses.”</p> - -<p>Realizing that man cannot live by poetry alone, particularly when he -has given hostages to fortune (as Bacon, not Shakspeare, puts it) he -set to work to teach himself to write prose, “and found that he was -either a slow teacher, or a slow scholar, probably both.” But prose and -verse together, though by no means lavish in their rewards to-day, were -still less bountiful in the early ’50s; and even when the slow pupil -had acquired what the slow teacher had to impart, he was in a fair -way to learn by experience whether or no “love is enough” for husband -and wife and an increasing family of children. Not long before this, -however, it had been <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stoddard’s good fortune to become acquainted -with Hawthorne, and through the romancer’s friendly intervention he -received from President Pierce an appointment in the New York Custom -House. He was just twenty-eight years of age when he entered the -granite temple in Wall Street, and he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</span> was forty-five when he regained -his freedom from official bondage.</p> - -<p>It was in 1870 that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stoddard lost his position in the Custom House. -Shortly afterwards he became a clerk in the New York Dock Department, -under Gen. McClellan; and, in 1877, Librarian of the City Library—an -anomalous position, better suited to his tastes and capabilities in -title than in fact, since the Library is a library only in name, its -shelves being burdened with books that would have come under Lamb’s -most cordial ban. The librarianship naturally came to an end in not -more than two years. Since then, or about that date, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stoddard has -been the literary editor of <i>The Mail and Express</i>—a position -in which he has found it hard to do his best work, perhaps, but in -which he has at least given a literary tone to the paper not common -to our dailies. He has also been an occasional contributor to <i>The -Critic</i> since its foundation; until recently he was a leading -review-writer for the <i>Tribune</i>; and he is still to be found now -and then in the poets’ corner of <i>The Independent</i>. Of the books -he has written or edited it is unnecessary to give the list; it can be -found in almost any biographical dictionary. The volume on which his -fame will rest is his “Poetical Works,” published by the Scribners. It -contains some of the most beautiful lyrics and blank-verse ever written -in America—some of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</span> most beautiful written anywhere during the -poet’s life-time. His verse is copious in amount, rich in thought, -feeling, and imagination, simple and sensuous in expression. The taste -of readers and lovers of English poetry must undergo a radical change -indeed, if such poems as the stately Horatian ode on Lincoln, the -Keats and Lincoln sonnets, the “Hymn to the Beautiful,” “The Flight -of Youth,” “Irreparable,” “Sorrow and Joy,” “The Flower of Love Lies -Bleeding,” or the pathetic poems grouped in the collective edition -of the poet’s verses under the general title of “In Memoriam,” are -ever to be forgotten or misprized. In prose, too—the medium he found -it so difficult to teach himself to use,—he has put forth (often -anonymously) innumerable essays and sketches betraying a ripe knowledge -of literature and literary history together with the keenest critical -acumen, and flashing and glowing with alternate wit and humor. Long -practice has given him the mastery of a style as individual as it is -pleasing: once familiar with it, one needs no signature to tell whether -he is the author of a given article.</p> - -<p>The Stoddards’ home has been, for sixteen years, the first of a row of -three-story-and-basement houses, built of brick and painted a light -yellow, that runs eastward along the north side of East Fifteenth -Street, from the south-east<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</span> corner of Stuyvesant Square. Like its -neighbors it is distinguished from the conventional New York house -by a veranda that shades the doorway and first-floor windows. The -neighborhood to the east is unattractive; to the west, delightful. -Stuyvesant Square—“Squares” it should be, for Second Avenue, with -its endless file of horse-cars, trucks, carriages and foot-travelers, -bisects the stately little park—is one of the most beautiful as well -as one of the most “aristocratic” quarters of the city. (Was it not -from Stuyvesant Square that the late Richard Grant White dedicated one -of his last books to a noble English lady?) It is the quarter long -known to and frequented by the Stuyvesants, the Rutherfords, the Fishs, -the Jays. Senator Evarts’s city home is but a block below the Square. -The twin steeples of fashionable <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> George’s keep sleepless watch over -its shaded walks and sparkling fountains. By the bell of the old church -clock the poet can regulate his domestic time-piece; for its sonorous -hourly strokes, far-heard at night, are but half-muffled by the loudest -noises of the day; or should they chance to be altogether hushed, -the passer-by has but to raise his eyes to one of the huge faces to -see the gilt hands gleaming in the sun or moonlight. <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> George’s is -on the opposite side of the Square to <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stoddard’s, at the corner -of Rutherford Place and Sixteenth Street; and a Friends’ School and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</span> -Meeting-House fill the space between this and the Fifteenth Street -corner. Past the latter, the poet—true to the kindred points of club -and home—is a constant wayfarer. For the Century Association, of which -he is one of the oldest members, commands his interest now as it did -when housed at No. 109 in the same street that holds the Stoddards’ -household gods. The number at which the family receive their friends -and mail, and give daily audience (vicariously) to the inevitable -butcher and baker, is 329.</p> - -<p>It has taken us a long while to get here, but here we are at last; -and I, for my part, am in no hurry to get away again. It is just -such a house as you would expect to find a man like Stoddard in: a -poet’s home and literary workshop. There is no space, and no need, -for a parlor. The front room (to the left as you enter the house) is -called the library. Its general air is decidedly luxurious. There is -a profusion of easy chairs and lounges, and of graceful tables laden -with odd and precious bits of bric-à-brac. There is more bric-à-brac on -the mantel-piece. The walls are covered close with paintings. At the -windows hang heavy curtains; and the portière at a wide doorway at the -back of the apartment frames a pleasant glimpse of the dining-room. -Rugs of various dimensions cover the matting almost without break. -The fireplace is flanked on each side by high book-cases<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</span> of -artistically carved dark wood, filled with books in handsome bindings. -A full-length portrait of an officer in uniform fills the space above -the mantel-piece: it is Colonel Wilson Barstow, of General Dix’s staff, -who served at Fortress Monroe during the war, and died in 1868. It -hangs where it does because the Colonel was Mrs. Stoddard’s brother. -Between the front windows is a plaster medallion of the master of the -house, by his old friend Launt Thompson. (A similar likeness of “Willy” -Stoddard, and a plaster cast of his little hand, both by <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Thompson, -are the only perishable mementoes his parents now possess—save “a lock -of curly golden hair”—to remind them of their first-born, dead since -’61.) On the east wall is a canvas somewhat more than a foot square, -giving a full-length view of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stoddard, standing, as he appeared to -T. W. Wood in 1873, when the snow-white hair against which the laurel -shows so green to-day had just begun to lose its glossy blackness. -Alongside of this hangs a larger frame, showing W. T. Richards’s -conception of “The Castle in the Air” described in the first poem of -Stoddard’s that attracted wide attention,—</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A stately marble pile whose pillars rise</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From deep-set bases fluted to the dome.</span><br> -</p> -<hr class="r5"> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">The spacious windows front the rising sun,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And when its splendor smites them, many-paned,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Tri-arched and richly-stained,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A thousand mornings brighten there as one.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>The painting has grown mellow with the flight of a quarter-century. -It shows the influence of Turner very plainly, and is accepted by -the painter of the scene in words as a fair interpretation in color -of the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">château en Espagne</i> of his song. It was a favorite of -Sandford Gifford’s—another dear friend of the poet’s, whose handiwork -in lake and mountain scenery lights up other corners of the room. -Kindred treasures are a masterly head, by Eastman Johnson, of a -Nantucket fisherman, gazing seaward through his glass; a glimpse of -the Alps, presented by Bierstadt to Mrs. Stoddard; a swamp-scene, by -Homer Martin, in his earlier manner; a view of the Bay of Naples, by -Charles Temple Dix, the General’s son; and bits of color by Smillie, -Jarvis McEntee, S. G. W. Benjamin, and Miss Fidelia Bridges. Two -panels (“Winter” and “Summer”) were given to the owner by a friend -who had once leased a studio to J. C. Thom, a pupil of Edouard -Frère. When the artist gave up the room, these pictures were sawed -out of the doors on which he had painted them. Besides two or three -English water-colors, there are small copies by the late Cephas G. -Thompson, whose art Hawthorne delighted to praise, of Simon Memmi’s -heads of Petrarch and Laura, at Florence. A<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</span> more personal interest -attaches to an oil-painting by Bayard Taylor—a peep at Buzzard’s Bay -from Mattapoisett, disclosing a part of the view visible from Mrs. -Stoddard’s early home. Not all of these works are to be found in the -library; for in our hurried tour of inspection we have crossed the -threshold of the dining-room, where such prosaic bits of furniture as a -sideboard, dinner-table and straight-backed chairs hold back the flood -of books. One wave has swept through, however, and is held captive in a -small case standing near the back windows. The summer light that finds -its way into this room is filtered through a mass of leaves shading a -veranda similar to the one in front.</p> - -<p>The poet’s “den,” on the second floor, embraces the main room and an -alcove, and is lighted by three windows overlooking the street. His -writing-desk—a mahogany one, of ancient make—stands between two of -the windows. Above it hangs a large engraving of Lawrence’s Thackeray, -beneath which, in the same frame, you may read “The Sorrows of Werther” -in the balladist’s own inimitable hand. As you sit at the desk, Mrs. -Browning looks down upon you from a large photograph on the wall at -your right—one which her husband deemed the best she ever had taken. -A delicate engraving hangs beside it of Holmes’s miniature of Byron—a -portrait of which Byron<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</span> himself said, “I prefer that likeness to any -which has ever been done of me by any artist whatever.” It shows a -head almost feminine in its beauty. An etching of Hugo is framed above -a striking autograph that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stoddard paid a good price for—at a -time, as he says, when he thought he had some money. The sentiment is -practical: “Donnez cent francs aux pauvres de New York. Donnez moins, -si vous n’êtes pas assez riche; mais donnez. <span class="smcap">Victor Hugo.</span>” -The manuscript, which looks as if it might have been written with a -sharpened match, is undated and unaddressed. Every one, therefore, is -at liberty to regard it as a personal appeal or command to himself. -Close beside the Byron portrait is an etching of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stedman; into its -frame the owner has thrust that gentleman’s visiting card, on which, -over the date “Feb. 14, 1885,” are scribbled these lines:</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It is a Friar of whiskers gray</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That kneels before your shrine,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, as of old, would once more pray</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To be your <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>Among the treasures of mingled literary and artistic interest in this -room is a small portrait of Smollett. It is painted on wood, and the -artist’s name is not given. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stoddard has not found it reproduced -among the familiar likenesses of the novelist. Along the wall above the -mantel-piece runs a rare print of Blake’s “Canterbury<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</span> Pilgrimage,” -with the designation of each pilgrim engraved beneath his figure. It -is noteworthy for its dissimilarity, as well as its likeness, to the -poet-painter’s more familiar works. The main wall in the alcove I -have spoken of displays a life-size crayon head of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stoddard, done -by Alexander Laurie in 1863. It also gives support to several rows -of shelves, running far and rising high, filled chock-full of books -less prettily bound than those in the library, but of greater value, -perhaps, to the eyes that have so often pored upon them. It is the -poet’s collection, to which he has been adding ever since he was a -boy, of English poetry of all periods; and it has been consulted to -good purpose by many other scholars than the owner. Under an engraving -of Raphael’s portrait of himself, at the back of the larger room, is -a case filled with books of the same class, but rarer still—indeed, -quite priceless to their owner; for they are the tomes once treasured -by kindred spirits, and inscribed with names writ in that indelible -water which still preserves the name of Keats.</p> - -<p>Of the books of this class, from the libraries of famous authors—some -being presentation copies, and others containing either the owners’ -signatures or their autographic annotations of the text,—may be -mentioned volumes that once belonged to Edmund Waller, Thomas Gray, -Sir Joshua<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</span> Reynolds, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Charles Lamb, William -Wordsworth, John Keats, Robert Southey, Hartley Coleridge, Lord -Byron, Thomas Lisle Bowles, Felicia Hemans, Thomas Campbell, William -Motherwell, and Caroline Norton. Among signatures or documents in -the manuscript of famous men are the names of William Alexander, -Earl of Sterling; Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke; Thomas Sackville, -Lord Buckhurst, author of “Gorboduc”; Samuel Garth, author of “The -Dispensary,” and others. Among the manuscripts cherished by <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Stoddard are letters or poems from the pens of William Shenstone, -Burns, Cowper, Sheridan, Southey, Wordsworth, Sir Walter Scott, Thomas -Moore, Campbell, Dickens, Thackeray, Bryant, Longfellow, Poe, Lowell, -Bayard Taylor, Ebenezer Elliott, “the Corn Law Rhymer”; Walter Savage -Landor, James Montgomery, Felicia Hemans, Thomas Hood, Bryan Waller -Procter (“Barry Cornwall”), Miss Mitford, Lord Tennyson, Swinburne, -Frederick Locker-Lampson, N. P. Willis, Charles Brockden Brown, J. G. -Whittier, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Leigh Hunt, Washington Irving, Robert -Browning, Mrs. Browning, and scores of other English and American poets -and writers of distinction.</p> - -<p>Included in this choice collection are the manuscripts of Hunt’s “Abou -Ben Adhem,” Thackeray’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</span> “Sorrows of Werther,” Bryant’s “Antiquity of -Freedom,” Longfellow’s “Arrow and Song” (“I shot an arrow into the -air”), Mrs. Browning’s “Castrucci Castricanni,” pages of Bryant’s -translation of Homer, Tennyson’s “Tears, Idle Tears,” Lord Houghton’s -“I Wandered by the Brookside,” Barry Cornwall’s “Mother’s Last Song,” -Sheridan’s “Clio’s Protest” (containing the famous lines,</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They write with ease to show their breeding,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But easy writing’s cursed hard reading),</span><br> -</p> - -<p>Poe’s sonnet “To Zante,” Holmes’s “Last Leaf,” Lowell’s “Zekle’s -Courtin’” and a manuscript volume containing nearly all of Bayard -Taylor’s “Poems of the Orient.” His library of English poets contains -many now scarce first editions—Drayton’s Poems, 1619; Lord Sterling’s -“Monarchic Tragedies,” 1602; Brooke’s “Alaham Mustapha,” 1631; Milton’s -Poems, 1645; the early editions of Suckling, etc.</p> - -<p>The most precious of all <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stoddard’s literary relics is a lock of -light brown or golden hair—the veriest wisp,—that came to him from -his friend and brother poet <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> George H. Boker of Philadelphia. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Boker had it from Leigh Hunt’s American editor, S. Adams Lee, to whom -it was given by Hunt himself. It was “the distinguished physician -<abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Beatty” who gave it to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</span> the English poet; and it was Hoole, the -translator of Tasso, who gave it to Beatty. The next previous owner to -Hoole was <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Samuel Johnson. Further back than this, Leigh Hunt could -not trace it; but he believed it to be a portion of the lock attached -to a miniature portrait of Milton known to have existed in the time of -Addison and supposed to have been in his possession. That it came from -the august head of the poet of “Paradise Lost” had never been doubted -down to <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Beatty’s day; so at least wrote Hunt, in a manuscript of -which <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stoddard preserves a copy, in Lee’s handwriting, in a volume -of Hunt’s poems edited by that gentleman. There is a fine sonnet of -Hunt’s on these golden threads, written when they passed into his -possession; and Keats’s poem, “On Seeing a Lock of Milton’s Hair,” -has made the relic still more memorable. It is smaller now than it -was when these great spirits were sojourning on earth, for Leigh -Hunt gave a part of it to Mrs. Browning. “Reverence these hairs, O -Americans! (as indeed you will),” he wrote, “for <em>in them</em> your -great Republican harbinger on this side of the Atlantic appears, for -the first time, actually and <em>bodily</em> present on the other side of -it.” A companion locket holds a wisp of silver hairs from the head of -Washington.</p> - -<p>It would be a serious oversight to ignore any<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</span> member of the little -Stoddard household—to make no mention of that gifted woman who caught -the contagion of writing from her husband, and has won not only his -cordial “Well done,” but the admiration of such authoritative critics -as Hawthorne and Stedman, to name but these two; or of that son who -is now an only child, and therefore trebly dear to both his parents. -Mrs. Stoddard is known and admired as a poet; the bound volumes of -<i>Harper’s Monthly</i> bear abundant testimony to her skill as a -writer of short stories; and her powers as a novelist are receiving -fresh recognition through the republication, by Cassell & Co., of “Two -Men,” “The Morgesons” and “Temple House.” The son, Lorimer, a youth of -twenty-four, has chosen the stage as his profession, and in that very -popular piece, “The Henrietta,” has made his mark in the character of -the young nobleman. In speaking of the home of the Stoddards, some -reference to the long-haired little terrier, Œnone, may be pardoned. -She has been an inmate of the house for many years; and she trots -here and there about it, upstairs and down, as freely and with as few -misadventures as if she were not stone-blind.</p> - -<p>The blindness of Œnone reminds me that her master (whom rheumatism -once robbed of the use of his right hand for many years) is gradually<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</span> -losing the use of his eyes. I found him this summer, on his return -from a few weeks’ sojourn in the Adirondacks, reading and writing with -the aid of a powerful magnifying-glass. He said the trip had done him -little good in this respect; and the glare of the sunlight upon the -salt water at Sag Harbor, whither he was about to repair for the rest -of the season, was not likely to prove more beneficial. This seashore -town, where his friend Julian Hawthorne long since established himself, -has of late years taken Mattapoisett’s place as the Stoddards’ summer -home.</p> - -<p>A personal description of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stoddard should be unnecessary. At this -late day few of his readers can be unfamiliar with his face. It has -been engraved more than once, and printed not only with his collected -poems, but in magazines of wider circulation than the books of any -living American poet. It is not likely to disappoint the admirer of -his work, for it is a poet’s face, as well as a handsome one. The -clear-cut, regular features are almost feminine in their delicacy; -but in the dark eyes, now somewhat dimmed though full of thought and -feeling, there is a look that counteracts any impression of effeminacy -due to the refinement of the features, or the melodious softness of -the voice. The hair and beard of snowy whiteness make a harmonious -setting for the poet’s ruddy countenance. Though slightly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</span> bowed, as he -steps forward to meet you (with left hand advanced) <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stoddard still -impresses you as a man of more than middle height. His cordial though -undemonstrative greeting puts the stranger at his ease at once; for his -manner is as gentle as his speech is frank.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Joseph B. Gilder.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">HARRIET BEECHER STOWE</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="HARRIET_BEECHER_STOWE">HARRIET BEECHER STOWE<br><span class="small">IN HARTFORD</span></h2></div> - - -<p>Until Mrs. Stowe’s health began to fail, twice a day regularly she -walked abroad for an hour or more, and between times she was apt to -be more or less out of doors. The weather had to be unmistakably -prohibitory to keep her housed from morning till night. Not -infrequently her forenoon stroll took her to the house of her son, -the <abbr title="reverend">Rev.</abbr> Charles E. Stowe, two miles away, in the north part of the -city. So long as the season admitted of it, she inclined to get off -the pavement into the fields; and she was not afraid to climb over or -under a fence. As one would infer from her writings, she was extremely -fond of wild flowers, and from early spring to late autumn invariably -came in with her hands full of them. To a friend who met her once on -one of her outings, she exhibited a spray of leaves, and passed on -with the single disconsolate remark, “Not one flower can I find,” as -if she had failed of her object. As a general thing she preferred to -be unaccompanied on her walks. She moved along at a good pace, but, so -to speak, quietly, with her head bent somewhat forward, and at times -so wrapped in thought as to pass without recognition people whom she -knew,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</span> even when saluted by them. Yet she would often pause to talk -with children whom she saw at their sports, and amuse both herself and -them with kindly inquiries about their affairs—the game they were -playing or what not. One day she stopped a little girl of the writer’s -acquaintance, who was performing the then rather unfeminine feat of -riding a bicycle, and had her show how she managed the mount and the -dismount, etc., while she looked on laughing and applauding. It was -very much her way, in making her pedestrian rounds, to linger and -watch workingmen employed in their various crafts, and to enter into -conversation with them—always in a manner to give them pleasure. She -said once: “I keep track of all the new houses going up in town, and -I have talked with the men who are building most of them.” A number -of years ago her brother, Henry Ward Beecher, sent her a letter which -he had received from a friend in Germany, condoling with him on the -supposed event of her decease, a rumor of which had somehow got started -in Europe; and this letter afforded her no little entertainment, -especially its closing with the expression “Peace to her ashes.” “I -guess,” she observed with a humorous smile, and using her native -dialect, “the gentleman would think my ashes pretty lively, if he was -here.” To what multitudes was her continued presence in the world she -blessed a grateful circumstance!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</span></p> - -<p>Mrs. Stowe resided in Hartford after 1864, the family having removed -thither from Andover, Massachusetts, upon the termination of Prof. -Stowe’s active professional career. Her attachment to the city dated -back to her youth, when she passed some years there. It was also the -home of several of her kindred and near friends. She first lived -in a house built for her after her own design—a delightful house, -therefore. But its location proved, by and by, for various reasons, -so unsatisfactory that it was given up; and after an interval, spent -chiefly at her summer place in Florida, the house where she lived until -her death in 1896, was purchased. It is an entirely modest dwelling, -of the cottage style, and stands about a mile west of the Capitol in -Forest Street, facing the east. The plot which it occupies—only a -few square rods in extent—is well planted with shrubbery (there is -scarcely space for trees) and is, of course, bright with flowers in -their season. At the rear it joins the grounds of Mark Twain, and is -but two minutes’ walk distant from the former home of Charles Dudley -Warner. The interior of the house is plain, and of an ordinary plan. On -the right, as you enter, the hall opens into a good-sized parlor, which -in turn opens into another back of it. On the left is the dining-room. -In furnishing it is altogether simple, as suits with its character, -and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</span> with the moderate circumstances of its occupants. Yet it is a -thoroughly attractive and charming home; for it bears throughout, -in every detail of arrangement, the signature of that refined taste -which has the art and secret of giving an air of grace to whatever -it touches. The pictures, which are obviously heart selections, are -skilfully placed, and seem to extend to the caller a friendly greeting. -Among them are a number of flower-pieces (chiefly wild) by Mrs. Stowe’s -own hand.</p> - -<p>While there are abundant indications of literary culture visible, there -is little to denote the abode of one of the most famous authors of -the age. Still, by one and another token, an observant stranger would -soon discover whose house he was in, and be reminded of the world-wide -distinction her genius won, and of that great service of humanity with -which her name is forever identified. He would, for instance, remark -on its pedestal in the bow-window, a beautiful bronze statuette, by -Cumberworth, called “The African Woman of the Fountain”; and on an -easel in the back parlor a lovely engraving of the late Duchess of -Sutherland and her daughter—a gift from her son, the present Duke -of that name—subscribed: “Mrs. Stowe, with the Duke of Sutherland’s -kind regards, 1869.” Should he look into a low oaken case standing in -the hall, he would find there the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</span> twenty-six folio volumes of the -“Affectionate and Christian Address of Many Thousands of Women in -Great Britain and Ireland to their Sisters of the United States of -America,” pleading the cause of the slave, and signed with over half -a million names, which was delivered to Mrs. Stowe in person, at a -notable gathering at Stafford House, in England, in 1853; and with it -similar addresses from the citizens of Leeds, Glasgow and Edinburgh, -presented at about the same time. The house, indeed, is a treasury -of such relics, testimonials of reverence and gratitude, trophies of -renown from many lands—enough to furnish a museum—all of the highest -historic interest and value; but for the most part they are out of -sight. Hid away in closets and seldom-opened book-cases is a priceless -library of “Uncle Tom” literature, including copies of most of its -thirty-seven translations. Somewhere is Mrs. Stowe’s copy of the first -American edition, with the first sheet of the original manuscript -(which, however, was not written first) pasted on the fly-leaf, showing -that three several beginnings were made before the setting of the -introductory scene was fixed upon.</p> - -<p>There are relics, also, of a more private sort. For example, a smooth -stone of two or three pounds weight, and a sketch or study on it -by Ruskin, made at a hotel on Lake Neufchâtel,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</span> where he and Mrs. -Stowe chanced to meet; he having fetched it in from the lake-shore -one evening and painted it in her presence to illustrate his meaning -in something he had said. One of her most prized possessions was a -golden chain of ten links, which, on occasion of the gathering at -Stafford House that has been referred to, the Duchess of Sutherland -took from her own arm and clasped upon Mrs. Stowe’s, saying: “This -is the memorial of a chain which we trust will soon be broken.” On -several of the ten links were engraved the great dates in the annals of -emancipation in England; and the hope was expressed that she would live -to add to them other dates of like import in the progress of liberty -this side the Atlantic. That was in 1853. Twelve years later every link -had its inscription, and the record was complete.</p> - -<p>It was difficult to realize, as one was shown memorials of this kind, -that the fragile, gentle-voiced little lady, who stood by explaining -them, was herself the heroine in chief of the sublime conflict they -recall. For a more unpretending person every way than she was, or one -seeming to be more unconscious of gifts and works of genius, or of a -great part acted in life, it is not possible to imagine. In her quiet -home, attended by her daughters, surrounded by respect and affection, -filled with the divine calm of the Christian faith,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</span> in perfect charity -with all mankind, the most celebrated of American women passed the -tranquil evening of her days. She would often be found seated at the -piano, her hand straying over its keys—that hand that was clothed with -such mighty power,—singing softly to herself those hymns of Gospel -hope which were dear to her heart through all her earthly pilgrimage, -alike in cloud and in sunshine. During her last years she almost wholly -laid her pen aside, her last work having been the preparation, with her -son’s assistance, of a brief memoir of her honored husband, who passed -away in 1886.</p> - -<p>There continued to come to her in retirement, often from distant -and exalted sources, messages of honor and remembrance, which she -welcomed with equal pleasure and humility. Among them was a letter -from <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Gladstone, inspired by his reading “The Minister’s Wooing” -for the first time, and written in the midst of his public cares. What -satisfaction it gave her may be judged by an extract from it. After -telling her that, though he had long meant to read the book, he had -not found an opportunity to do so till a month or two before, he says: -“It was only then that I acquired a personal acquaintance with the -beautiful and noble picture of Puritan life which in that work you have -exhibited, upon a pattern felicitous beyond example, so far as my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</span> -knowledge goes. I really know not among four or five of the characters -(though I suppose Mary ought to be preferred as nearest to the image of -our Saviour), to which to give the crown. But under all circumstances -and apart from the greatest claims, I must reserve a little corner of -admiration for Cerinthy Ann.”</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Joseph H. Twichell.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHARLES_DUDLEY_WARNER">CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER<br><span class="small">IN HARTFORD</span></h2></div> - - -<p>Three-quarters of a mile west of the railway station, in an angle which -Farmington Avenue makes with Forest Street, and where the town looks -out into the country, lived <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Warner, with Harriet Beecher Stowe and -Mark Twain for his near neighbors. The houses where they once lived are -but a stone’s throw apart. No stones were thrown between them, however, -the three authors having been not on stone-throwing terms, but very -far otherwise. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Warner’s house is a spacious, attractive dwelling, -of the colonial style. It stands, unenclosed, several rods back from -the street, in a grove of noble chestnuts, having no other grounds nor -needing any other. Close behind it, at the foot of a steep, bushy bank, -sweeps the bend of a considerable stream.</p> - -<p>The Garden, which <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Warner has made so famous, will be looked for -in vain on the premises. Indoors, indeed, the sage “Calvin” is found -enjoying, on a mantel, such immortality as a bronze bust can confer; -but nowhere the Garden. It pertained to another house, where <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Warner<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</span> lived when “My Summer in a Garden” was written; the fireside -of which, also, is celebrated in his “Back-log Studies,” to not a few -of his readers the most delightful of his books,—a house dear to the -recollection of many a friend and guest. While it is true that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Warner’s experiment of horticulture was, in the time of it, something -of a reality, its main success, it may be owned without disparagement, -was literary; and with the ripening of its literary product, the -impulse to it expired.</p> - -<p>As one would anticipate, the interior of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Warner’s house is genial -and homelike. A cheerful drawing-room opens into a wide, bright -music-room, making, with it, one shapely apartment of generous, -hospitable proportions. The furnishing is simple, but in every item -pleasing. The hand of modern decorative art is there, though under -rational restraint. A chimney-piece of Oriental design rises above -the fireplace of the music-room set with antique tiles brought by <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Warner from Damascus. Other spoils of travel are displayed here and -there, with pictures and engravings of the best. In the nook of a -bow-window is a lovely cast of the Venus of Milo, which, when it was -made a birthday present in the family, was inscribed “The Venus of -my-h’eye.” The house is full of books. Every part of it is more or less -of a library. Laden shelves flank the landings of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</span> the broad stairway, -and so on all the way up to the work-room in the third story, where -the statuette of Thackeray on our author’s table seems to survey with -amusement the accumulated miscellaneous mass of literature stacked -and piled around. Upon any volume of this collection <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Warner could -lay his hand in an instant—when he found where it was. This opulence -of books was partly due to the fact that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Warner was a newspaper -editor, and in that capacity had the general issue of the press -precipitated upon him. Not that he kept it all. The theological works -and Biblical commentaries mostly went to the minister. And there are -a score of children about, whose juvenile libraries are largely made -up of contributions from “Uncle Charley.” His home was a thoroughly -charming one in every way, and whoever may have had the pleasure of -an evening there must have come away wishing that he might write an -article on the mistress of that house.</p> - -<p>Here <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Warner spent his forenoons and did his literary work. He -was very industrious, and was an unusually rapid writer. Some of his -most enjoyed sketches that are apt to be quoted as specimens of his -best work, peculiarly exhibiting his delicate and amiable humor and -the characteristic merits of his style, were finished at a sitting. -In the afternoon he was “down town” on duty as editor-in-chief of -<i>The Hartford Courant</i>—the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</span> oldest newspaper in continuous -existence in this country, having been founded in 1764. His associate -editor-in-chief was Gen. Joseph R. Hawley, of the United States Senate. -The main pursuit of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Warner’s life was journalism. His native turn -was literary. The ink began to stir in his veins when he was a boy. -In his youth he was a contributor to the old <i>Knickerbocker</i> and -<i>Putnam’s Magazine</i>. But circumstances did not permit him to -follow his bent. After graduating at college, he engaged for awhile -in railroad surveying in the West; then studied, and for a short time -practised, law; but finally, at the call of his friend Hawley, came -to Hartford and settled down to the work of an editor, devoting his -whole strength to it, with marked success from the outset, and so -continued for the years before, during and after the War, supposing -that as a journalist he had found his place and his career. His -editorial work, however, was such as to give him a distinctly literary -reputation; and a share of it was literary in form and motive. People -used to preserve his Christmas stories and letters of travel in their -scrap-books. The chapters of “My Summer in a Garden” were originally -a series of articles written for his paper, without a thought of -further publication. It was in response to numerous suggestions coming -to him from various quarters that they were made<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</span> into a book. The -extraordinary favor with which the little volume was received was a -surprise to <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Warner, who insisted that there was nothing in it -better than he had been accustomed to write. He was much disposed to -view the hit he had made as an accident, and to doubt if it would lead -to anything further in the line of authorship. But he was mistaken. The -purveyors of literature were after him at once. That was in 1870. Since -then his published works have grown to a considerable list.</p> - -<p>His stock of material was ample and was constantly replenished. -His mind was eminently of the inquiring and acquisitive order. His -travels were fruitful of large information to him. He returned from -his journey to the East, which produced “My Winter on the Nile” and -“In the Levant,” with a knowledge of Egyptian art and history such -as few travellers gain, and with a rare insight into the intricate -ins and outs of the Eastern question, past and present. Though not -an orator, hardly a season passed that he was not invited to give an -address at some college anniversary—an invitation which he several -times accepted. He once also delivered, in various colleges, a course -of lectures of great interest and value, on “The Relation of Literature -to Life.” He was an enthusiastic believer in the classic culture, and -has repeatedly written and spoken in its defense.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</span> His humor was in his -grain, and was the humor of a man of very deep convictions and earnest -character. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Warner was highly esteemed among his fellow-citizens, -and was often called to serve in one public capacity or another. He -was for a number of years a member of the Park Commission of the city -of Hartford; and he at one time rendered a report to the Connecticut -Legislature, as chairman of a special Prison Commission appointed by -the State. He was a communicant in the Congregational Church, and until -his death in 1900, a constant attendant on public worship.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Warner was a good-looking man; tall, spare, and erect in frame, -with a strong countenance indicative of thought and refinement. His -head was capacious, his forehead high and clear, and the kindly eyes -behind his eye-glasses were noticeably wide-open. He was remarked -anywhere as a person of decidedly striking appearance. The years -powdered his full beard and abundant clustering hair, but he walked -with a quick, energetic step, with his head thrown back, and pushing on -as if he were after something. In going back and forth daily between -his house and his editorial room in the <i>Courant</i> Building, he -disdained the street railway service, habitually making the trip of -something over a mile each way afoot, in all weathers. His pedestrian -powers were first-rate, and he took great pleasure in exerting them. -He liked to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</span> shoulder a knapsack and go off on a week’s tramp through -the Catskill or White Mountains, and whoever went with him was sure -of enough exercise. He was fond of exploration, and once made, in -successive seasons, two quite extensive horseback excursions—with -Prof. T. R. Lounsbury, of the Sheffield Scientific School at Yale, -for his companion—through the unfrequented parts of Pennsylvania, -Tennessee and North Carolina. Of the second of these excursions he -prepared an account in a series of articles for <i>The Atlantic</i>. -He had the keenest relish for outdoor life, especially in the woods. -His favorite vacation resort was the Adirondack region, where, first -and last, he has camped out a great many weeks. His delectable little -book, “In the Wilderness,” came of studies of human and other nature -there made. He was an expert and patient angler, but enjoyed nothing so -much as following all day a forest trail through some before-unvisited -tract, halting to bivouac under the open sky, wherever overtaken by -night. He was easily companionable with anybody he chanced to be with, -and under such circumstances, while luxuriating around the camp-fire, -smoking his moderate pipe, would be not unlikely to keep his guide up -half the night, drawing him out and getting at his views and notions on -all sorts of subjects.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Joseph H. Twichell.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</span></p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">WALT WHITMAN</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="WALT_WHITMAN">WALT WHITMAN<br><span class="small">IN CAMDEN</span></h2></div> - - -<p>It is not a little difficult to write an article about Walt Whitman’s -<em>home</em>, for it was once humorously said by himself that he had all -his life possessed a home only in the sense that a ship possesses one. -Hardly, indeed, till the year 1884 could he be called the occupant of -such a definite place, even the kind of one I shall presently describe. -To illustrate his own half-jocular remark as just given, and to jot -down a few facts about the poet in Camden in the home where he died, is -my only purpose in this article. I have decided to steer clear of any -criticism of “Leaves of Grass,” and confine myself to his condition and -a brief outline of his personal history. I should also like to dwell a -moment on what may be called the peculiar outfit or schooling he chose, -to fulfill his mission as poet, according to his own ideal.</p> - -<p>In the observation of the drama of human nature—if, indeed, “all -the world’s a stage”—Walt Whitman had rare advantages as auditor,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</span> -from the beginning. Several of his earlier years, embracing the age -of fifteen to twenty-one, were spent in teaching country schools in -Queens and Suffolk counties, New York, following the quaint old fashion -of “boarding round,” that is, moving from house to house and farm to -farm, among high and low, living a few days alternately at each, until -the quarter was up, and then commencing over again. His occupation, -for a long period, as printer, with frequent traveling, is to be -remembered; also as carpenter. Quite a good deal of his life was passed -in boarding-houses and hotels. The three years in the Secession War of -course play a marked part. He never made any long sea-voyages, but for -years at one period (1846-60) went out in their boats, sometimes for a -week at a time, with the New York Bay pilots, among whom he was a great -favorite. In 1848-9 his location was in New Orleans, with occasional -sojourns in the other Gulf States besides Louisiana. From 1865 to ’73 -he lived in Washington. Born in 1819, his life through childhood and -as a young and middle-aged man—that is, up to 1862—was mainly spent, -with a few intervals of Western and Southern jaunts, on his native -Long Island, mostly in Brooklyn. At that date, aged forty-two, he went -down to the field of war in Virginia, and for the three subsequent -years he was actively engaged as volunteer attendant and nurse on the -battle-fields,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</span> to the Southern soldiers equally with the Northern, and -among the wounded in the army hospitals. He was prostrated by hospital -malaria and “inflammation of the veins” in 1864, but recovered. He -worked “on his own hook,” had indomitable strength, health, and -activity, was on the move night and day, not only till the official -close of the Secession struggle, but for a long time afterward, for -there was a vast legacy of suffering soldiers left when the contest was -over. He was permanently appointed under President Lincoln, in 1865, -to a respectable office in the Attorney-General’s department. (This -followed his removal from a temporary clerkship in the Indian Bureau -of the Interior Department. Secretary Harlan dismissed him from that -post specifically for being the author of “Leaves of Grass.”) He worked -on for some time in the Attorney-General’s office, and was promoted, -but the seeds of the hospital malaria seem never to have been fully -eradicated. He was at last struck down, quite suddenly, by a severe -paralytic shock (left hemiplegia), from which—after some weeks—he -was slowly recovering, when he lost by death his mother and a sister. -Soon followed two additional shocks of paralysis, though slighter than -the first. Summer had now commenced at Washington, and his doctor -imperatively ordered the sick man an entire change of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</span> scene—the -mountains or the sea-shore. Whitman accordingly left Washington, -destined for the New Jersey or Long Island coast, but at Philadelphia -found himself too ill to proceed any farther. He was taken over to -Camden, and lived there until his death in 1892. It is from this point -that I knew him intimately, and to my household, wife and family, he -was an honored and most cherished guest.</p> - -<p>I must forbear expanding on the poet’s career these years, only noting -that during them (1880) occurred the final completion of “Leaves of -Grass,” the object of his life. The house in which he lived is a -little old-fashioned frame structure, situated about gun-shot from the -Delaware River, on a clean, quiet, democratic street. This “shanty,” -as he called it, was purchased by the poet for $2000—two-thirds -being paid in cash. In it he occupied the second floor. I commenced -by likening his home to that of a ship, and the comparison might go -further. Though larger than any vessel’s cabin, Walt Whitman’s room, -at 328 Mickle Street, Camden, had all the rudeness, simplicity, and -free-and-easy character of the quarters of some old sailor. In the -good-sized, three-windowed apartment, 20 by 20 feet, or over, there -were a wood stove, a bare board floor of narrow planks, a comfortable -bed, divers big and little boxes, a good gas lamp, two<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</span> big tables, a -few old uncushioned seats, and lots of pegs and hooks and shelves. Hung -or tacked on the walls were pictures, those of his father, mother and -sisters holding the places of honor, a portrait of a sweetheart of long -ago, a large print of Osceola the Seminole chief (given to Whitman many -years since by Catlin the artist), some rare old engravings by Strange, -and “Banditti Regaling,” by Mortimer. Heaps of books, manuscripts, -memoranda, scissorings, proof-sheets, pamphlets, newspapers, old and -new magazines, mysterious-looking literary bundles tied up with stout -strings, lay about the floor here and there. Off against a back wall -loomed a mighty trunk having double locks and bands of iron—such -a receptacle as comes over sea with the foreign emigrants, and you -in New York may have seen hoisted by powerful tackle from the hold -of some Hamburg ship. On the main table more books, some of them -evidently old-timers, a Bible, several Shakspeares,—a nook devoted -to translations of Homer and Æschylus and the other Greek poets and -tragedians, with Felton’s and Symonds’s books on Greece,—a collection -of the works of Fauriel and Ellis on mediæval poetry,—a well-thumbed -volume (his companion, off and on, for fifty years) of Walter Scott’s -“Border Minstrelsy,”—Tennyson, Ossian, Burns, Omar Khayyám, all -miscellaneously together. Whitman’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</span> stalwart form itself luxuriated -in a curious, great cane-seat chair, with posts and rungs like ship’s -spars; altogether the most imposing, heavy-timbered, broad-armed and -broad-bottomed edifice of the kind possible. It was the Christmas gift -of the young son and daughter of Thomas Donaldson, of Philadelphia, and -was specially made for the poet.</p> - -<p>Let me round off with an opinion or two, the result of my many years’ -acquaintance. (If I slightly infringe the rule laid down at the -beginning, to attempt no literary criticism, I hope the reader will -excuse it.) Both Walt Whitman’s book and personal character need to -be studied a long time and in the mass, and are not to be gauged by -custom. I never knew a man who—for all he took an absorbing interest -in politics, literature, and what is called “the world”—seemed to be -so poised on himself alone. <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Drinkard, the Washington physician -who attended him in his paralysis, wrote to the Philadelphia doctor -into whose hands the case passed, saying among other things: “In -his bodily organism, and in his constitution, tastes and habits, -Whitman is the most <em>natural</em> man I have ever met.” The primary -foundation of the poet’s character, at the same time, was certainly -spiritual. Helen Price, who knew him for fifteen years, pronounces -him (in <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Bucke’s book) the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</span> most essentially religious person she -ever knew. On this foundation was built up, layer by layer, the rich, -diversified, concrete experience of his life, from its earliest years. -Then his aim and ideal were not the technical literary ones. His strong -individuality, wilfulness, audacity, with his scorn of convention and -rote, unquestionably carried him far outside the regular metes and -bounds. No wonder there are some who refuse to consider his “Leaves” as -“literature.” It is perhaps only because he was brought up a printer, -and worked during his early years as newspaper and magazine writer, -that he put his expression in typographical form, and made a regular -book of it, with lines, leaves and binding.</p> - -<p>During his last years the poet, who was almost seventy-three years old -when he died, was in a state of half-paralysis. He got out of doors -regularly in fair weather, much enjoyed the Delaware River, was a great -frequenter of the Camden and Philadelphia Ferry, and was occasionally -seen sauntering along Chestnut or Market Streets in the latter city. He -had a curious sort of public sociability, talking with black and white, -high and low, male and female, old and young, of all grades. He gave a -word or two of friendly recognition, or a nod or smile, to each. Yet -he was by no means a marked talker or logician anywhere. I know an old -book-stand man who always spoke of him as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</span> Socrates. But in one respect -the likeness was entirely deficient. Whitman never argued, disputed, or -held or invited a cross-questioning bout with any human being.</p> - -<p>Through his paralysis, poverty, the embezzlement of book-agents -(1874-1876), the incredible slanders and misconstructions that followed -him through life, and the quite complete failure of his book from a -worldly and financial point of view, his splendid fund of personal -equanimity and good spirits remained inexhaustible, and was to the end -of his life amid bodily helplessness and a most meagre income, vigorous -and radiant as ever.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">George Selwyn.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="JOHN_GREENLEAF_WHITTIER">JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER<br><span class="small">AT AMESBURY</span></h2></div> - - -<p>Nearly all the likenesses of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Whittier with which the present public -is familiar, represent an aged man, albeit with a fire flashing in the -eye and illuminating the countenance, like that fire which underlies -the snows of Hecla. But if, after having passed eighty, his face was -still so strong and radiant, in his youth it must have had a singular -beauty, and he kept until the last that eye of the Black Bachelder, -a glint of which was to be seen in the eye of Daniel Webster, and -possibly, tradition says, in that of Hawthorne and of Cushing. At any -rate, he showed a fair inheritance of the strength of will and purpose -of that strange hero of song and romance, his Bachelder ancestor.</p> - -<p>But other strains, as interesting as the old preacher’s, are to be -found in Whittier’s ancestry. One of his grandmothers was a Greenleaf, -whence his second name, and she is said to have been descended from a -Huguenot family of the name of Feuillevert, who translated their name -on reaching our shores (as the custom still is with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</span> many of our French -and Canadian settlers,) to Greenleaf. The poet himself says:</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The name the Gallic exile bore,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> Malo, from thy ancient mart,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Became upon our western shore</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Greenleaf, for Feuillevert.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>To the artistic imagination, that likes in everything a reason for its -being, there is something satisfactory in the thought of Huguenot blood -in Whittier’s veins; and one sees something more than coincidence in -the fact that on the Greenleaf coat-of-arms is both a warrior’s helmet -and a dove bearing an olive-leaf in its mouth. Among the Greenleafs -was one of Cromwell’s Lieutenants; and thus on two sides we find our -martial poet born of people who suffered for conscience’ sake, as he -himself did for full forty years of his manhood. The scion of such a -race—how could he pursue any other path than that which opened before -him to smite Armageddon; and yet the grandson of Thomas Whittier, -of Haverhill, who refused the protection of the blockhouse, and, -faithful to his tenets, had the red man to friend, in the days when the -war-whoop heralded massacre to right and left—the grandson of this -old Quaker, we say, must have felt some strange stirrings of spirit -against spirit, within him, as the man of peace contended with the man -of war, and the man of war blew out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</span> strains before which the towers of -slavery’s dark fortress fell. For Whittier was not only the trumpeter -of the Abolitionists, in those dark but splendid days of fighting -positive and tangible wrong: he was the very trumpet itself, and he -must have felt sometimes that the breath of the Lord blew through him.</p> - -<p>They are terrible days to look back upon, the period of that long, -fierce struggle beneath a cloud of obloquy and outrage; but to those -who lived in that cloud it was lined with light, and in all our sorrows -there was the joy of struggle and of brotherhood, of eloquence and -poetry and song, and the greater joy yet of knowing that all the forces -of the universe must be fighting on the side of right.</p> - -<p>The old homestead where Whittier was born, in 1807, is still standing, -and although built more than two hundred years ago, it is in good -condition. It is on a high table-land, surrounded by what in the late -fall and winter seems a dreary landscape. Carlyle’s Craigenputtock, the -Burns cottage, the Whittier homestead, all have a certain correlation, -each of them the home of genius and of comparative poverty, and each -so bleak and bare as to send the imagination of the dwellers out on -strong wings to lovelier scenes. Little boxes and paper-weights are -made from the boards of the garret-floor of the Whittier homestead,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</span> as -they are from the Burns belongings; and twigs of the overshadowing elm -are varnished and sold for pen-holders. But the whole house would have -to go to the lathe to meet the demand, if it were answered generally, -for it is the old farmhouse celebrated by “Snowbound,” our one national -idyll, the perfect poem of New England winter life. An allusion to that -strange and powerful character, Harriet Livermore, in this poem, has -brought down upon the poet’s head the wrath of one of her collateral -descendants, who has written a book to prove that nothing which was -said of that fantastic being in her lifetime was true, and that so -far from quarreling with Lady Hester Stanhope as to which of them was -to ride beside the Lord on his reëntry into Jerusalem, she never even -saw Lady Hester. But why any one, descendant or otherwise, should take -offence at the tender feeling and beauty of the poet’s mention of her -is as much a mystery as her life.</p> - -<p>It was in the fields about this homestead that fame first found our -poet. For there he bought, from the pack of a traveling peddler, the -first copy of Burns that he had ever seen, and that snatched him away -from hard realities into a land of music; and here the mail-man brought -him the copy of that paper containing his earliest poem, one whose -subject was the presence of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</span> the Deity in the still small whisper in -the soul; and here Garrison came with the words of praise and found him -in the furrow, and began that friendship which Death alone severed, as -the two fought shoulder to shoulder in the great fight of the century.</p> - -<p>Although he had been for some time contributing to the press, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Whittier was but twenty-three years old when he was thunderstruck by a -request to take the place of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> George D. Prentice, in editing <i>The -New England Weekly Review</i> for a time; of which request he has said -that he could not have been more astonished had he been told he was -appointed Prime Minister to the Khan of Tartary. In 1835 and in 1836 -he was elected to the State Legislature of Massachusetts, and he was -engaged, during all this period, in active politics in a manner that -seems totally at variance with the possibilities of the singer of sweet -songs as we know him to-day. He declined reëlection to the Legislature, -upon being appointed Secretary to the American Anti-Slavery Society, -removing to Philadelphia, and remaining there two years, at the end -of which time the office of <i>The Pennsylvania Freeman</i>, which he -edited, was sacked and burned by a mob.</p> - -<p>Few men in the world had a closer acquaintance with this same -many-headed monster than our gentle poet, for he has been followed by -mobs,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</span> hustled by them, assailed by them, carrying himself with defiant -courage through them all; and it is a tremendous range of experience -that a man finds, as <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Whittier was able to do, between being -assaulted by a midnight mob and being chosen the Presidential Elector -for a sovereign State.</p> - -<p>After the suppression of his paper—this was at a time when the -Legislature of Georgia had offered a reward of five thousand dollars -for the arrest of the editor of <i>The Liberator</i>,—<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Whittier -sold the old Haverhill homestead and removed to Amesbury, a lovely -town, the descendant of Queen Guinevere’s Almbresbury, neighbor of -Stonehenge and old Sarum, which seems a proper spot for him as for -a new Sir Galahad; and from this time he began to send out those -periodical volumes of verses which have won him the heart of the -world. Here his lovely sister Elizabeth, herself a poet, with his -mother, and his Aunt Mercy—the three loved of all “Snowbound’s” -lovers,—brightened the home for years, one by one withdrawing from -it at last for their long home, and leaving him alone, but for the -subsequent sweet companionship of his nieces, who themselves went away -in their turn for homes of their own.</p> - -<p>The poet’s dwelling in Amesbury was exceedingly simple and exquisitely -neat, the exterior of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</span> pale cream color, with many trees and shrubs -about it, while, within, one room opens into another till you reach -the study that should be haunted by the echoes of all sweet sounds, -for here have been written the most of those verses full of the fitful -music,</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of winds that out of dreamland blew.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>Here, in the proper season, the flames of a cheerful fire dance upon -the brass andirons of the open hearth, in the centre of a wall lined -with books; water-colors by Harry Fenn and Lucy Larcom and Celia -Thaxter, together with interesting prints, hang on the other walls, -rivaled, it may be, by the window that looks down a sunny little -orchard, and by the glass-topped door through which you see the green -dome of Powow Hill. What worthies have been entertained in this -enticing place! Garrison, and Phillips, and Higginson, and Wasson, and -Emerson, and Fields, and Bayard Taylor, and Alice and Phœbe Cary, and -Gail Hamilton, and Anna Dickinson, are only a few of the names that -one first remembers, to say nothing of countless sweet souls, unknown -to any other roll of fame than heaven’s, who have found the atmosphere -there kindred to their own.</p> - -<p>The people of Amesbury, and of the adjoining villages and towns, felt -a peculiar ownership of their poet; there is scarcely a legend of -all the region round which he has not woven into his song,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</span> and the -neighborhood feel not only as if Whittier were their poet, but in some -way the guardian spirit, the genius of the place. Perhaps in his stern -and sweet life he has been so, even as much as in his song. “There is -no charge to <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Whittier,” once said a shopman of whom he had made a -small purchase; and there is no doubt that the example would have been -contagious if the independent spirit of the poet would have allowed it.</p> - -<p>The Indian summer days of the poet’s life were spent not all in the -places that knew him of old. The greater part of the winter was passed -in Boston; a share of the summer always went to the White Hills, of -which he was passionately fond, and the remainder of the time found -him in the house of his cousins at Oak Knoll, in Danvers, still in -his native county of Essex. This is a mansion, with its porches and -porticoes and surrounding lawns and groves, which seems meet for a -poet’s home; it stands in spacious and secluded grounds, shadowed by -mighty oaks, and with that woodland character which birds and squirrels -and rabbits, darting in the checkered sunshine, must always give. It is -the home of culture and refinement, too, and as full of beauty within -as without. Here many of the later poems were sent forth, and here -fledglings had the unwarrantable impertinence to intrude with their -callow manuscripts,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</span> and here those pests of prominence, the autograph -seekers, sent their requests by the thousands. But in the early fall -the poet stole quietly back to Amesbury, and there awaited Election -Day, a day on which he religiously believed that no man has a right to -avoid his duty, and of which he always thought as when he saw</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Along the street</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">The shadows meet</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Destiny, whose hand conceals</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">The moulds of fate</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">That shape the State,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And make or mar the common weal.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>What a life he had to look back upon, as he sat with his fame about -him—what storms and what delights, what struggle and what victory! -With all the deep and wonderful humility of spirit that he bore before -God and man, yet it is doubtful if he could have found one day in it -that he would have changed, so far as his own acts were concerned. It -is certain that no one else could find it.</p> - -<p>In appearance, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Whittier was to the last as upright in bearing as -ever; his eye was as black and burned with as keen a fire as when it -flashed over the Concord mob, and saw beauty everywhere as freshly as -when he cried out with the “Voices of Freedom” and sang the “Songs of -Labor”; and his smile was the same smile that won the worship of men, -and of women, too, for sixty years and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</span> over. Now it is with a sort of -tenderness that people speak and think of him whose walk in life ended -September 7, 1892. It seemed impossible to think that such vitality and -power and spirit could ever cease. And indeed, it has not ceased, for -it has been transferred into loftier regions, where his earthly songs -are set to the music of the morning-stars as they sing together.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Harriet Prescott Spofford.</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">MRS. MARGARET DELAND</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="MRS_MARGARET_DELAND">MRS. MARGARET DELAND<br><span class="small">MT. VERNON STREET, BOSTON, AND KENNEBUNKPORT, MAINE</span></h2></div> - - -<p>Very few houses suggest in a more marked degree the tastes of those who -occupy them, than the one in which Margaret Deland may be found during -the winter months, and until the chilly New England spring deigns to -set forth a tempting array of blossoms. At this signal, followed by -a general exodus in favor of suburban residences, Mrs. Deland—being -a Bostonian only by adoption, and therefore to be pardoned for -seeking recreation at a greater distance from home—closes the town -house, leaving it guarded by flowers, to re-establish herself and her -household in an attractive cottage at Kennebunkport, Maine, where her -summers are habitually passed.</p> - -<p>If we are to go in search of the more representative of the two -dwellings, we must turn our steps in the direction of Beacon Hill, -for the Delands yielded a number of years ago to the indefinable -charm of this time-honored quarter of the town, and have come to be -considered—like Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Mrs. Henry Whitman,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</span> and -others—as permanent members of the little colony in possession.</p> - -<p>On turning into Mt. Vernon Street at the foot of the hill, a view that -is essentially picturesque opens up, and its separate features—the -steep road, large elm-trees, old-fashioned residences, and narrow -sidewalks—have hardly had time to assert themselves, when the -objective point of one’s walk comes in sight. No. 76 is the second of -two houses on Mt. Vernon Street that have in turn afforded <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Deland -an excuse to indulge his predilection for reconstruction, the present -habitation being practically a larger edition of one lower down the -street—in which “John Ward, Preacher,” was written.</p> - -<p>A glance at the façade proves the felicity of a friend’s description, -“It is all windows and flowers.” The chronicler of “Old Garden” fancies -and none other is to be associated with the masses of jonquils, -hyacinths, and pansies, whose notes of color define the unusual width -of the main windows, and are equally in evidence against a background -of soft white muslin, used as drapery for the curious little bay -window on the second story. A few steps lead from the narrow sidewalk -to the front door, and a moment later the visitor finds himself in a -drawing-room of ample dimensions, reached by way of a tiny vestibule, -and covering every inch of space on the north or Mt. Vernon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</span> Street -side of the house. The maid servant in attendance disappears in -search of her mistress, passing up the curved white staircase with -crimson carpeting, placed to the left, and treated with due regard for -decorative effect. A happy blending of comfort and luxury immediately -makes itself felt, while a huge fire-place with a cord log blazing on -its hearth easily dominates all other attractions, and finds its way to -the heart of many an unacclimated stranger.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Deland lives all over her house, the different rooms on the first -and second floors being in constant use, and equally familiar to her -friends. If she has installed herself in the sunny library overhead, or -in the salon opening off of it, you will as likely as not be summoned -to join her in one or the other of these pleasant rooms, and will find -the same simple yet luxurious appointments—the cheery open fires, the -profusion of flowers, the tasteful and harmonious decorations—evenly -distributed throughout the entire house. Books are stored away in every -conceivable receptacle, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Deland’s taste in this matter, as indeed in -most others, being as fully represented as that of his wife. One even -runs across a set of book-shelves fitted into the wall at the head of -the staircase, where the old-fashioned niche once held its place. But -although they are found to exist in such quantities, neither books nor -periodicals are allowed to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</span> become an annoyance by being left about -to crowd out other things and to collect dust. The exquisite neatness -and order that prevail speak volumes for the refinement and managerial -capacity of the mistress of the house. An authoress is supposedly the -least practical of persons; and yet in this one instance an exception -must be noted, for there are countless signs that the hand at the helm -is both experienced and sure.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Deland is of Scottish ancestry on her father’s side of the family, -and, as a lineal descendant of John of Gaunt, may be said to have -sprung from the house of Lancaster. There is about her something of the -freedom and indomitable strength of the Highlands—a look in the clear -blue eye, a warmth of coloring, a cut of features, and, above all, -a certain unruly assertiveness of stray locks of hair—that awakens -memories of the heather and of the wind upon the hills, coming heavily -laden with the odor of peat and fresh from its contact with some -neighboring loch. And, again, there are moments when other and quite -different pictures suggest themselves, as the outcome of a still more -subtle relation to the fragrant treasures of her garden—the delicate -mignonette, the open-hearted June rose—with just a touch of passion -in its veins to make it kin with all the world—and the sensitive -convolvulus, lifting its face heavenward to greet the light, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</span> -robbed of aspirations when the shadows settle into gloom.</p> - -<p>The strong love of flowers finds its expression in a number of ways, -and it seems extraordinary that a success which is seldom achieved by -those who live in town should crown the efforts of one who apparently -has but to touch a plant to make it live. A little fig-tree—the most -notable of her triumphs, for it, too, was planted and raised within -doors—lifts its branches and bears fruit as the central attraction -of a group of tropical plants that flourish near the casement of -the dining-room window. An India-rubber plant that is fast assuming -proportions which threaten its banishment, spreads its glossy leaves -in the middle of the library, and, overladen as it is, one cannot fail -to observe that the broad ledge of the window in the rear was arranged -with a special view to the well-being of the various blooms seen -thereon, and thus given the full benefit of the sunshine.</p> - -<p>At the close of the winter Mrs. Deland has a sale of flowers in aid -of some good cause, and also for the purpose of demonstrating that -the cultivation of such plants as are raised under her roof, with no -other care than that given from out of her own busy life, might be made -to serve many a gentlewoman of reduced circumstances as a means of -support. During the weeks that precede the sale, the house is ablaze -with daffodils, and one leaves<span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</span> the snow and ice without, to enter on a -scene more suggestive of Florida than of Massachusetts.</p> - -<p>A wide diversity of interests draws very different kinds of people -under this roof, for the sympathies of those who live under it are of -extensive range, and their hospitality is without limit. There are -the purely social functions, placing in touch representative members -of the world of fashion and those whose gifts or strong individuality -have lifted them out of the more conventional lines of thought and -action. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Deland, as an authority on football and the inventor of -strategic moves which have materially strengthened Harvard’s game, also -gathers about him serious amateurs in outdoor sports, and is ever ready -to prolong the pleasures of the post-prandial cigar by enthusiastic -discussion of moot points.</p> - -<p>Meetings in the interests of charitable organizations, civic matters, -and all stirring questions of the day, make their demands on the time -of a hostess whose tact and responsiveness are unfailing. When some -interest of an exclusively feminine nature remains to be dealt with, or -that bugbear of the male mind, a ladies’ luncheon-party is in order, -the genial host escapes to some such favorite haunt as the <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> Botolph -or the Tavern Club, leaving an almost startling substitute in the -shape of a life-size portrait by the well-known Boston artist, Miss -S. G. Putnam, to smile a welcome in his stead.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</span> The portrait and the -little bay-window first seen from the outside are the most conspicuous -features of the upper salon. It is from this window that a view of the -sunset and of the distant river may be enjoyed; and in looking up and -down the street one cannot fail to observe the fine old mansions on the -opposite side of the way, set back a considerable distance from the -street, and with enough ground round about them to include in their -surroundings old-fashioned grass-plots and flowering shrubs belonging -to the past century. In presiding at her table Mrs. Deland does the -honors with cordial interest in those grouped about her, and while -taking full part in the conversation, always contrives to draw out -others, rather than to permit her individual views to be drawn upon.</p> - -<p>As one of the first to introduce the use of the chafing-dish, her -experiments in this direction must be quoted as unique, not only -because of their most excellent results, but in view of the fact -that everything that has to be done is so daintily and gracefully -accomplished. It is simply astonishing how she continues to hold her -place in the general conversation, while quietly mixing and adding -the ingredients out of which some particularly delicious <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">plat</i> -is to evolve. Everything has been measured out in advance and stands -in readiness. This bit of Venetian glass, whose soft colors are -intensified by the sunlight playing about<span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</span> it, holds just the proper -quantity of cream; that small jug—an infinitesimal specimen of -yellow pottery—contains but a spoonful of some dark liquid, as to -whose mission the uninitiated may not guess. It is the very poetry of -cooking, and it was hardly in the nature of a surprise when a guest -whose travels had extended through the East gravely assured Mrs. -Deland, on partaking of a preparation which had served as the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pièce -de resistance</i> of the occasion, that its name as translated from the -Persian could only be explained by the significant phrase,—“The Sultan -faints with delight”!</p> - -<p>As an author Mrs. Deland fully recognizes the importance of -systematizing her work, therefore she has long made it a custom to deny -herself to every one during the morning hours in order to devote them -exclusively to writing. The library, whose attraction has already been -referred to, makes an ideal workshop, and as such deserves to rank as -far and away the most interesting room in the house. It is usually -flooded with sunshine, and is always light, the open fire contributing -further brightness, and bringing into requisition a quaint pair of -andirons, shaped in the form of two revolutionary soldiers standing on -guard.</p> - -<p>The window, framing a sheet of glass that might well prove problematic -to a less capable housekeeper, gives on the rear of several Chestnut -Street houses whose old roofs and old chimneys<span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</span> reach nearly to its -level and are directly outside. A faint twittering tells of the -presence of those <i>gamins</i> among birds, the sparrows, and a closer -search for the little fellows reveals their bright eyes and ruffled -feathers, as seen emerging from the crevices into which they have -contrived to squeeze themselves in their search for shelter and warmth.</p> - -<p>There is space beyond, with only the shifting clouds to gaze upon, -and the stillness and repose of the spot speak well for the writer’s -chances in regard to the maintenance of moods and consecutive thought. -The ill-starred fortunes of “Philip and His Wife” were followed from -amid these same peaceful surroundings, and the commodious desk near the -window doubtless held manuscript sheets of that tale, as well as of -others more recently written. A cast of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Deland’s hand is suspended -from one side of the desk, and his share in the possession of the room -is indicated by a central writing-table with telephone attachment. If -he chances to look up while transacting such business as invades the -home, he will meet with the gentle face of one of Lucca della Robia’s -angels, or his eyes may wander from this relief, and the mantelpiece -against which it is placed, to a large photograph of Boston, and a -number of well-selected pictures covering the walls.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Deland’s first productions were in verse,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</span> and an idea as to their -spontaneity may be gathered from the fact that several of the poems -which appeared under the title of “In An Old Garden” were originally -jotted down upon the leaves of a market-book, to be left in the hands -of a friend whose sympathy and belief awakened the first sense of -power, and to whom the volume was dedicated. One of these prosaic bits -of ruled paper is still in existence. It bears the penciled words of -“The Clover,” and, by way of illustration, a graceful spray of the -flower, suggestively traced over all, as if thrown upon the page.</p> - -<p>When the Delands first went to Kennebunkport, it was a little fishing -village of the most primitive kind, and life there, in the summer time, -was refreshingly simple and unconstrained. A cottage was selected -within a stone’s throw of the river, and <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Deland’s yacht, with -its picturesque Venetian-red sails, became a feature of the scene. -A disused barn, in a nook among the hills, was found to possess a -charming outlook, and was immediately turned into a study. In this -retreat “Sidney” was written. The glory of the garden proved a thing -to be remembered, and its mistress was never happier than when delving -among her treasures. Kennebunkport has grown into a popular summer -resort, with its hordes of transient visitors, its countless hotels -and boarding-houses; but the Delands pass their days in much the -same<span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</span> fashion as when the pleasures of the river and the charm of the -surrounding country seemed to belong to them alone.</p> - -<p>That our authoress still counts her garden the most fascinating spot -on earth, may be gathered from her own words:—“I am rather fond of -rising at five o’clock in the morning, and of going out to weed when -every blade of grass and every leaf is beaded with dew; and if the tide -is high, and the sun comes shining over the hills on the wide blue -river—weeding is an enchanting occupation.”</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Lucia Purdy.</span><br> -</p> -<hr class="tb"> -<p class="center p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img004"> -<img src="images/004.jpg" class="w50" alt="Author portrait"> -</span></p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">F. MARION CRAWFORD</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="F_MARION_CRAWFORD">F. MARION CRAWFORD<br><span class="small">AT SORRENTO</span></h2></div> - - -<p>To most people who have travelled in the south of Italy the name of -Sorrento recalls one of the loveliest places in the world, which has -been so often and so well described that it forms part of the mental -picture-gallery even of those who have never been there. We all seem -to know the cheerful little town, perched high above the glorious bay, -and crowded with tourists during more than half the year. On any bright -morning, especially in early spring, the tiny shops in the principal -street fairly swarm with strangers, to whom polite and polyglot dealers -sell ornaments of tortoise-shell and lava, silk sashes which will look -like impressionist rainbows under sober English skies, and endless -boxes and book-shelves of inlaid woods, destined to fall to pieces -under the fiery breath of the American furnace. In contrast to these -frivolous travellers one may also see the conscientious Germans, whose -long-saved pence are thriftily expended, seeking out every possible -and impossible haunt of Tasso’s ghost, with the aid of Baedeker, the -apostle of modern travel.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</span></p> - -<p>Comparatively few of this constantly changing company ever think of -taking the side street which runs between the high-road to Castellamare -and the sea, and it is possible to spend some time at Sorrento without -having seen the home of Marion Crawford at all. Follow this side -street, called the “rota,” because it curves like the rim of a wheel, -and you will find yourself presently going back toward Naples, shut in -on either hand by the high walls of villas and gardens, over which the -orange and lemon and olive trees look down into the dusty lane. Just -across the boundary line between Sorrento and the village of Sant’ -Agnello, named after a martial abbot who is said to have fought the -Turks, as many a churchman did in his time, there stands a sedate old -inn, the Cocumella, or Little Gourd, which is a complete contrast to -the two great hotels in the larger town. It was once the property of -the Jesuits, and the King Ferdinand of Naples who was Nelson’s friend, -nobly generous with the belongings of others, after the manner of -kings, gave it, with the adjoining church, to the forefather of its -present owner. The house has been an inn ever since, but the title to -the church has never been settled, and the building is kept in repair -by the landlord as a sort of courtesy to Heaven. To this old-fashioned -inn many Italians and quiet English families come for the season, and -it was in a cave or grotto at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</span> foot of its garden, which slopes -toward the cliff, whence there is a steep descent through the rocks to -the sea, that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Crawford wrote “To Leeward” and “Saracinesca,” before -he married and bought his present house.</p> - -<p>Beyond the Cocumella lies the parish of Sant’ Agnello, a village quite -independent of its more fashionable neighbor, with a post-office and a -few little shops of its own. Keeping to the lane, at about an English -mile from Sorrento, a quaint old Capuchin monastery is reached on -the left, with a small church and a rambling almshouse just showing -above a high white-washed wall, which runs on to a gateway of gray -stone over which ivy hangs in masses, while on each side the name -of the place, “Villa Crawford,” is carved in plain block letters. -The heavy dark-green doors of the gate stand hospitably open, and -show the straight, narrow drive, bordered with roses, geraniums, and -jasmine, and leading down to a square garden-court, not large but full -of flowers and crooked old olive trees, over which wistaria has been -trained from one to the other, so that in spring they are a mass of -delicate bloom and fragrance. The house is very simple, built of rough -stone partly stuccoed, as usual in that part of Italy, and irregular in -shape because it has been added to from time to time. When <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Crawford -took it for a season, soon after his marriage to a daughter of General<span class="pagenum" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</span> -Berdan, it was in such a very tumble-down condition that when the -fierce winter gales swept over snow-clad Vesuvius from the northeast, -the teeth of every lock chattered and the carpets rose in billows -along the tiled floors. But the site is one of the most beautiful on -the whole bay, for the house stands on the edge of a cliff which falls -abruptly nearly two hundred feet to the water, and since <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Crawford -bought it he has strengthened it with a solid tower which can be seen -for some distance out at sea.</p> - -<p>The front door opens directly upon a simple hall where there are -plants in tubs, and a tall old monastery clock stands near the door -leading to the stone staircase. The long drawing-room opens upon a -tiled terrace, and is almost always full of sunshine, the scent of -flowers, and the voices of children. It cannot be said to be furnished -in the modern style, but it contains many objects which could only -have been collected by people having both taste and opportunity. When -in Constantinople, many years ago, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Crawford was so fortunate as to -find an unusually large quantity of the beautiful Rhodes embroidery -formerly worked by the women of the Greek islands for the Knights -of Malta, of which none has been made for over a hundred years. The -pattern always consists of Maltese crosses, in every possible variety -of design, embroidered in dark-red silk on a coarse linen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</span> ground which -is entirely covered. Draped here and there the effect is exceedingly -rich and soft, as well as striking, and some fine old Persian armor -over the doors tells of a visit which the author and his wife made to -the Caucasus during one of his rare holidays. A magnificent portrait of -Mrs. Crawford by Lenbach, a gift from the artist to her husband, was -painted during a winter spent at Munich; and on the opposite wall hangs -a brilliant water-color drawing of a Moorish warrior, by Villegas, -presented by him to Mrs. Crawford after a visit to his studio in Rome. -On a table placed against the back of an upright piano, among a number -of more or less curious and valuable objects, lies the large gold medal -of the Prix Monbinne, the only prize ever given by the French Academy -to foreign men-of-letters, which was awarded to <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Crawford for the -French editions of “Zoroaster” and “Marzio’s Crucifix.”</p> - -<p>A door leads from one end of the drawing-room into the library, a high -square room completely lined with old carved bookcases of black walnut, -built more than two hundred years ago for Cardinal Altieri before he -became Pope Clement the Tenth, and of which the wanderings, down to -their final sale, would be an interesting bit of Roman social history. -The library is not a workroom, but the place where the author’s books -are kept in careful order, those he needs at any time being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</span> carried -up to his study and brought down again when no longer wanted. There -are about five thousand volumes, very largely books of reference and -classics, partly collected by the author himself, and in part inherited -from his uncle, the late Samuel Ward, and his father-in-law, General -Berdan. The room is so full that one large bookcase has been placed -in the middle, so that both sides of it are used. Besides the books -the library contains only a writing-table, three or four chairs, and a -bronze bust of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ward.</p> - -<p>But it is hard to think of these rooms without their inmates—the -father, who is at his best, as he certainly is at his happiest, in his -own house, the beautiful and gracious mother, and the four strikingly -handsome children, with their healthy simplicity and unconsciousness -which speak of that ideal home life which is the author’s highest -fortune. The eldest child is a girl of twelve, “as fair as wheat,” -with thoughtful eyes; next comes a boy two years younger, much darker -in coloring, and with a face already full of expression; and last a -pair of twins of eight, a boy and a girl—she with a nimbus of curly -golden hair that makes her look like a saint by Fra Angelico, and he -a singularly grave and sturdy little fellow, whose present energies -are bent on being a sailor-man—a disposition which he gains fairly, -for <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Crawford’s friends know that if he might have consulted only<span class="pagenum" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</span> -the natural bent of his mind, he would have followed the sea as his -profession. From early boyhood he has passed the happiest hours of his -leisure on board a boat, and he is as proficient in the management of -the picturesque but dangerous felluca as any native skipper along the -coast.</p> - -<p>When he bought an old New York pilot-boat, in 1896, he was admitted -to the examination of the Association of American Ship-masters -in consideration of his long experience, and he holds a proper -ship-master’s certificate authorizing him to navigate sailing-vessels -on the high seas. He proved his ability by navigating his little -schooner across the Atlantic with entire success, and without the -slightest assistance from the mate he took with him. This episode in -a life which has had more variety than falls to the lot of most men -shows clearly the predominant trait of Marion Crawford’s character, -which is determination to follow out anything he undertakes until he -knows how it should be done, even if he has not the time to work at it -much afterward. Readers of “Casa Braccio” may have noticed that the old -cobbler who is Paul Griggs’s friend is described with touches which -show acquaintance with his trade, the fact being that while the author -was preparing for college in the English village which he describes -later in “A Tale of a Lonely Parish,” he made a pair of shoes “to see -how it was done,” as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</span> he also joined the local bell-ringers to become -familiar with the somewhat complicated system of peals and chimes. Mere -curiosity is like the clutch of a child’s hand, which usually means -nothing, and may break what it seizes, but the insatiable thirst for -knowledge of all kinds is entirely different, and has always formed -part of the true artistic temperament.</p> - -<p>The description of silver chiselling in “Marzio’s Crucifix” is the -result of actual experience, for <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Crawford once studied this branch -of art, and produced several objects of considerable promise. In -rebuilding and adding to his house he has never employed an architect, -for he is a good practical builder and stone-mason, as well as a -creditable mathematician, and his foreman in all such work is a clever -laborer who can neither read nor write. Like many left-handed men, he -is skilful in the use of tools, and his mechanical capacity was tested -recently when, having taken out a complete system of American plumbing, -including a kitchen boiler, he could find no workmen who understood -such appliances, and so put them all in himself, with the help of two -or three plumbers whose knowledge did not extend beyond soldering -a joint. When the job was done everything worked perfectly, to his -justifiable satisfaction. As he is a very fair classical scholar and -an excellent linguist, he could easily support himself as a tutor if -it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</span> were necessary, or he might even attain to the awful dignity of a -high-class courier.</p> - -<p>His study or workroom at Villa Crawford is on the top of the house, -by the tower, and opens upon a flat roof, after the Italian fashion. -There are windows on three sides, as it is often important to be able -to shut out the sun without losing too much light; the walls are simply -white-washed, and the floor is of green and white tiles. In the middle -there is a very large table, with a shelf at the back on which stand -in a row a number of engravings and etchings, most of which were given -him by his wife, prominent among them being “The Knight, Death, and the -Devil,” by Dürer, mentioned in the beginning of “A Rose of Yesterday.” -A small revolving bookcase full of books of reference has its place -close to his hand, and his writing chair is of the most ordinary -American pattern. The large plain brick fireplace projects into the -room, and on the broad mantel-shelf stands a replica of his father -Thomas Crawford’s Peri, a winged figure, fully draped, gazing sadly -toward the forfeited paradise. On one wall hangs an engraving by Van -Dalen after a portrait of Giorgione by Titian, of which the original -has been destroyed, and on another a large photograph of Giorgione’s -Knight of Malta, and small ones of his pilot-schooner as she looked -when he crossed the ocean in her, and as she appears now, transformed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</span> -into the yacht Alda, and refitted so that his wife and children may -accompany him on the cruises which form his usual vacations. The -effect of the room as a whole is severe and simple, but the view from -its windows is most beautiful and varied. To the south lie olive-clad -hills, with white houses dotted here and there among orange-groves, and -with the craggy mass of Monte Sant’ Angelo, rising higher than Vesuvius -itself, for a background; westward one looks over Sant’ Agnello and the -neighboring townships, and to the northeast, across the shining bay, -the curved white line of Naples stretches far along the shore, while -Vesuvius broods fatefully over the villages at its feet.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Crawford is an early riser, being usually at his writing-table -between six and seven o’clock. If it is winter he lights his own fire, -and in any season begins the day, like most people who have lived much -in southern countries, with a small cup of black coffee and a pipe. -About nine o’clock he goes down-stairs to spend an hour with his wife -and children, and then returns to his study and works uninterruptedly -until luncheon, which in summer is an early dinner. In warm weather the -household goes to sleep immediately after this meal, to re-assemble -toward five o’clock; but the author often works straight through this -time, always, however, giving the late afternoon and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</span> evening to his -family. The common impression that the south of Italy is unbearably hot -in summer is due to the fact that the guide-books in general use are -written by Germans or Englishmen, whose blood boils at what seems to -us a very tolerable temperature. Inland cities like Milan and Florence -often suffer from oppressive heat, but records show that neither at -Naples nor at Palermo does the thermometer mark so high as in New York, -and at Sorrento it rarely goes above 84°. On Sundays, after early -church, parents and children go off in a boat to some one of the many -lovely spots which are to be found among the rocks along the shore, -taking with them fire-wood, a kettle, and all that is necessary for a -“macaronata,” or macaroni picnic. The sailors do the cooking, while -the children look on or go in swimming with their father, and when the -simple feast is over the rest of the afternoon is spent in sailing over -the bay, perhaps as far as Capri if the breeze holds.</p> - -<p>While every one acknowledges Marion Crawford’s talent as a -story-teller, he is sometimes reproached with inventing impossible -situations, or at least straining probability, which is only another -illustration of the old saying about fact and fiction, for in each of -the cases usually referred to he has set down what actually happened. -The triple tragedy in “Greifenstein” was a terrible fact in a noble -German family before the middle<span class="pagenum" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</span> of the present century, and the son -of the house, the last of his race, entered the Church and died a -Cardinal. In “Casa Braccio,” the elopement of the nun and the burning -of the substituted body took place in South America exactly as -described, and the story was told to the author by a person who had -met the real Gloria. The incident of Don Teodoro in “Taquisara,” who, -although not ordained, acted as a priest for many years, occurred in -the neighborhood of Rome, and there have been two well-known cases in -which priests kept the secret of the confessional as Don Ippolito does -in “Corleone,” but with the difference that they were both convicted -of crimes which they had not committed, one being sent to the mines of -Siberia, the other to a French penal colony.</p> - -<p>The impression, quite generally entertained, that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Crawford throws -off one book after another as fast as he can write them down, is based -upon a misapprehension of his method of working. For months, or even -for several years, a subject is constantly in his mind, and he spares -no study to improve his rendering of it. Travellers in Arabia, for -instance, have commended the “local color” of his “Khaled,” which, -however, is quite as much due to patient reading as to imagination, -for he has never been there. The actual writing of his stories is done -quickly, partly because few authors have had such large experience of -all the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</span> mechanical work connected with literature. From early manhood -he has been entirely dependent on his own resources, and during his two -years’ editorship of an Indian newspaper he practically wrote it all -every day, correcting the proof into the bargain. After his return to -America, and before writing “<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Isaacs,” he supported himself by any -literary work that he could get, during which time, by the way, he was -a frequent contributor to <i>The Critic</i>. The man so often called -“a born story-teller” is also a careful student, especially reverent -of the precious inheritance of our language, and some of his works are -now used as class-books for the study of modern English literature -throughout this country, a fact which may easily escape the knowledge -of the novel-reading public which owes him so much pleasure.</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Crawford has made a success at play-writing as well as at novel -writing. His “In the Palace of the King,” which has been played so -successfully by Miss Viola Allen, was a play before he turned it into -a novel, and he has recently written a drama founded on a new version -of the story of Francesca and Paola, which Madame Sarah Bernhardt has -produced with great success.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">William Bond.</span><br> -</p> - -<hr class="tb"> -<p class="center p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img005"> -<img src="images/005.jpg" class="w50" alt="Author portrait"> -</span></p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</span></p> -<p class="center xbig">PAUL LEICESTER FORD</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PAUL_LEICESTER_FORD">PAUL LEICESTER FORD<br><span class="small">THE MAN OF AFFAIRS AND THE MAN OF LETTERS</span></h2></div> - - -<p>Long-suffering prominence, among its numerous woes, has at times to -subject itself to snap-shot portraiture; but occasionally a friendly -and amateurish zeal, seeking honest results, brings the person of -note to the advantage of a long exposure, and then perchance educes -finenesses and personalities neglected by the swifter method. I should -like, if I may, to use the slower and truer means in a sketch of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> -Paul Leicester Ford, who has of late, by reason of an unquestioned -reputation, been compelled to stand from behind the vanguard of his -books and show himself as a notability. In contrast therefore to -various pen views which have presented <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford as all sorts and -conditions of a man, it ought to be possible for a friendly candor -to delineate his life and purposes without passing just limitations. -Paraphrasing his own playfully bold title, I seek to portray “The True -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford,” entertaining the while that proportionate sense of demerit -which I am sure restrained him as he limned the outlines of Washington.</p> - -<p>The accrediting of unusual ability to heredity<span class="pagenum" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</span> and environment alone -fails to satisfy; for what we most wish to understand is the actual -and not the probable resultant. Nevertheless it will never do to -omit from the reckoning <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford’s innate tendencies and the slowly -formed impulses made upon him and upon his equally remarkable brother, -Worthington Chauncey Ford, by their father’s superb library, of which -in a manner, but in a different degree, each is the incarnation. -Puritan stock, absolutely pure, except where there is a crossing of the -Huguenot on the paternal side—there is no choicer graft than that—a -temperament stimulated by the nervous excitations of the cosmopolitan -life of New York, and a scholarship sound yet unacademic and not held -by the leash of college traditions—these, as I see them, are the -factors, any of which taken from him would have made <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford quite -other than he is. Yet the aggregate of such components most assuredly -does not constitute his genius; for genius as distinguished from marked -ability he undoubtedly possesses. It has before now been told that on -his mother’s side he is the grandson of Professor Fowler of Amherst, -the great-grandson of Noah Webster, and the grandson four times removed -of President Charles Chauncey of Harvard College, and of Governor -Bradford; and from this last worthy ancestor he comes honestly by his -fondness for a manuscript. This is good blood to run through<span class="pagenum" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</span> one’s -veins, even in a remote generation. There is an added vigor from his -mother, who, early expanded under favoring influences, had the native -mental strength and moral sureness of a cultivated New England woman. -His father, the late Gordon L. Ford, though known and honored as a -successful lawyer and man of affairs, was, to those who had the closer -knowledge of him, an idealist of the type which does not readily pursue -other than the highest ends, and which cannot throw open the reserves -of its nature.</p> - -<p>There is then in his make-up a curious balance of conservative -tendencies and a due share of remonstrance and even of headlong -radicalism. To a superb mental equipment is to be added a physical -constitution strong enough to have pulled him through an infancy and -childhood full of peril and no doubt of suffering, and to have landed -him in manhood’s estate with a vivacious and courageous disposition, -a master of his fate. He is also endowed with an almost superhuman -capacity for work. It may be that, conscious of hidden frailties of -tenure, the impulse is within him to burn his candle of life fiercely; -but I am disposed the rather to think that in his case this use of -energy is mainly a question of superior “horse power”—he is able to -work more than most of us, and therefore he does. But great capacity -does not always so express itself; and it would be unjust, unless<span class="pagenum" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</span> -one chose to regard <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford as precocious in youth and phenomenal at -all times, not to recognize that the fate which distributes gifts to -mortals gave him Opportunity. Free, if he so wished, to follow his own -devices and to take the joys of life without undue exertion, he was -wise enough, at an age when most youth sows an unprofitable crop on -stony ground, to plant in the fertile furrows which a farseeing father -had sedulously made ready for him. As for education and the discipline -of school life, so wholesome for the most of us, there was for him -literally none of it. His nursery, his primary school, and his college -all may be found within the four walls of his father’s library. The -books held within the quiet residence in Clark Street, Brooklyn, must -now be nearer 100,000 than 50,000 in number. They fill all parts of -the large house fashioned in the manner of fifty years ago, but their -headquarters are in the library proper, a room at the rear, over fifty -feet square, and reached from the main floor by a short flight of -steps. This room is well but not glaringly lighted by a lantern at the -top, while the sides, with the exception of a few small windows of no -great utility owing to the tallness of surrounding buildings, are fully -taken up with books to the height of eight feet. The floor is covered -in part by large rugs; the walls and ceilings are of serious tint; a -fireplace is opposite the entrance;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</span> while sofas of most dissimilar -pattern and meant seemingly to hold any burden but a human one, are -placed “disposedly” about; chairs, easy but not seductive, are in -plenty, but like the sofas give notice that here is a government not of -men but of books—here there is no library built for the lust of the -flesh and pride of the eye, but for books and for those who use them. I -cannot suppose that those smitten of bibliophily would thrill over the -Ford library, since it exists for the practical and virile, although it -is, in parts, exceedingly choice. Roughly classified to suit the easy -memories of the owners, it presents an appearance urbane and unprecise -rather than military and commanding. At irregular intervals loom huge -masses of books, pamphlets, papers, proof-sheets, and engravings in -cataclysmic disorder and apparently suspended in mid-air like the -coffin of the False Prophet, but in fact resting on tables well hidden -by the superincumbent piles. In this room the father slowly accumulated -this priceless treasure mostly illustrative of American history and -its adjuncts, thereby gratifying his own accurate tastes and hoping, -as we may suppose, that his children would ultimately profit by -his foresight. Nor was he disappointed; for the two brothers, Paul -and Worthington, drew their milk, historically speaking, from this -exhaustless fount, and it is thus impossible to disconnect the labors -and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</span> successes of these two unusual men from their association with -this library. Not in books alone, but in many choice autograph letters, -rare portraits and plates, and much unpublished material consists the -value of the collection.</p> - -<p>One who did not know <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford, on entering the room and beholding for -the first time the Sierras of books, fronted by foot-hills and drumlins -of unfinished work, sale catalogues, letters, and other detritus, might -well suppose him to be the most careless of mortals. This would be to -misjudge; for though no one else could fathom his methods, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford -turns readily to what he wants, and given the right haystack, finds his -needle with astonishing ease. Like many another man of ability, he does -not enslave himself to organization, but uses method only in proportion -to direct needs.</p> - -<p>The secret of his astonishing capacity for work and production is not -far to seek. He is by nature and by predilection a man of affairs -and of business. The accident of life has directed his energies -toward books and letters. But he is not a literary man in the sense -that he is to be identified with a class, for in the best sense he -is <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">déclassé</i>. So far as there may be genius burning within -him, it must express itself during moments of inspiration; but the -between-times are not spent in dreams or vain imaginings, but in an -almost relentless<span class="pagenum" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</span> absorption in some historical or editorial task, -requiring fidelity and energy rather than fitful moods.</p> - -<p>I do not now discern what at one time I feared that I -might—carelessness, or an effect of haste, in the large mass of -results to which this author has already put his name. On the contrary -it seems to me that more and more he tends toward painstaking care, -and there is good reason to predict that his best and possibly most -brilliant work is yet to come. Regarding one work, since published, -he has told me that, having already pushed a long way toward the end -and finding that the affair went slowly, of a sudden it was borne in -upon him that he was on the wrong track. In a moment he swept 30,000 -words of manuscript into his basket and started anew and with a good -heart. A great organizing capacity, a power of maintained effort, and a -willingness to take unstinted trouble, render the large volume of his -achievements as acceptable as the small bulk of another’s work. Faults -I think <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford has had, and still has, but it would be proper even -for the nicest criticism to discover a sure advance in the quality of -his style. Personally I have never been able to explain satisfactorily -the success of his most popular book, “The Honorable Peter Stirling.” -It is almost without a “literary” quip or term or phrase; the politics -present a stiff dose to novel<span class="pagenum" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</span> readers, a class too satiated with an -unvarying diet not to crave spicier viands than those served to them -by the love motive of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford’s story. Why then has this proved to be -one of the three stories of the past two years and more? I do not know, -unless it be that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford, who is no egotist and not exclusive in his -sympathies, reflects in this book a genuine if unsentimental faith -in human nature of every degree. To such a faith humanity is always -responsive. He did not come crying in the wilderness with acrimony and -fanaticism, but gave the prototype of a gentleman of the heart and -not of long ancestry—a pure man in all things, even in metropolitan -politics, who stamped on evil, not shrank from it. There was a cry for -a politician who could be something to the “boys” besides a prig, and -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">haud inexpertus</i>, produced him. It was bread and not a -stone, and the democracy, rampant yet not unclean, heard him gladly.</p> - -<p>I have no purpose here to rehearse the merits of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford’s various -writings. Current criticism certainly has him in its eye as a -conspicuous figure, and if he meets opposition he is not likely to -suffer neglect. Meanwhile another source of his success and of his -popularity seems to me to lie in his perfect intellectual and moral -normality. Great as is the volume of his work, it is sound throughout. -He strikes no shrill or wayward<span class="pagenum" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</span> note; the social order is always -considered. He deals with the sound fruit of human life, and assumes -that good nature, honest love, money-making, clean and enjoyable -existence are not only possibilities but everyday realities. The -success of “The Story of an Untold Love” shows how ready people are for -an observance of all the commandments rather than for a breach of one. -It is with novels as with plays—cleanliness “goes.”</p> - -<p><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford’s large abilities, aided by fortunate inheritance, have been -used not for the ends of mere scholarship and to humor preciosity and -a love of what is fantastic and occasional, but to recognize common -wants and aspirations; yet at the same time he evinces an idealism -tempered by no little terrestrial wisdom and experience. Imagination -plays a larger part in his work—and I am here speaking of his creative -work—than appears at first sight. In “Peter Stirling” he has managed -to give to an immense metropolitan life an effect of homogeneity and -interrelation. The large and evanescent effects of a great city are -tempting themes, but those who try to catch and hold the impression -for the uses of a novel seldom succeed in giving more than fine -details. Our <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">genre</i> painters of fiction have been admirable in -this matter: but to make one pattern of the huge confusion requires -a knowledge vouchsafed only to him who has acquired by daily contact -the largest and most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</span> vital experiences. The immensity of financial -transactions, the intricate shrewdness of politicians, aside from their -corruptions, the nice checks and balances of a higher social life must -necessarily escape the eye of the literary artist mainly because they -lie beyond his ken.</p> - -<p>Cerebrally <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford is multiparous. He can be busy with a play, a -story, a biography, and with editing some historical work during the -same interval of time—the real marvel of it all being that, when these -come to publication, the world, which is said to know clearly what it -wants, accepts the results with apparent satisfaction. The power of -driving a quadriga of new books around the popular arena amid no little -applause, is due, I think, to qualities not inherent in the literary -mind as such, but implying a wider mental grasp.</p> - -<p>A spirit of restlessness takes hold upon <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford when he is hardest -at work, and he shifts at pleasure from one to another of his several -desks or tables. I should imagine that the curiosity hunter of the -future, who might wish to possess the desk at which or the chair on -which the author of “Peter Stirling” sat when he penned that book, -might comfortably fill a storage-warehouse van with his new-found joys. -Like most good fellows who write, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford knows the value of the night -and often works to best advantage when honest folk have been long abed. -It is a pleasure to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</span> think of the occasionally fortunate person who -writes when he wants to, not when he must, though I do not think it -would be difficult for so conscientious a worker as <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford to get up -friction at shortest notice and as occasion might require.</p> - -<p>While it has been my purpose to refrain scrupulously from ministering -to that curiosity which cares less for the essential qualities, and -the intellectual methods of a character prominently before the world, -than for intrusive detail concerning personal caprices of taste and -modes of living, I shall not be content if I do not say that as a -personality <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford is as extraordinary as in his achievement. He is -alive to every issue of the day and of the hour. He is brilliant at -conversation, and perhaps even more brilliant at controversy, for I -can imagine no opposing argument so bristling with facts as to prevent -his making a cavalry charge on a whole table of unsympathetic hearers. -Life is at its keenest pitch when one is privileged to hear his urgent -voice, with no little command withal in its notes, and to see the -invincible clearness and dominance in his black-brown eyes.</p> - -<p>This spirit of fearlessness, chastened as it is by an attitude of real -toleration and open-mindedness, colors <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford’s personal sympathies. -Believing as he does that every man must eventually work out his own -salvation and that present well-being may justly be sacrificed to -future growth, it would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</span> be impossible for him to choose any channel -for the expression of his personal loyalty other than that which should -strengthen and develop. It is no strange thing, then, that those -who seek his aid and counsel find him most helpful through a power -of stimulation which enhances instead of detracts from the sense of -self-reliance.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Lindsay Swift.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>[Since the foregoing was written, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Paul Leicester Ford has died, -being shot through the heart by his brother Malcolm, who it is only -charitable to believe was temporarily insane. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Ford had his best -years before him. He recently married, moved into a fine house built -to suit his own needs near Central Park, and his plans were mapped out -years in advance. He was engaged on a novel at the time of his death, -but had done so little on it that there is no possibility of its ever -seeing the light of print.—<span class="smcap">Editors.</span>]</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes</h2> - - -<p>Errors in punctuation have been fixed.</p> - -<p>In the <a href="#CONTENTS">table of contents</a>, “George P. Latkrop” changed to “George P. -Lathrop”</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_32">32</a>: “Boker make known” changed to “Boker made known”</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_54">54</a>: “Scotch balled” changed to “Scotch ballad”</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_93">93</a>: “multifarous aspects” changed to “multifarious aspects”</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_114">114</a>: “first appearancee” changed to “first appearance”</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_174">174</a>: “who anounnces” changed to “who announces”</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_202">202</a>: “bibliopole’s art” changed to “bibliophile’s art”</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_284">284</a>: “king has abdicted” changed to “king has abdicated”</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_389">389</a>: “New Engand” changed to “New England”</p> -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUTHORS AT HOME ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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